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Description
But of course, plain old "Wicca" wouldn't have the power to grant Aeva what she wanted.

That is why, at this moment, she sat at the main room table, gently cradling a thick paged book, with a frayed, brown cloth binding and delicate pages, the whole time, sucking gently on the maple candy.
She knew that inside this book, were hand written words, in a deep blue ink, blue as the depth of the sea.

These words just might get her baby back...

Her mother, Isolde D'Mierre, had been a brilliant woman.
She was almost like an "Inventor" for the witches... She wrote rituals. For years she tested with different mixtures and charms to create magics unknown to the earth.
It was all symbolic, all so very symbolic.
It was a shame her mother had been murdered by the townsfolk when Aeva was only eleven.
She breathed heavily and gently slid her fingers under the cover of the book, listening to the comforting, crisp sound of pages turning as she flipped through the pages. Searching for the perfect ritual.
She cried to longer, her body was out of tears.
There was no more sadness in her, only anger and desperation. Her eyelids, stained with dried tears, fluttered at her eyes scanned every page.
Nothing... Nothing.
It took her almost a full turn of the minute hand to find what she had been looking for. the title at the head of the page almost seemed to glow in her eyesight.

"Reconnecting an innocent soul to the body" The blue ink scribed the words in playful writing that looped across the page before finally settling at the end of the last word.
Underneath was a list with the blue ink labeling it "Directions." A funny word for something so dangerous.
She spent literally three hours, just sitting in the chair reading over the directions, the room illuminated by both the lone window, and the still angry fireplace.

Aeva didn't bother counting the time it took to gather everything she needed, all she knew was that it took enough time for an early morning, to become nearly midnight.
But when she had gathered everything she needed, she had placed everything on a soft red rug that was in front of the fire.
On the rug there were... Two jars filled with 13 live snakes in total, which she'd caught in her garden, there was also... A handful of lily petals, a couple rose petals, a bundle of ivy and the skull of a crow. The flowers came from a bouquet she had made herself a few weeks ago. The skull used to be a decorative ornament, but now it had to serve a greater purpose.

I'm out of my mind. She thought to herself as she gazed over the many objects, kneeling by the rug. This is all motherly grief going to my head and I am now out of my mind.
But when she gazed over her shoulder and her eyes set upon the very still body that was Dapple's... Her heart once again cried out in longing to hold her son again, and she knew she had to go through with it.

The first thing Aeva had to do was heal the body.. A simple task, and something she had learned to do when she was only eight.
She sat back down in her spot at the wooden table, and she pulled Dapple's frail body onto her lap, his arms hung down below her thighs.
Pinching a thin silver needle strung with a dark thread in between her thumb and index finger, she sighed and tilted Dapple's head back.
She nearly gagged when his wound opened like a mouth, letting her see into his throat. But she swallowed hard, and with courage, pushed the tiny needle through the skin of her son's neck, then she pushed it through the skin on the other side of the wound. Gently pulling the thread through, she then looped the thread over her hand, pulled the needle through and repeated the process. As she continued, the wound on her son's throat closed gradually. Although when she was finished, the wound did bulge a bit, and the thick black thread weaving it's way along a swollen, red line of skin did stand out against her son's pale complexion, he looked almost perfect.

But now she had to focus on the burns. They weren't enough to scar someone, but they'd hurt.
So she fetched a healing oil she'd made herself. Made from mainly thyme but also a few other mixed herbs to create a thin paste which she coated her hands with before rubbing down her son's burned pink skin.
The paste hardened to a clear film that covered the burns and shimmered against his skin. This, Aeva knew, would help the burns heal faster.
When she was finished, she gingerly lay her son's body back on the table, his head turned to the side in a was that was almost... Sweet.

According to her mother's book, the next thing Aeva had to do was fill a tub with cold water.
But, being ahead of everything, Aeva had already completed this, and now a good sized wooden, barrel-like tub she had crafted a few years ago for bathing, was now full of water and it laid against the far wall. She had filled it by running to the nearest river with a bucket, filling it, running back, dumping the icy water into the tub and repeating the process until the tub was full.
This tub full of water was perfect, for it had been crafted for a person to lie down, fully submerged in it.

