Malcolm clings to him. "We were in the Woodsman's cabin, except..."

"I see your night terrors haven't improved any, my boy. Are you sure this place is any better for you than home was?"

Malcolm stills and then slowly, cautiously, warily looks over his shoulder, even as he still holds on to Will. Martin Whitly is standing in front of the kitchen island. Malcolm rolls his eyes.

"It's going to be one of those days, I guess," Malcolm says nuzzling his face back into the crook of Will's neck. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he murmurs.