Puck rises on tiptoe to peer in the window, but can't quite manage it.

A hop carries him to the right height; after the first one, he hastily eats a few strawberries and tries it again.


"I see there may be some of our creatures," he tells Havelock, "as well as a quantity of meat."

But hungry as he is, he'd rather eat lettuce. Icky dead dudes getting their icky deadness all over perfectly beautiful food.

"Perhaps we should be best served to leave them to it."

"Graghdadk ..."

"Oh dear," Puck mutters, with the intonation one typically expects of an expletive.