Alpine Lake alligator

Towhee found the woman’s lips fairly easy to read, until she gave her name. She couldn’t have “heard” that right. It seemed like it was missing a syllable or something. She considered asking for clarification, then Iope’s question distracted her.

You want to take that one? she asked, looking to her grandson. It’s alright, Skip. You can come closer now.

The blind boy closed the gap, displaying his uncanny precision when he pointed his blank stare right at Iope. Towhee kept her eyes fixed on his face now, trying to catch whatever he said. She was glad he couldn’t see the face she pulled at a telling twinge in her gut.

“There’s lots and lots of trees,” the boy said, speaking slowly at first before declaring a little more boldly, “Ma and Da say it’s named after the dust and pollen that floats around in the air, though I wouldn’t know about that!”

Chuckling under her breath and ignoring her increasing urge to find a nearby latrine, Towhee glanced at Iope. Would she understand Skip’s statement? Surely she’d noticed the vagueness of his gaze, which was considerably more obvious a tell than Towhee’s own missing sense.