The Sentinels enfants jouant a la balle

Alo, he greeted when he was closer, and dipped his head in a nod to show his respect for her; as a child of Lasher she held great sway in his mind, and as Deirdre's sister, he felt she was as powerful as any adult. Renoir knew nothing about magic or the beliefs of the woodland wolves despite having lived with them for so long. Aside from overhearing bits of Lasher's conversation with the pale woman days ago, he knew nothing of it. But he was aware of how far removed this dark girl had become since the locusts had visited them, and he wondered why.

Seeing as it was improper of him to ask, it would be better to simply enjoy her company. Yet she did not seem thrilled to see him, this strange golden boy, wandering the beach. Ou se pitit fi Lasher a repons lan se, wi? Ou gade anpil tankou l'men bèl, tankou sè ou yo.

Ah, but he was being quite strange. He had intended to mention the beautiful day! The chorus of the surf! The strangeness of the empty sky, void of birds, perhaps only because they were busy harvesting the carcasses of the many bugs being battered upon the rocks. Instead he sounded so off in his own ears. Mwen eskize, I do not mean to deranje ou — he dipped his head again, readying his body for departure just in case his blurted compliments were taken poorly.