How the girl’s heart had thundered when she revealed herself to the boy. His whimpering reminded her of pups struggling up the rocks, separated from their mothers. She could not but help him.
There was much risk in being seen, but what did this boy know of her? It was nothing to check on him. Her cousins had often helped others of his kind in troubled waters, taking pity on their flailing and thrashing; she could do no less.
Showing herself to the one called Allie Jo had been no accident. She had observed Allie Jo from afar for many days. The young girl had brown hair, not as dark as her own, and green eyes, the color of seawater. Often, Allie Jo poured black shells and yellow seeds into small wooden houses on poles; birds fluttered to the little shelters, eating greedily.
Once, after Allie Jo left, she’d scooped up some of the black shells for herself. They were crunchy, like winkles, her favorite snack.