In the town square, Niall tried to spot the youngling pickpockets. As far as he could tell, they stuck to the side of the square near the park.
For a while, whenever he’d seen them, they looked better. Still underweight, but cleaner. Clothing decent. No air of desperation. Not thieving.
But now, it appeared they were back to dirty clothes and hair. And scoping out targets.
Did they have an alcoholic parent who went on a bender at intervals?
He wished he knew if they were Daonain or not. Surely if they were clan, someone would be looking out for them.
Well, waiting for them to show themselves wasn’t working. And they looked hungry. Time to try something else.
A discarded lunchbox in their garage had given him this idea. After a washing, he’d filled it with granola bars, juice boxes, and jerky. The stuff would keep even if not found right away.
Now, to see if he could find where they ran to when leaving the square.
He canvased the long stretch of park beside the creek. And there, beneath the pedestrian bridge, he spotted what might be the cublings’ nest.
Propped up against a concrete abutment, ragged plywood formed a lean-to. There were a few ratty blankets and a backpack with clothing spilling out of it. A sagging box probably held their few treasures.
Their scents were fresh, and he smelled no one else. Yes, this was their spot…and they obviously had no adult caring for them.
Fuck this heartless world. The cubs were homeless.
In a nearby alder tree, a pixie watched him suspiciously, like he was a jay robbing another bird’s nest.
He set the lunchbox inside the lean-to, and guilt stabbed at him. This felt an awful lot like he was baiting a trap. Yes, he was.
But he sure couldn’t help them if he couldn’t talk with them. And after the way he scared them the first time, they’d run if seeing him.
And by the Gods, they were quick.
This wasn’t going to be easy. But…he’d do his best to see them safe and happy.