Seeing Ren running toward her, Kestrel felt a wave of excitement from her tendrils together.
"Ah, the fish."
"It's Little Fish!"
"Yeah!"
"Wow, wow."
"He's running, too."
"He's cute."
"I'm so excited."
"I want to touch him."
Ren ran so fast that Kestrel thought he might rush over and hug her tight. But, at the last moment, he stopped at a polite distance. Standing there, he looked at Kestrel for a while, then reached out and lightly touched the bandage on her hurt face.
"How did you get hurt?" he asked. His voice was rough and scratchy, very unlike his usual soft tone.
His touch was very gentle. It felt like a thin leaf on a branch had brushed over her face, making Kestrel feel a tickle.
Ren's bare hand, which had touched Kestrel, was covered with dried blood scabs and deep injuries, much worse than the scratch on Kestrel's face. But his look, fixed on Kestrel, was full of sadness. It seemed as if he had never seen blood before, and even a minor wound could upset him.
