“There was someone in the mortal world who helped me. I left without telling him goodbye.” “Was it important to tell him?” Toadling stared at her fingers, at the little webs at the base. Was it? Did it matter? He was mortal and Toadling was … something else. Something betwixt and between. Something less, not more. She had no family, no people, and the little that she knew of the mortal world was two centuries out of date. She might be no more than a burden to him. And yet … and yet … He likes stories. And I know so many. And he says his mother is kind. “Yes,” she said. “I think it was.”
