Marian frowned disconcertingly at the whisper and then shout of her name. Not only was he unconscious - and wreaked of a ale house - but he was dreaming about shouting at her. Didn't she get enough of that when she was home?

Except that he looked, she couldn't be sure.

Something seemed different. In his voice? Or how he was laying? Not that she knew how he slept. She crossed her arms. She should leave him here, in the bracken and mud and he was going to be fine. Clutching at the grass and shouting her name.

Her frown hardened looking at how close the water was, and against her better nature she walked a step closer and nudge his boot with her own, thinking about the word fetch and how he deserved to fall in the lake.