The Sentinels backstreet boys

Deirdre relented, and the dark child could finally make out— if barely— a dark figure at the gate. Near him lay a both odd and fascinating shape, one that Emaleth instantly desired to touch. He spoke, and the words flowed over her like a current; she felt them, absorbed them, but they held no meaning for her. Usually quick to aid her companion without complaint, the little Emaleth found, suddenly, that she had no more patience for it in this moment. It had been the first time she had protested Deirdre's requirement of her, and while those moments would be rare going forward, neither would they be uncommon.

She glanced at her younger sibling, seeing her hesitation, but then approached the stranger at their door with an innocent confidence. After all, Emaleth had yet to experience real danger, and it would not be until later that she would know that strangers were not always as kind as the Source and the other visitors to the den. This particular visitor was different than the two she knew, but also seemed familiar— and she accepted his presence without complaint.

Instead, her attentions locked upon the tines at his feet, and she immediately set out to explore them with her tiny jaws.