Firefly Glen When Doves Cry

"He must be," Katmai said of Alaric, nodding vigorously. His father, after all, had composed song and story about Alaric and his fine attributes and his daring deeds. He was something of a folk hero to Katmai, though the young male half learned to take everything Dutch sang with a grain of salt.

And then —

He was cute? Katmai hoped that this was a good thing, but at the back of his mind, he had his doubts. He'd liked it better when she'd called him tough guy, but in truth, he was pleased enough if she'd just keep talking to him.


"That sounds very rude of them," he told her, quite seriously. He hesitated before saying, "I was lost when I was very young. My father and my uncle found me again, but much time and many things had already passed."

It was a sad tale. He didn't want to dwell on it.

"I would like to be your friend, Kinusi," he told her. "We should sing together, you and I. Often."

His eyes were sincere, and utterly without guile as he fixed them on Kinusi's white-splashed face.