At the shrine
The man grunted. "And if I don't work, how do I eat?" He shot Simon a withering look as he pulled his clothes back on, before walking off.

The young boy stepped forward gingerly, his eyes only darting up to meet Simon's for a split second. The boy could only have been two or three years younger than the hedge wizard, and the L'Anguiller realised that it wasn't stubbornness that was preventing him from saying anything - fear was written across his face.

The boy opened his mouth, but no words came out. His left hand remained tucked in the opposite armpit.