Sleepy Fox Hollow Catacombs and water mains.

Triumph speared through Anselm as he held the full bore of the seacoast boy’s gaze. But it wasn’t just goading victory that thumbed its way through his conscience — somewhere in the back of his mind, Anselm registered he was being cruel for little good reason. 

For now, he finished his urination with a flourish. Droplets of pale liquid clung to the berries’ surfaces, occasionally slipping down to darken the ground. 

He expected to rouse anger in Etienne and readied for a rebuke that never came. Instead, Etienne turned his back to him and began to pad away with a song upon his lips. 

For several seconds Anselm studied the sway of Etienne’s backside, his gaze glinting with an emotion even he could not define.