"We mostly took in bastards, orphans. Only boys. Females can't survive the mutations. Even the boys only have a slim chnce."

He rested his chin in her hair. Searching beneath the blankets with one hand, he found the rise of her hip and stroked it, gently, with one hand. He used the palm of his hand, not the fingers, still unsure of the points. Pity Regis wasn't around to offer pointers -- and kind, philosophical platitudes.

"Druskelle, huh? Like Witch-hunters? Had some run-ins with them over the last couple years ... they're not big fans, obviously."