20 THE PRIMAL LORDS
I wake, and the furred jowl of the snoring canine that has draped his head over my chest, neck, and head in my blankets obscures my view of the unchanging sky. A couple of energetic shoves serve to move the offending body part from my view of the heavens. The end of the world might not be sufficient to stop the snoring.
A glance shows me that Tyr has arisen, and is creating the black goo that he calls coffee. The eight entities still stand in their positions relative to each other. Nothing beyond our little camp has changed since we made camp. We expect to see at least one of the three groups due sometime in this ‘day.' While there is no change in this place to the lighting over time, my cute little pocket watch says that we are indeed starting the second day in this
