Chestelle and Finn now stood over the still-sleeping Lickthorn. She was curled tightly in the nest, clinging to fragments of half-dissolved slime like a stuffed animal from hell.
Every slight movement came with a disgusting wet bloob sound, like someone fist-fighting Jell-O in slow motion.
Finn glanced at Chestelle, who stared down at Lickthorn with an unsettling amount of joy.
"…Why are you smiling?" Finn asked.
"She looks cozy."
Finn turned back to the nightmare cuddle pile. "Lickthorn."
Nothing.
"I already tried calling her," Chestelle said. "She didn't move."
"Is everyone in this world a deep sleeper?" Finn muttered. "Seriously, what is wrong with you people?"
"I can stomp on her again," Chestelle offered brightly.
"What?! No! Why would you even—why did you do that in the first place?"
"To wake her up, duh. It's foot therapy. But I think she might be in a coma."
Finn blinked. "That is not what foot therapy is. What kind of things were you taught as a kid?!"
