When Angua woke up and took a smell of the morning air and the distinct change of colour in her own familiar scent, she could only grunt and take a few minutes to refuse to get out of bed.

"Come on," she muttered. "We're not even on the island!"

At least everything else about her smelled the same, she had to be grateful for that, but it was going to take a lot of self-convincing to do anything more than just lie there in rebellion of what had happened. So much for her lucky streak...