Martin had a dull imagination. While his siblings played "bears" or "duck the window-sneak", David would sit alone by the pond, pushing little curls of earth around with a stick.
"Rarr! I'm the bear! You have to run!"
Out of the woods came his youngest sibling Gregory. She was tall for her age, but willow-thin, with shapeless joints masked by bespreckled flesh.
"You aren't a bear. Now, a bear I'd run from. You I just observe mutely until you get bored and leave."
"Listen to you! 'You ain' a bar.' You sound like a hick, playing dumb like that. Don't be so common." For seven, Gregory had a fluid melody to her voice that caught you off guard.
"I know you're trying to hurt my feelings," Martin began, "but it won't work as I haven't any." Martin retained the inhuman smile on his face. "And speaking of insults, now who's being common?"
"Now you're being impossible." Gregory scowled. She turned away from Martin, but kept him in the corner of her eye.
Grinning now, a very human grin, Martin roared like a lion and charged toward Gregory, his arms outstretched. "Rarr! I'm a lion! I EAT bears for breakfast!"
Gregory squealed and ran in mock terror, giggling all the way. Martin caught up with her quickly and, scooping her up, placed her on his shoulders. Together they ran through the woods, howling and growling at everything they could see, pointing out shapes as they ran past that looked like wolves or dogs and screeching at them in all directions.
All directions, including the direction that ends this story.