The next thing she was to do, was begin with the crow's skull.
She picked the small ivory colored bird's skull up in between her finger's carrying it gently to her window sill, where she set it down.
Outside the window the view was soft, dark and peaceful, with a tickling cold breeze flowing through the midnight air. But she barely noticed, her focus was on the skull which she placed in perfect position.
Then she grabbed a large rock that she had also placed on the window's ledge-- and she smashed it down roughly on the skull, smashing it into several little white pieces.
But she was supposed to repeat this thirteen times... Thirteen, was the number of rebirth...
So thirteen times she brought the rock down on the skull, shouting in anger each time, pretending the skull of the blackbird, was the skull of Earl Brinon...
Several times she slipped and bashed her fingers with the rock instead, and although it stung and her hand bruised, and a bit of blood showed under her fingernail... She didn't slow down, let alone stop.

When she had hit the skull with the rock a total of thirteen times, she felt out of breath from the effort, she set the rock down and placed her sore fingers in her mouth for a moment, but the heat from her body only made them sting more, so she removed them.

Gently, she brushed the powdery remains of the crow's skull into her palm, making sure none of it fell on the floor.
Then, with cautious steps, she moved, step by step, across the stone floor, her feet gently tapping on the stone and her breathing shallow.
Finally, once her hand was fully over the tub of water, she tipped it over and let the shattered, powdery remnants of the skull pour into the water.
The white powder twisted and tangled under the water's surface like a spook before disappearing under the water.
Next, were the flower petals.
These were simple, she just sat down in her chair,crushing the petals with a herb grinder.
She sat for a few minutes, the muscles in her arms flexing and relaxing as she worked the petals into a red-ish brown-ish paste. This "paste" was then rubbed onto her child's chest, she carefully drew the curling wiccan symbol for life. Once it was done it was beautifully, artistically drawn.

Now, the next thing she did, was gather up the large bundle of ivy she'd pulled off her wall.
This, she wrapped slowly around her child's body, tying him up in the beautiful plant, which wrapped around him almost protectively. One piece of ivy ended up curling around his tiny hand, and for a moment Aeva though he gripped it, but when she blinked she realized that nothing had changed.

After a moment's hesitation, she wandered over to the rug and picked up the two jars that in total, contained thirteen small snakes.
Thirteen... Thirteen was the important number here.
Her next act was gruesome...
One by one she pulled a snake out of it's jar, placing it on the windowsill and holding it so it wouldn't wriggle. Then, with a previously sharpened knife, she hacked off the head. She winced as it's body writhed even after it's head was removed. This time she did gag.
Her next move was to hold the snake's dead body over an ale mug, and wait for the small amount of thin, red blood to drip into the cup.
The first snake only filled the cup up about a fingertip's width. But she kept at it, hacking and draining each snake until the cup was half full and each snake was dead.
She then, gathered up the snake corpses and like the powder, dumped them into the water, where they bobbed at the surface for a moment, before sinking to the bottom of the tub.

Then, was a very tricky part.
She carried the mug full of snake's blood over to the table where her son's body lay, awaiting.
Her son needed blood, he had lost most of it when those bastards slit his little throat...
So now, she stood over his pale body, the paleness of the skin was only exaggerated by the light from the fireplace, dancing and creeping across his lonely form.

She sighed and placed a hand on her son's forehead, as she slowly pushed his head back, his mouth opened.
Then, holding her breath, she began to pour the foul smelling snake's blood down her child's throat.
She had managed not to gag until then, but she failed when she saw a few droplet's of snake's blood, like tiny beads, slip through the thread that held the wound on his throat together, and trail down his chest and down onto the table, pausing there until it too, like the water, soaked into the wood.

Well, now there was blood inside Dapple's body... and the most important part could begin.
She slipped her lovely arms under her son's frail, dead, cold, ivy wrapped body and lifted him up.
His head fell gently against her chest and she sighed and held him tightly as she slowly made her way to the tub of water...
When she did make it to the water, she held her child just over the surface of the water. Leaning over him so her own curled hair brushed against his still face.

"Mama wont let you go anywhere..." She whispered softly to his gentle face, before she let go, and let her child's body slip beneath the surface of the water.
Even though he was underwater, Aeva could still see his pale skin glowing under the black surface. Unfortunately, being underwater gave him an eerie look. The darkness filled the hollows of his eyes and made his eyes look large and black, plus the blur took away most of his features...

He looked like a spook.

The next thing Aeva had to do, was lean over the tub of water, and as she placed her hand so it just grazed the surface of the water, she read from the book a long, dark chant in the language that is forbidden to be spoken.
A language that legend says the mountains and trees spoke at the beginning of time...
It was a ridiculous legend of course...
Basically the chant was a cry, a cry out to Dapple's spirit, to held him find the way back to his body.
It also pleaded to the spirit of nature to allow such a thing to happen.

