Atalanta had worked on making the treasure trove a bit more livable lately, and had sewn together dresses and tunics and pantaloons and all sorts of articles of clothing together to form a mattress. She had asked Kelerak to catch birds so she could take their feathers, but he had bluntly refused, saying that things with wings were related to him and gave him terrible indigestion. But despite this interesting piece of trivia knowledge, Atalanta had found a way to stuff her pillow. The mattress was filled with clothes, and it made for a lumpy mattress, but it was better than the rocky ground. She had then made a pillowcase by sewing the holes in a shirt up save one with which to put feathers into the pillow. She had found a crossbow early on, and had enough practice to shoot a bird at close range. She would shoot straight up, run for cover, and wait until something fell back to the ground. She never lost a bolt this way, and often hit the bird. She quickly accumulated enough feathers to fill two large pillows – one for her, and one for Kelerak, when he actually slept in his true form, or at least what Atalanta supposed was his true form. She had been saving them for a special day – Christmas Day. She doubted Kelerak knew of anything such as Christmas or Saint Nick, but she might as well try. The less animosity between the two of them, the better, she reasoned.