To Gerald’s eye, the refugees therefore presented a rather forlorn little group, almost huddling together and chattering in low tones in their own tongue. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground. No matter what they do, always someone to bolster them up, to lend them money, and to coddle them. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. “It’s your birthday today, May Day. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her.
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