"Nope, she ain't dead."
"Then where is she?"
"None of yer business!"
Fledra clenched her hands and paled in terror. A mother somewhere living in the world, a woman who, if she knew, would not let her be sacrificed, who would save her from Lem, and from her father, too!
"Lon, Lon!" she cried, springing forward in desperation. "Do you know where she is? I want to know, too."
He flung her away, a grunt of satisfaction coming from his throat.
"And I ain't yer daddy, nuther."
"Then you're not Flukey's father, either?" she whispered.
"Nope; yer pappy and mammy both be livin' and waitin' fer ye. They've been lookin' fer ye fer years—and yet they'll never git ye. Do ye hear, Flea? I hate 'em both so that I could kill ye—I could tear yer throat open with these!" The squatter put his strong, crooked fingers in the girl's face.
A sudden resolution pumped the blood to the girl's cheeks.