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After Nithel had the patch, about the size of an adult’s hand, torn, he moved toward her on his knees, about to dip it in the water and hand it to her. But as his eyes touched her, she looked like she was going to burst. Questions spilling and jumping inside her more than the water.

She leaned forward, hoping, yet timid. Excited, but wary and wishing she wasn’t. “Is Dewos real?” The words were rushed, but forced.

Nithel stopped, his brows popping to the top of his forehead. Dewos? Who was his father? Why- He opened his mouth to ask a clarifying question, and she clenched her fists, and red touched her neck.

She gritted out, as if frustrated with herself, “Dewos – the – you know –  Creator? Is he real – or no?”

Ahh oh… The realization came to Nithel’s eyes, and he lifted his chin in understanding. Then he lowered it, excitement and joy in his eyes. *thought* A soft smile touched Nithel’s eyes, a twinkle, then his lips. I have seen Him. *memories/images/thoughts* But he wouldn’t say that. His tone was sure as he nodded twice, eyes serious but full of joy. “He is.”

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