Holt tried to imagine how Ash must look to a smaller animal, large and milk white, with eyes hidden behind a ragged strip of dark cloth. Holt judged that to be the most menacing thing about him, trying to look at it objectively. There was something alien in not seeing another creature’s eyes – in not being able to see their true feelings or intentions. Yet to Holt, Ash would always be the tiny hatchling who had curled up on his lap, who had been frightened and needed him.
