On one such morning about midsummer, he was having an absolutely splendid dream. He and Ce'Nedra were leaping from the loft in the barn at Faldor's farm into the soft hay piled below. He was awakened rather rudely as his wife bolted from the bed and ran into an adjoining chamber where she was violently and noisily sick.
"Ce'Nedra!" he exclaimed, jumping out of bed to follow her. "What are you doing?"
"I'm throwing up," she replied, raising her pale face from the basin she was holding on her knees.
"Are you sick?"
"No," she drawled sarcastically. "I'm doing it for fun."
Guardians of the West, by David Eddings