Firefly Glen moonlight danced with the silhouettes

Immediately, the bounty hunter coveted these made-up songs. What did Kinusi like to sing about? What went on in the mind of a child that was happy and safe? He would ask one day, he decided —

Yet he had to think for a moment when asked if he liked stories and song. Such things had been offered in payment, in the past, and Catamaran had always insisted on more physical comforts: food or shelter. Healing. A warm body to indulge him for the night. It had little to do with like or dislike. He had only been doing his best to fill his most pressing needs for safety, sustenance and — and something else. Something he could not name.

Only now did he wonder if song could somehow sate him. He felt filled with something right then, at any rate.

"I do," he replied at length. And, only than realizing what she must be asking, "But I don't know many. I prefer to listen."

This must seem terribly boring, to so young a girl. He wished he knew how to entertain her. (He wondered, at the back of his mind, if the children from that coastal pack liked to sing and dance. Were the women there any more tender with their children than they had been with him?)

"My father knows many," he went on, choosing to think about a different coastal pack. "He can be found at this Moontide. The one that you mentioned."

The panther, at least, could be trusted to treat young girls with the care that he ought.