Izzy gave a humorless chuckle as Riley finished. “You make it sound like I’m dog-sitting or something,” she grumbled. She glanced back toward the child’s corner. Slowly, she stepped toward him, her gaze on the floor and grip on her staff tight. She sat near him, her staff held in both hands near the end of the shaft and back bent forward slightly.
	“Hey,” she began awkwardly, not entirely sure how to even try starting a conversation with him. Even if he would not speak, she had come all this way to check on him. There was no sense in leaving until she at least attempted to talk with him. “How are you feeling?”