12
Caius carried his precious burden back home, paying mind to not attract the attention of the locals who would have made awkward inquiries. There was one snoop, however, that couldn’t be avoided. We were just entering the back gardens when a shrill voice spoke up from the neighboring house.
“What’s going on there?” Mrs. Shrilt called out from her own garden, and at her back was the brooding and curious face of her son, the male Shrilt. She placed her hands atop the stone wall and leaned over for a better look. Her eyes widened when they beheld Matthew in Caius’ arms. “My goodness! Whatever happened to him?”
“Probably flew into a tree,” her son spoke up.
She shot a glare at him. “Oh Blake, behave yourself. You know he’s a much better flier than most for his age.”
“I’m sorry,
