Two Rivers Isle life is sweet, in the belly of the beast

Soon his snaps fell away. It took Niamh's intervention to make him wise-up, or at least spook him in to pausing long enough to get a glimpse of both girl's faces; they spoke and it was the same as ever, sounding like he was under water, but he was at least placid enough to listen. As Niamh made to turn away in defeat and anguish, he lunged.

But there were no teeth. He didn't bare that dangerous smile, didn't gnash them after her—he took a hasty step and found his mouth opening, closing, opening, whining, almost like a family pet being left out in the cold. Don't go, said the expression on Screech's face; maybe the stranger was oblivious to the way the boy reacted, merely along for the ride, because nothing stopped him from communicating in this deeply basic, instinctive way.

They were going to leave him—their expressions, their posture, everything about them said exactly that. What was he going to do now but fade away?