"You talk too much," she mumbled, sounding half-asleep. She felt drowsy but wouldn't allow herself to slip back into a state where she could dream again. In an attempt to keep herself awake, she drew patterns on his chest with her fingers, her other hand drawing swirls on the small of his back. Softly, she sang under her breath, a tune she could remember her mother used to sing to her before she died. "A gentle breeze from hushabye mountain. Softly blows o'er lullaby bay. It fills the sails of boats that are waiting. Waiting to sail your worries away."