Sleepy Fox Hollow Down the road

For the second or third time, the answer from the boy came in a garbled string of words. Anselm looked Donnie over as if expecting a third eye to sprout from his forehead — he was young but not a nascent, so what was his issue?

Maybe his parents had dropped him at Paleo’s door in light of this defect. Anselm weighed his options. If Donnie couldn’t speak, would he be able to hunt? If they took him in their fold, would he be a burden and an additional strain on their resources? 

Right. Uh. Vell… He tried to remember how Reyson had handled him those many months ago. He bid to turn when Donnie reached forward, nose pressed to his cheek. A surge of an instinctual reflex came over him, but Anselm had nothing to give. Hey! Don’t do that. He chided, forgetting about the “squirrel” in the bush which now pressed closer. I’m going to bring you to my mom. She’ll know vhat to do. Anselm announced, as if the boy processed the capabilities to understand. Come on. It was then he turned his spine to Donnie (and by proxy, the large cat in the bush) and began to walk into Paleo’s heartland.