[ Bastien laughs again (more quietly), and he lifts his head to check the window—the brightness of the light, the length of the shadow—and then collapses it back onto Byerly's torso in a silent ugh before sliding off the bed with as minimal a disturbance as he can manage. ]

To be fair, you should allow for the ones who would never try to return from exile—the greatest fools. And the ones who would be eaten by bears before they could try. Maybe one paean for every two garroted fools.