When he first came to town, everyone was frightened of him, including me. Who wouldn't be frightened of a man with a shock of dirty white hair, a wild face, and claws for hands who babbled like a child?

So we hid from him. We stepped away when we saw him in the street, pulled our children closer to us and urged them to keep away for that man for the Maker's sake. I watched him from my window, wondering who this man was and what had happened to him to give him such claws. Had he wanted them? What sort of thing could do that?

One day as I was walking in the street, he came closer to me, his terrible claw outstretched. I gasped and moved away from him and he drew back, startled. Then a flying stone hit him in the arm.

"Leave her alone!" one of the townspeople cried. "Stay away from the old woman, you monster!"

The creature drew back, muttering nonsense and looking about him with terror. More stones flew threw the air and struck him, forcing him back against the wall.

"Get out of here!" "Leave our town, you freak!" "We don't want your type here!" "Leave us alone!"

They closed in on him, pelting him mercilessly. Yet he did not fight back. He merely curled himself into a ball and clasped his clawed hands over his head, making no attempt to defend himself.

"Stop!" I cried, horrified. "Stop it, leave him alone!"

Nobody listened. I pushed my way through the crowd and stood in front of the trembling creature - no, man - and glared at the people. "Leave him alone! Can't you see? He didn't want to hurt me."

"He's a monster!" cried a woman. "He's not like us! Maker only knows where he got those claws!"

I shook my head determinedly. "Just look into his eyes. He's a person like us. I think he wants help."

The crowd looked at me, and I glared them down. Nobody would dare to harm an old woman, even if she did stand between them and what appeared to be a monster. One by one, they dispersed.

The man slowly unclenched his claws and looked up at me, bleeding and bruised. "Yank thoo… uh, thank you."

"What's your name?" I asked.

"P-Peet."

"Come with me, Peet." I moved to help him to his feet, but he flinched and drew away from my touch. "It's alright. I won't hurt you."

Slowly, I coaxed him up and into my house. Everyone else stared at me as if I was crazy, but I brought him inside and sat him down at the table. I tended to his wounds and gave him a bowl of stew.

"Now, where did you come from, Peet?" I asked him over our steaming bowls.

Peet didn't answer, staring down at the table and pushing his meat around with his spoon.

"Peet?"

He started and looked up at me, and for the first time I noticed just how much pain and sorrow were in his eyes. "I knon't dow… I don't… I can't… I left him. I left him."

"Peet, it's alright. You don't have to tell me."

Peet was crying now, large teardrops adding salt to the stew. "I left him."

"Who did you leave?"
"I left him!"

I got up from my place and gently put an arm around the sobbing figure. "Shhh. There, there. I'm sure you can find him again."

Peet shook his head and wept, covering his eyes with the claws. I hugged him gently, wondering what this strange man had been through to make him like this. It was several minutes before he quieted down.

"Are you trying to go somewhere, Peet? Is there any way I could help you?"
"Must jind fewels… find jewels… Wingibys… Iggyfings…"

I thought for a minute. "You know, Wingibys sounds like Igibys. At the Dragon Day Festival in Glipwood, I met a Nia Igiby with three small children. Are you looking for them?"

Peet nodded eagerly. "Nia Wingiby! Featherwigs! Iggyfeathers! That's them!"

"I think you should get started, then. Glipwood isn't too far from here."

"Yank thoo." Peet dried his eyes with a rag from his tattered shirt. I looked at him sadly, my eyes wandering to his claws.

"Here, I have something for you." I went to a dresser and pulled out a bundle of striped woolen socks. "Put these on your hands. If people can't see them, they won't try and hurt you like that."

Peet took a pair and slid them on, giving me a small smile. "Aren't yese thours?"

"I made them. They were for my son. He's… gone now. Never did care to take extra socks."

"Yank thoo."

I put together a bag with the rest of the socks and some food and new clothes and gave it to him. "Now, go. Find these Igibys. And Peet… whoever you left… you'll find him again."

Peet shook his head sadly. "Yank… thank you."

"You're welcome. Good-bye, Peet."

"Bood-gye." Peet slipped out the door and vanished down the street. I watched him go sadly. At least my son's socks would do him some good.