Muffy! Manners!” a little voice squeaked.
Jackson’s jaw dropped, and his eyes bugged out of his head. (Not literally.)
The creature in front of him was tiny, barely reaching Jackson’s shoulders. Her hair was tucked neatly in a ponytail, and she wore a brown uniform, ironed perfectly with little creases where little creases should be. A red neckerchief was tied at her throat, and a leather pouch was fastened at her belted waist. Her big, long-lashed brown eyes fixed on Jackson, and she smiled.
“Are you here for the tour, sir?” her squeaky voice pipped.
“Meeka?”