tears. Illyra and Seylalha started toward Gilla just as Alfi detached himself
from his sister.
Gilla motioned to the two other mothers to sit close beside her and carefully
slid the children onto their laps just as her own children reached her. She was
still making soothing noises, but the heavens continued their explosions
outside.
“Quiet-quiet now, my little ones-see, your mamas are here! We’ll keep you safe
now, you don’t need to make all this noise …”
“Can’t stop!” Gyskouras said between hiccups. His fair hair was plastered to his
head and his cheeks were streaked with tears.
“‘Fraid …” echoed the dark child in Illyra’s arms.
Both children were still trembling, as if only Gilla’s steady voice kept them
from giving way to their terror once more. Relative peace had returned to the
room, making the noise outside seem louder. Lalo looked around desperately,
wondering if it would help to distract or amuse them somehow.
Toys were scattered on the floor and building blocks, art materials, and games
were stacked on shelves to one side. Lalo’s eyes widened. He remembered abruptly
how his colored flies had amused Alfi.
Painfully, for now he felt all the aches from his battle with the storm, Lalo
went to the shelves and picked up a slate and a basket of colored chalks.
Holding them as if they might bite, he came back to the little group in the
center of the room and squatted down.
“Do you like pretty pictures? What do you like- butterflies?” A swift stroke of
the chalk laid the sweep of a red wing; another suggested the long body and