"The older they get, the more their bodies are not as good. That is why I prefer children." Ivarr took in a deep breath, wondering if that little girl was still around, looking for her dead mother. Or what now remained of her. One way or another, that child was going to die. He would scour the grounds for her if someone else hadn't already gotten to her first.
Ivarr picked at the seaweed in his hair, pulling a piece out and idly chewing on it like a farmer might on a piece of straw. "The circus is a good way to see other places but there is always the rules. The contract. So it is not as free as I would like." The contract was the one thing that greatly bothered him about Cirque. It made him more paranoid about his bridle and about his freedom being stolen, becoming someone's workhorse. It was a fate worse than death for a Kelpie. He missed the Scotland he had known as a colt when he had been a part of a herd of his own kind, his mother Ficsean showing him how to feed and make floods and his father Cruadalach mercilessly tearing apart any other stallion who threatened to take away his rare mares. A thousand years ago, he wasn't a monster, he was a natural part of the landscape. He had never had to shift into a human.
"The people who believe in God have ruined much." He let the chewed up piece of seaweed fall to the muddy ground. "Who calls you a demon? Is that what you would call yourself?"