[He's small, fortunately, looking no more than twelve -- and she'll notice as she lifts him, a small and very sickly twelve. If he's eaten in the last few weeks, it doesn't show.]
[But still he nods, grateful, one delicate hand reaching up to brush at her braid with the same fascination as he had the shawl.]
[He tilts his head, nearly revealing his right eye, but not quite, and mouths 'thank you'.]