It's the only— [ William's head bobs into view, then vanishes. He emerges from the other side of the wall, ducking unnecessarily as he passes through the archway. There's a long smear of chalk on his left sleeve, still more of it on the legs of his pants. His eyes light on Robbie, something akin to amazement kindling there a second—other people are still a rare sight.
He steps back, out of the way. Drops the chunk of limestone in his hand. He looks over the letters—focused, receptive, as though expecting them to morph before his eyes. ] It's the closest thing I've seen to words. Not counting the tower.
[ He regards Robbie with implacable eagerness, an unspoken question in there: what about you? ]
4
He steps back, out of the way. Drops the chunk of limestone in his hand. He looks over the letters—focused, receptive, as though expecting them to morph before his eyes. ] It's the closest thing I've seen to words. Not counting the tower.
[ He regards Robbie with implacable eagerness, an unspoken question in there: what about you? ]