[The squirrel looks between the two, taking small, sharp steps back and forth as it assesses its surroundings and tries to decide what to do. Finally, it skitters toward Grace, giving her hand a curious test sniff. It seems to keep still there, at least content to sit and not run away.]

It might be young. I feel sorry for it. It must miss its family.

[He pulls a few seeds from a pouch in his sleeve and sets them down near Grace's hand, letting the squirrel take them. It stuffs the seeds in its mouth and stays put where it is, accepting that this is its new home.]

I would take it back, but I don't remember where it came from.