After a moment she cleared her throat.After a moment she cleared her throat. Her hands were moving nervously over the tiny holes where the speaker of the microcasette were punched into the plastic. "Bodily development from first cursory inspection seems to be normal." She hit the pause button again. She sat back in her chair, the microcasette where she stored her thoughts still in her hand, her finger poised above the pause button, where it was wont to rest as she ruminated. Her gaze never left the fern, simply rested there; her vision was still in the rectory twenty six miles away, inside of a brick building covered with ivy, down a long bright corridor, behind a triple-locked door. **** "Amazing!" She had breathed onto the glass of the observation window. She heard Father Dubrowski scuffle his feet for a moment, as if thinking carefully about what he was going to say. "Yes. An amazing case, even if a pitiful one. It's hard to remember that these are only children who have never felt the loving care of a real parent." There was a silence as the priest waited to see if his barb had hit the mark. "Don't you agree?" He seemed disappointed at the Doctor's lack of response. "I could argue that point with you, Father." She had looked at him with amusement. "I think the case could be made that he did indeed have all of the loving care that the wolves could provide, and we are the ones who are depriving him of what is his - hmm, shall we say natural?- heritage." "A very modern view, Doctor." She thought she could hear a slight sigh come from her companion's mouth. "However, that does not take into account," he continued quietly, "the spiritual considerations, which of course concern me greatly." She felt him looking at her as she gazed at the youth in the room, but did not reply. Her attention was elsewhere. Thomas seemed to be in his late adolescence; from the dental reports she had seen his age had been given as approximately seventeen. He was of medium stature, rail-thin; his naked body was sinewy and covered with scars and marks. His hair was still wild and matted, its thin blond strands clumped together with years of dirt and sweat. Apparently the attempt at giving him a bath had only been partially successful. "I would have expected an attempt to clothe him, Father. |