DANIEL had already been greeted in several distinct ways. by one princess, a sobbing mess clinging to his neck and crying all over the shirt he wore, by the other a pout and hands on her hips, trying to appear aloof and unaffected even at three years old. the prince, of course, had been shy to come to his arms, but once he had he had barely let go. it was hard on the boy to loose his father, and danny understood.
AFTER having played for quite a while, danny had heard his name screamed and then was crushed hard to a small body, much shorter than him and yet with the strength of three or four times his size.
â please donât cry on me. i hate it when you cry. â
    âI canât help it!â Clara wailed, her face pressed into his chest.  She missed this, missed the way he smelled and the sound of his voice and the feeling of him being right there.  It felt like part of her had been missing and now that part was back.  Her whole family was together now, how could she not cry? Â
    Clara finally pulled her face away from his body so she could look up at him.  âYou didnât write me!  You didnât tell me you were coming!  I thought something had happened to you.  Why didnât you tell me?â  Her eyes searched his, suddenly terrified.  What if something had happened?  What if he was coming to tell her he was sick?  âAre you alright?â  She pressed a hand to his forehead.  âAre you ill?â











