The child sticks his gaze to Anders now, almost unwilling to glance away, staring like a deer waiting for its predator to strike, despite the fact that he's too weak to bolt away. His breaths pick up despite Anders' attempts at reassurance, and there's the strange hum from before, softly at first but then rising--

And again, it breaks when Ciri joins in. Or rather, when she places down the storybook she had found earlier. In an instant, the boy reaches out and makes a grab for it, pulling it close to him with trembling arms. The shift has the cloak dropping from his shoulders but he apparently pays it no mind at all, more intent on having the book with him. He brings the book close to his chest, holding it with his arms as he stares at Ciri this time, lips quivering when she asks him those questions.

"I..." he finally speaks, and for a child his age it sounds far too shaky and soft and vulnerable. "I hear the scream... the screaming. Everyday. They said that it was to make me--to make me better."