"That's your name? Matt Thorn?" Her smile came more naturally when the boy nodded and sat up a little straighter. "Well, Matt, how long has it been since you had hot cereal for breakfast?"

"Long...time."

"Do you want to help me make it? You could pour it into the water, or stir it. You aren't afraid of the fire, are you?"

"No." Matt scooted over next to her without any prompting.

"That's good." She dug into the supply pack for the bag of cereal. "You didn't come just for breakfast, did you?"

"Made me come." He gestured with a lift of his chin at the Azuli, which watched them from Miranda's abandoned bed.

She fought not to grin, knowing she would be offended if she were Matt.

"We can take you home to your parents, if you want. You don't feel sick anymore, do you?"

"Home?" Matt shivered. His mouth opened, lips twisting into a curious smile that was half a rictus of pain. Tears touched his eyes but he blinked them away. "Home."

"We'll send you home as soon as we finish breakfast," Ian said.

Miranda jumped. The boy didn't. She suspected he knew the Scout captain was awake and listening and the lack of movement had made Matt feel safe.

"You might as well come over here and help us make breakfast," she said. Turning, she saw Ian roll over and kick aside his blankets. He gave her a cheeky grin and a brief thumbs up, hiding the movement by standing.

"Diff'rent," Matt said. He gestured at the insignia on Ian's shoulder and shirt pocket. He didn't move aside when the man joined them by the fire.

"Different from what?" she asked. She didn't need the prompting look from Ian.

"O-others." He stroked the red streaks on his cheek.

"Other people hurt you?" Ian said. His lips twitched when the boy nodded quickly. Miranda wondered if he struggled as she did to keep calm despite the anger and confirmed suspicions. "We're Scouts, and Scouts only hurt people to stop them from hurting others. If you tell us about those other people, we'll try to stop them from hurting other Wildlings."

Matt considered, head bowed, drawing into a ball of bent arms and legs. Miranda wondered if that was a bad sign, or it meant the boy was simply thinking deeply.

"Hungry," he said, raising his head again.

"One constant in the universe," Ian said with a chuckle. He gestured at the steaming pot hanging over the flames. "Think it's hot enough?"

"It had better be," she said. "Matt, did you want to pour, or do you want me to do it?"

"You." The boy put his hands on hers, tightening her grip on the bag of cereal.

Miranda caught her breath. His touch was so strange; calloused hands; small hands; the skin gritty with dirt, the nails jagged; skin stretched tight over hard muscle and sinew. His hands could kill her if Matt were provoked enough.

He had touched her voluntarily, no coaxing on her part. Miranda concentrated on that and not the other details. Matt trusted her, initiated contact, spoke without threats or punishments or pleading. All in total opposition to the standard reaction of Wildlings recovered from the forests of Chorillan.

Miranda knew then that either the records lied, or there were better, less damaging ways of recovering the children.

She let Ian take over the conversation while she stirred the cereal into the hot water and brought out bowls and spoons. She caught a glimpse of movement under Coreen's blankets. Like her captain, the Psych Tech was awake--probably Droban, too--and listening to the conversation. Knowing Coreen, Miranda suspected she recorded the conversation and made notes. Likely Droban itched to do a medical exam on the boy.

Ian asked Matt about finding food, shelter, and why the Azuli 'made' him come to them. Matt couldn't differentiate between the 'how' and the 'why.' The Azuli caught the rags of Matt's shirt in its teeth and dragged him along when he grew stubborn, or pushed him with shoulder or head the rest of the time. From the boy's remarks and his sullen expression, it had taken more than a day to get from where they had seen him before, to this camp.

Maybe the boy didn't care why his protector had forced him to contact the adults. Maybe, Miranda thought, 'why' didn't matter to wild animals, which Wildlings were at this stage.

But did a wild animal sit and answer questions, with a vocabulary and elocution that improved rapidly, and wait for breakfast to finish cooking? She smiled at that thought and kept stirring the pot.