Not in the least put out by being appraised and then ignored, Claudia trotted until her step matched his own. She kept a fair amount of distance between them, however, lest the boy turn snappish. And she did not speak, for though she wanted to babble like a brook, she also longed for companions her own age. Madeline had been given to Claudia by some unnatural form of birth, but she was also older, with a woman's mind and a fledgling's heart. Claudia had long since stopped envying the woman her lot.
She, too, scented the other wean, and her small ears cupped atop her head. "Come out, come out, if you are there," she called into the cooling air, softly, as not to disturb her unwilling partner. As the last sing-song echoes of her little call died away, Claudia glanced at the boy.
He was like her; both child and adult, for he would not have been alone and moving with such purpose had he been a little fool. And yet he appeared too young for this cruel world, and some deep part of her wished to protect him from it. Overwhelmed suddenly, Claudia halted, watching the dark bairn and longing that she could be like him for one fleeting moment.
