Billy covered his head with a blanket and rolled over. Even so, he could still hear the noises and he wondered how he had ever thought of the country as a quiet place. His arm was throbbing but the pain was bearable; the herb poultice had drawn out some of the inflammation. Unable to sleep, he rolled off the bed and managed to pull on his shoes, even though he had trouble using his right hand. A Dutch hood, like a cupped hand, extended from over the fireplace into the room. Two red benches covered with gaudy designs stood on either side of the fireplace facing each other, their high backs just touching the bottom of the hood, so a nook was formed in front of the fireplace that was almost a room within the room. Still half-asleep, the boy headed for the nook, the cold of the cabin hitting him like a wet towel flipped across his face. In the shelter of the nook he sat down on one of the benches, as close to the fireplace as possible. Only a wisp of blue smoke rose from the big back log, but the bricks of the fireplace still retained the warmth of the last night's fire.
