She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. Wild's dwelling without apprehension, or quitted it without satisfaction. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. "No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other.
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