He had not expected to spend any part of his night hearing about the benefits of worms and their presence in soil, but Mable certainly guided him through the topic with an enthusiasm that was difficult not to share in.

There had never been a reason to know about worms – he supposed the streets of London would not have been the best place to find them anyway, had he been allowed outside to search. Malachi couldn’t imagine running about to pick up waterlogged worms after every storm.

“I’m sure the worms were grateful for that,” he said, surprised by her care for them. Plenty of children were… less sympathetic, to put it kindly, to the plight of smaller creatures.

Malachi hummed as he considered the question, leading Mable back the last few watery steps to the shore. What was his best creature… what a curious question that was. Human beings, realistically, though they doubled as the worst as well.

Not worms, despite the girl’s convincing argument. Not fish. Something pretty, but capable of violence too; something that could always get away. Worms might have burrowed underground and lived in the dark, like him, but he had always dreamed of open sky.

“You do make some excellent points,” Malachi nodded, then decided, “but mine is a bird. They can sing and fly.”

Those seemed like sound reasons to him. He walked her over to where their shoes sat before he bothered to release her hand, and even then, it was only to lean down and put his shoes on.

“Suppose next time we should bring towels,” he commented as he did.