[color=D6CC88][u][b]Riverside[/b][/u] Amuné shrugged at Ethan's questions. She knew what amnesia was but not why it happened, and even that was only because she'd shown a talent for her mother's trade of village healer and midwife. The girl didn't have the magic gift to go with it, but even a mundane healer was a very useful person in a little village such as where she'd grown up. Her jaw dropped when Cecil said he was less than a year old. She scrunched up her face. "Are you sure? Maybe you forgot more than you think, because you don't look like a baby." The whole Machina-as-a-person concept was very confusing to her, and the girl kept trying to apply living-people rules to what wasn't technically alive. "Mommy never needed to heal any Machina," she told Ethan. "So I dunno if she could if she needed to or not. And..." her shoulders hunched a little as the image of the villages surrounding her mom and dad resurfaced in her mind. She shoved it away with a shiver. "And she's not here now," Amuné finished a bit lamely. "But Saint Edos can heal anyone, that's why he's a saint," she added, trying to regain a small amount of positivity. "Yeah, I can walk," she told the man, with a slightly brighter smile than before. She let him set her down and turned her attention to Wyth, who demanded his due by shoving his head into her chest and making rumbly noises. He was glad his girl was feeling better, though still not sure what to think about the man that had made her sad and the other child who smelled like metal, oil, and ozone. "I've never caught a fish," Amuné said, looking at the river. She'd seen a big river before, with her father on the way to a fair, and there was a little one, more of a creek, that ran near her village. The village children loved playing and splashing in it. It wasn't big enough to swim in, but that didn't make it any less fun. "I mean, I've seen people fishing, but I've never actually caught one myself. But if we can catch one, I can probably clean it." She supposed cleaning a fish was a lot like cleaning a small rodent. At the word "fish", the moorcat's ears lifted, and he looked at the water, then away in distaste. It was big enough to have the swimming prey, but experience told him that catching them in a strong current was more trouble than it was worth. Not that he exactly had a lot of practice. The water in the village was much calmer, and the fish there were usually on the small side.[/color]