Hushed Willows Quixote

Even though the voice was not outright familiar to the boy, Tambourine turned to obey the summons, responding instinctively to the authority of the howl. He arrived quickly, panting and tail waving, his mouth clapping shut as he eyeballed the caller. The pup's attention was naturally drawn to his facial disfigurement. His jaw dropped open again as he stared at his missing eye. It wasn't gory—the wound looked more or less mended—but it definitely captured Tambourine's fascination.

"Did a bird poop in your eye?" he blurted, forgetting his manners as he recollected the day when the mourning dove had excreted in his own eyeball. Silas had warned him about the damage the filth could do to his sensitive eye tissues. "Or did a bad guy eat it?" Tambourine guessed next, pale gaze tracing over the stranger's scars. He was, of course, unaware that he was no stranger at all. He had been the boy's first ever visual the day he had opened his eyes, though of course he had no memory of it.