The one who woke Lyle from his deep slumber was Echel's big palm, which smacked him from the hammock onto the floor.
Thud, thud, it was the sound of his beak's tip striking the floor. The sudden intense hit proved more effective than a bone-chilling splash of water to the face. Fortunately, since the beak was made of leather, it cushioned the impact and prevented a concussion.
Supporting his still-slighly-wobbly head, Lyle crawled up from the ground. Because last night could be counted as the best sleep of his life—the soft hammock was far more comfortable than his wooden bed at home—he wasn't much bothered by getting up.
Sunlight peeked in from the entrance of the Dawn Palace, painting the interior in pale gold. The green shadows of surrounding plants also cast silhouettes on the wooden planks. The sunlight wasn't harsh here; perhaps it was because of the mists that shrouded the dense forest, creating a fog so thick that it felt like a fairyland.
