The creature sat back on its long legs, watching him. Jamie could just see a muscular tail propping it up. An absurd thought struck him. ‘It looks like someone in a rocking chair.’
“Well, boy? I have all day to watch you; why don’t we talk?”
Jamie gaped at it.
“Hu, that’s the worst of you people. You don’t think anyone can talk besides your noble selves.” The voice was female and scornful.
“Oh! W-well, I’m sorry,” the boy stammered.
A gentle paw clasped his shoulder; a second raised his chin. He found himself staring into a pair of intelligent brown eyes. “Well, you look like you’ve been dragged a bit. What should I call you, besides human?”
“Jamie.”
“It’s not bad. My name is Neyri.” The eyes lowered in what might be shyness.
“It means ‘dreamer’, I’m afraid.” As she levered herself forward, he saw a round opening in her waist. The sight jogged his memory: tales about odd, furry people who carried their young in pockets. Rhu, that was the name! He jumped to his feet; Neyri hopped backwards in alarm.
‘I’ve done something wrong,’ he thought. ‘Now she’ll go away.’
She didn’t. Instead she reached into her pocket and drew something out. A loaf of bread; she was breaking it up and handing one piece to him.
