"It's a little like magical sensitivity, except animals don't react in special ways to enchanted things," says Shura's grandmother, "they can only tell the difference between daemons and animals. In people, being able to tell that easily and quickly usually comes with being able to tell things about magic. The faster a mortal could tell that Kalavar isn't a duck, the more likely they'd be to notice my dagger's enchantments, or my birth blessing, or tell that I'm not a mortal even if I dressed up like one. Of course witches have higher magical sensitivity than mortals do."
"Oh," says Helen. She pets Kalavar's fuzzy head and throws a handful of corn kernels to the ducks. "Why's it different for animals and people that way?"
Shura's grandmother starts explaining evolution. If animals couldn't tell that daemons were part of people, they could not act correctly afraid of them - which they must do. Daemons don't have to eat for themselves, and if they help their people hunt, they may attack animals that their current shapes would not disturb. Children's daemons are even more versatile; if the ducks were fooled by Kalavar, Helen could hide, Kalavar could go among them, and then she could turn into a fox right on top of a real duck and there would be dinner.
...Kalavar turns into a small blue dragon and looks speculatively at the ducks.
Kalavar giggles and duckling-squeaks at him some more. It is indeed adorable.
"You're tickly," she giggles.
It is later, when Helen is just past her sixth birthday, that Ranata brainphones Kas who is off somewhere. [There's a lovely-looking children's aquarium opening in Chicago,] she says. [I thought perhaps Helen would like it. We could all three go, with Charlie if he's up for the flight but he probably won't be.]