They were all dreams.

Since Declan and Matthew had moved out of the Barns, Ronan had apparently dreamt himself quite a menagerie. Although they seemed to have been feeding themselves perfectly adequately while Ronan was gone, they nonetheless quickly decided their morning ritual was to wake Declan for tending. Matthew wouldn’t have minded being woken, but they never came to his window. The dream creatures seemed to have somehow divined that Declan was the person least likely to enjoy them and therefore the most desirable to woo.

“Come on, guys!” Matthew said cheerily. “Let’s get some brekky! Not you!”

This was directed toward the minivan-sized boar, which was too big to fit through either door or window. It had come into the room as a noxious-smelling gas and Matthew had learned that it had to be reduced back to the same form in order to get out.

Matthew clapped and shouted in the boar’s face.

“Come on! Come on!”

Flinching, the boar backed away, but remained persistently solid. Its giant butt smashed into the dresser. Its shoulder swept books from the shelf. Declan’s laptop made an ominous crunching sound beneath its hoof. It was getting used to Matthew, which was the problem. Every day it took more and more effort to startle it.

“Was that my—” Declan’s strangled voice came from beneath the blanket. “I have to do everything myself.”

He rose abruptly from the bed, sheet wrapped all around him, a ghost.

Both Matthew and boar staggered back in surprise.

The boar instantly dispersed into a cloud of noxious-smelling gas, the world’s biggest fart.

Matthew remained Matthew.

“Mary give me patience,” Declan snapped. Flapping his sheet swiftly up and down, he blew the boar gas out the window. One of the dreamt birds pecked curiously at his bare foot with a beak shaped like a screwdriver. He picked it up and threw it out the window after the fading cloud.

“Hey!” Matthew said.

“It’s fine. Look, there it goes.” Declan slammed the window shut. “Get them out of here. That’s it. I’m figuring out a lock today. I’m gluing it shut. I’m putting spikes up there. Out. What are you waiting for, Matthew? You’re slower every morning. Don’t make me write you a chore list.”

Before all this, Matthew would have laughed this off and then done whatever Declan asked. Now, though, he said, “I don’t have to do what you say.”

Declan didn’t even bother to reply. Instead he began to briskly collect clothing for the day.

This annoyed Matthew even more, which combined in a thrilling and toxic way with the feeling Matthew had experienced when looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. He said, “You just threw one of my siblings out the window.”