[Folwren]

Mirelle didn’t answer his inquiries immediately. He wasn’t altogether surprised. It was, after all, rather difficult to talk when you’re crying and you don’t want to be crying. Wren stopped crying herself and sat in silence, but now, when Mirelle didn’t answer, she crawled forward and put her little hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“It’s alright,” she said, in her young, childish voice. “Don’t cry. You’ll be alright here. Cook’s awfully nice. She let us stay. Do stop crying, please. I know why you might be sad. Our Mami and Papi just died recently. Did yours?”

Mirelle lifted her head and looked at Wren. Tim looked on, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Then he shook his head and went back down the ladder as quietly as possible, leaving the two girls to figure out their problems. He was going back to join the party. . .after first talking to the woman who still waited at the foot of the ladder.

“I think she’ll be alright,” he said, stepping down. Something nudged him in the back of his mind. “I say, I’m sorry for being short. She surprised me with her crying. I’m sure you could’ve helped. . .but I think Wren’s got it under control. Do you. . .um. . .do you have a horse I need to take care of? I’m the stableboy here and if you do. . .how long have you been here? Can I help you with anything maybe?”