Toby went looking for Rusty the next day. Once he found the drone and was certain none of the other children were close by he moved closer and pulled a piece of paper out of his bag. It was a picture he’d drawn, one showing Rusty, a much brighter, shinier Rusty, holding Toby suspended upside down having stopped him plummeting to the ground.
He tentatively handed it over to the drone who stared at it for long seconds then sketched another wobbly bow.
“Thank you, master Toby,” Rusty said, still in the scratchy voice. “I will treasure this greatly.”
Toby beamed a smile, but the moment was spoilt as two older boys rushed in and tried to snatch at the picture. Somehow Rusty managed to float up and away from them enough that they just missed it.
The drone popped a compartment on his ches
