"Lucas!"

He pulled his blanket over his head. Everything was spinning.

"How long're you gonna sleep?!" The voice was louder now, closer.

He kept his eyes shut tight as the morning light tried to claw its way in. This racket was not helping.

"Get up so we can eat!" It was right above him now, and in one swift motion took hold of the covers and yanked them away.

"Ungh!" Lucas groaned, clutching his pillow to his face and curling up into an even smaller ball than before.

"Get up already! Your omelet's getting cold, and if you don't eat it then I will!"

His stomach grumbled at him. For any other food he could have ignored it, but some urges are stronger than sleep.

"Better hurry up!" the voice sang as it hurried away.

And then it hit him: the heavenly aroma of his favorite food. His eyes shot open and he rolled over to get up, but got tangled in his own limbs and fell right off the side of the bed. He scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, still feeling woozy. His head ached like he'd had a full meal of fresh Tanetane mushrooms the night before, but he still staggered toward the kitchen.

"Mornin'," Flint greeted his son with a slight nod.

"Loving the bed-head, Lucas," said the same voice from before.

Lucas froze. His eyes were finally starting to adjust, and his head had begun to clear. As expected, his dad sat at the table, but he wasn't alone. Across from him, clad in a familiar yellow and blue shirt, sat Claus — the real Claus, in the flesh with all his original parts right where they should be.

Before Lucas could even process what he was seeing a third figure entered his field of view, placing the last of four plates on the table. She smiled at him, and he could have burst into tears on the spot.

"Lucas, sweetie?" Hinawa asked. "Are you feeling alright? You're white as a sheet."

"If he's too sick to eat, can I have his omelet?" Claus asked.

"You eat too much as it is," Flint pointed out.

"I'm a growing boy!"

"Growing wider by the day," said Flint.

"Mom!" Claus whined. "Dad called me fat!"

"Claus, dear, how about you eat your first omelet before you ask for seconds?" Hinawa suggested.

Lucas stared. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He must be dreaming, he decided. It wouldn't be the first time he found himself here in his sleep.

. . . Except that none of his dreams had ever felt so real.

"I'm . . . fine," Lucas muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"What's that sweetheart?" Hinawa asked, turning back to Lucas.

"I'm fine," he repeated louder, the words compelling his legs to move. "I just, um, stood up too fast." He ambled over to his spot at the table, right next to Claus.

He managed to stop gaping at his brother long enough to look at his breakfast. Steam was still rising off the food on the plate in front of him. He breathed in the intoxicating smell. Despite years of trying, he'd never been able to make omelets as good as his mom's. With the first bite, he felt like he was in heaven. How he'd missed this.

A thought struck him. Maybe this was heaven. Maybe he'd died. Would he even know? How could he tell?

"Don't forget we've got a busy day, Lucas," Claus told his brother.

Hinawa looked at Lucas with some concern before addressing Claus. "Maybe Lucas should stay home if he's not feeling well."

"But mom, today's special!" Claus whined again. "There's supposed to be some kinda secret save frog meeting out in the woods. It only happens once every hundred years or something!"

Flint sipped his coffee. "Save frogs, huh?"

"Yeah! Fuel told me so!"

"Uh-huh," Flint said dismissively. "And wasn't Fuel the one who told you about that there flying drago you were going on about?"

"I'm telling you guys it's real!" Claus insisted. "And invisible."

"How about those 'mermen' at the beach?" Hinawa reminded them both. "I swear you would've drowned yourself if your brother wasn't there."

Claus scoffed. "That's the whole point! They show up to save anyone who's in trouble."

"Maybe you two could stick around here today," Hinawa suggested with a smile. "I'm sure your father would appreciate some help with the sheep. Right, darling?"

Flint nodded before shoveling another bite into his mouth.

"But mom . . ." Claus pleaded with the saddest eyes he could fake. "What about the frogs?"

Hinawa was not falling for it. "You'll have plenty of time to play later, young man."

"It's not 'playing'," Claus sulked.

Lucas swallowed another mouthful of eggs and dug in yet again. His eyes kept darting between his mother and brother. They were here. They were real. He could reach out and touch them.

If this is what death is like, then he could live with it. And if this was a dream, it was a beautiful one.