Ivan
"Nefera?" I call, frowning at the bathroom door. She'd been there for a while, and I didn't like it. "Nefera, do I need to get my mommy?"
We were in the packhouse, and we'd been playing in my room with my toys. Nefera was the smartest two-year-old I'd ever met. She could talk, she knew all her colors, and I taught her how to find all the letters in the alphabet last night. She didn't need my help eating her food or going to the bathroom. She didn't like it when I babied her.
The door opened, and she walked out holding my blue duck. She was smiling brightly, her long hair covering one of her eyes. I could smell the hand soap she'd used to wash her hands, and I couldn't help grinning proudly at my little mate. No one ever had to tell her the right thing to do. She was so bright that she didn't need help.
"Blue," She holds it up for me to see, making it walk in the air. "Duck. Duck, go quack."
