It was a changeling hovering just off the ground, its wings abuzz with the effort. It had red hair and similarly shaded eyes and was carrying a baby in its forelegs. She seemed to be speaking to it in hushed tones, trying to mollify it. It was surreal to watch. Out of curiosity, he risked the extra pain to sense what they were feeling. Sure enough, the mother changeling was trying to feed the little child, wrapped up in some kind of black weave substance, by giving it little chunks of emotional essence. The little changeling flailed and pushed them away each time and was still bawling, as if starving, yet it was refusing to be fed, and the mother was getting more and more distressed. Handy couldn't make any sense of it.