Usually, Mokko was a heavy sleeper. A chef he'd worked with in the past informed him he'd slept through an earthquake. So when he woke up to the sound of Marron's scream, he sat up, alert and worried. His paws groped around the nightstand for his glasses.
It wasn't a "I had a nightmare," or "I was totally surprised" scream. Instead, it was the kind that tore through the night air like a sword, full of terror and desperation.
"MOKKO!"
The voice was distant but unmistakably Marron's, and it was calling his name.
He scrambled out of bed and bumped into the table where Lucy's jar was kept. Mokko swore as it nearly tipped over, but caught it in time. "Lucy! Wake up!"
The slime stirred, her form rippling in the water. "What's wrong? Is it morning already?"
"Did you hear that?" Mokko asked, rushing to the sliding glass door. He threw it open and stepped onto the balcony, ears straining for any sound.
Nothing but the quiet night air of Whetvale.
