The small feet of a boy dangled just above Alpheo's head. If he stood, if he jumped, even lightly,he could grab them and pluck the boy straight out of the branches. But he didn't. He watched instead, the afternoon sun filtering through the leaves, painting shifting gold patterns over Basil's bare ankles.
"Aren't you coming down?" he finally asked.Peering up at the light of his life.
From above, a pause. Then the boy's voice ringed up : "It depends....are you going to punish me?"
Alpheo arched an eyebrow. "If I were you," he said, "I wouldn't think a tree would stop me.You are too sharp for that."
Basil went silent again, his little chest rising and falling between the leaves. A sigh escaped him, too heavy a sound for a child, and then the branches shook as he began to climb down. The boy moved carefully, barefoot against bark, until he dropped to the ground with a soft thud and stood before his father, eyes searching his face.
