[The following appears in the morning, barely past dawn. Someone is drawing on this page, in careful dashes and swirls of ink: an image of a curled-up dragon emerges. The margin is spotted with ink by the time he's done.]
Goodnight, little one.
[As for Hawk, he can be found on the porch, where he's sat with Fuu through the night, watching the dragon grow more and more drowsy and finally go to sleep and fade back into the sand from which he was made.]