May 28, 1178
"Do you think he can see us?"Tavatala's cousin was no younger than she was; in fact, if her mother was to be believed, he was even a couple hours older. But still, Vyriat was such a child at times. Perhaps it was just symptomatic of his being a boy.
Oh well. There was certainly nothing wrong with being the clever one. "I don't think he has eyes."
"Hear us, then?"
The way Vyriat was talking, Tavatala thought they would have known. "I don't think he has ears either. Or a mouth, for that matter--or a nose.""Then how does he get around?"
Tavatala rolled her eyes. Vyriat always missed the most obvious answers. "He must have something we don't. Maybe the feathers help somehow."
"How?"
Ugh. How her aunt and uncle coped, she didn't even want to consider.
Ah, but they weren't even ten yet. Surely he'd grow up in a few years?"I don't know. I don't have feathers; how should I know what they're for?"
"Birds fly with feathers."
Well. At least Vyriat had eyes. "He's not a bird. He's... I don't know what he is. Some kind of Dovan."
"A shiny Dovan."
And to think--that would probably be the most sensible thing out of his mouth all week.
"Yes, Vyriat. A shiny Dovan."NEXT CHAPTER:
