“The boy was ragged and unkempt, with dark shaggy hair and wary eyes. His frayed clothes hadn’t been washed in the recent past. Neither had he. He stood perfectly still and watched my face. There was a sheen of sweat on his skin which might or might not indicate fear.
‘What’s your name?’ I asked him.
He shook his head, not understanding.
I tried Glakti. ‘Nemyu?’
‘Lyn,’ he whispered.”