MOON-BOUND HEARTS
His blue eyes were bright and curious, taking in everything around him with an intensity that sometimes seemed almost unsettling.
By six months, he was sitting up on his own, a wobbly tower of determination. He was crawling, getting into everything, pulling himself up on furniture. Nothing was safe from his tiny hands—not the firewood stacked by the hearth, not the herbs drying from the rafters, not the wolf pup that Kael had brought home.
By nine months, he was pulling himself to stand, taking tentative steps along the furniture, his chubby legs trembling with effort. He was babbling constantly, a stream of sounds that sometimes, almost, seemed to form words.
Sikat na Kabanata