His mother was banging the porridge pot with her metal ladle, the sound echoing through the house. ‘Out of bed, lazeabouts!’ she cried. ‘First Horn sounded a quarter past and breakfast is hot! Any who ent finished by sunup get an empty belly till luncheon!’ A pillow struck Briar’s head. ‘Open the slats, Briarpatch,’ Hardey mumbled. ‘Why do I always have to do it?’ Briar asked. Another pillow hit Briar on the opposite side of his head. ‘Cause if there’s a demon there, Hardey and I can run while it eats you!’ Hale snapped. ‘Get goin’!’ The twins always bullied him together … not that it mattered. They had twelve summers, and each of them towered over him like a wood demon. Briar stumbled out of the bed, rubbing his eyes as he felt his way to the window and turned up the slats. The sky was a reddish purple, giving just enough light for Briar to make out the lurking shapes of demons in the yard. His mother called them cories, but Father called them alagai. While the twins were still stretching in bed waiting for their eyes to adjust to the light, Briar hurried out of the room to try and be first to the privy curtain.
