He ambles slowly forward, mindful to stay but a few steps ahead of Malcolm and Milady. As they progress past sacks of sawdust and hanging harnesses, the sound grows louder — clearly human. A small, soft weeping.
The light is dim, the sconces half-abandoned in the rush of the party and its sudden need to catalogue and cozy a dozen stranger's pets. A little girl crouches along the back wall, just visible, perhaps four or five. Her plain dress was clearly pressed recently, but some time in the past few hours has acquired a mysterious new coating of dust and mud.
"Maman?"
Alan hangs back, waits in the shadow to settle on his haunches once more. He knows not to come any closer. If Malcolm or Milady do, she'll fling herself to her feet, running to crush their legs into a tight hug.
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The light is dim, the sconces half-abandoned in the rush of the party and its sudden need to catalogue and cozy a dozen stranger's pets. A little girl crouches along the back wall, just visible, perhaps four or five. Her plain dress was clearly pressed recently, but some time in the past few hours has acquired a mysterious new coating of dust and mud.
"Maman?"
Alan hangs back, waits in the shadow to settle on his haunches once more. He knows not to come any closer. If Malcolm or Milady do, she'll fling herself to her feet, running to crush their legs into a tight hug.