[That tickles! And it's strange to be touched so much - even the boy only ever grabbed her hand or curled up with her to sleep. Yorda curls her arms up to shield her face, half pulls up her knees as far into a protective ball as she can get, and squirms, making little uneasy noises that are half involuntary giggles, half unhappy yelps.]
I...ah! I don't understand...please, stop...!
[She has nothing of value with her, or for that matter anything with her except her simple, slightly ragged dress.]
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I...ah! I don't understand...please, stop...!
[She has nothing of value with her, or for that matter anything with her except her simple, slightly ragged dress.]