For better or worse, Aslan registered Crane as absolutely harmless. He smelled him rather than saw him, and did not so much as peel a lone eye back. Instead, he slumped against the jacket.

When lunch came about, Aslan roused at the nudge and then bolted upright.

“Allah—aha, ha, oh, that’s, hah, uh.”

He saw the sandwiches, rubbed the back of his neck.

“Thanks, Crane. How long was I out?”

He bit into the sandwich.