Rowan looked at Dena for a long moment when they were introduced.
Not the alarm. Not anything dramatic — just the focused, unhurried attention of a three-year-old assessing a new person the way they assessed everything: thoroughly, and without any particular hurry to reach a conclusion.
"Hi," Rowan said, eventually.
"Hello," Dena said.
"You're old," Rowan observed.
"Rowan," Sera said.
"It's true," Rowan said, with the specific indignant logic of someone who didn't understand why stating a true thing required correction.
"It is true," Dena agreed, before Sera could say anything else. "I am old. Older than almost everyone at this table, I'd guess." She crouched slightly, bringing herself closer to Rowan's height — an old habit, maybe, from a life that had involved children at some poi