The chant took many more minutes, but when it was over, Aeva felt hopeful...

The book told her to leave Dapple under the water for the rest of the night... She didn't want her son to leave her sight, but she knew better than to disobey the book... Because then she was practically disobeying her mother.
So, after sitting by the tub and singing Dapple's favorite lullaby, Aeva picked up her skirt and slowly ascended the winding staircase to the top floor.

Here, surrounding the opening where the stairs came through, was the room where her and Dapple slept.
The room was circular, strange considering the house outside was square... Perhaps their home was a renovated lighthouse... or mill? With the walls just built around it.
Against the wall was her bookshelf, where she had gotten her mother's book of charms and rituals, it also contained many other books. Most she had taken from the library to read to Dapple. The floor was littered with wooden toys.
In the corner was a stuffed straw tick mattress covered in a few layers of wool blankets... This was where Dapple and Aeva slept, clinging to each other lovingly at night... Dapple would usually want to be as close to his mother as possible, in case he had a nightmare.
Aeva sighed sadly at this memory, then she cleared her throat.

Oh please... Please let the ritual work... She prayed in her mind. I can't lose my baby... I just can't.

Then, she pulled her nightgown out of a basket against the wall and quickly changed, putting her day gown back in the basket, on top of Dapple's tiny nightclothes.
Afterwards she slid under the covers. The bed underneath was cold and took forever to warm up.
Aeva shivered in the dark. The bed felt so empty without her son there, cuddling close to her to stay warm...
But eventually, with the best hopes in her mind... Aeva let herself drift away, until her mind became as dark as the room around her...

"Cold... a cold tingling?
Maybe pins and needles?... No... Deeper, more painful...
Cold... Very, very cold..."

"Air... There's no air in my lungs... Why is it so cold?..."

"Mama?...."

Quiet thoughts... As tiny eyes peered at a slight glimmer of light... but it looked so far away...

Suddenly, there was air, lot's of it, as Dapple's soaked head pushed through the surface of the water...
He looked around , gripping the side of what felt like his mama's washing tub...
He gulped for air... Greedily drinking in more and more oxygen, it felt like he hadn't felt air in his lungs forever...
His soft brown eyes took in the surroundings slowly, it was so dark, wherever he was... But a bit of light was beginning to pour through what looked like a window.
He shivered as another ripple of rougher pins and needles coursed through his body.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out when he tried to call except for a throaty croak... He coughed and tried again... The outcome? A slightly clearer throaty croak...

He put his hand to his throat and felt a strange bump... it felt like thread... He whimpered...

"What's happening?"

"Mama?"

His own thoughts echoed in his own head, but he heard nothing.
At least now he knew where he was, his eyes had adjusted to his surroundings... He was happy to see that he was at home... His safe home... But where was his mama?

He looked down at the water and saw his own face, he was white... Very white... He leaned closer to his reflection...
and then suddenly, staring back...
Were the eyes of a snake.

He gave a failed attempt at a scream as he whacked at the snake's head with his small hand.
Then he turned and tried his hardest to flee from the tub, but then he felt something... Something veiny and wet, tangled around his legs, he tripped and fell out of the tub, onto the floor.

Whatever had tangled around his legs, was still there. He kicked and kept giving weak attempts at a scream, but the creepy snare still had him prisoner.
After a moment, he finally managed to grab it and rip it from his legs, hurling it across the room where he heard it thump against the wall, and slide to the floor.

Suddenly he was aware of everything... The shadows that crept along the walls... The hooting of an owl outside... The quiet inside the house...
The presence of a snake's eyes in the tub of water, only inches away from where he sat on the floor, soaked and shivering.

But the thing he noticed the most... was the absence of his mama.

"Mama?" He croaked one more time before hugging his knees close to his chest, and beginning to sniffle as little wet tears mixed in with the water dripping down from his pumpkin orange hair.

"Mama?"...

Description
But of course, plain old "Wicca" wouldn't have the power to grant Aeva what she wanted.

That is why, at this moment, she sat at the main room table, gently cradling a thick paged book, with a frayed, brown cloth binding and delicate pages, the whole time, sucking gently on the maple candy.
She knew that inside this book, were hand written words, in a deep blue ink, blue as the depth of the sea.

These words just might get her baby back...

Her mother, Isolde D'Mierre, had been a brilliant woman.
She was almost like an "Inventor" for the witches... She wrote rituals. For years she tested with different mixtures and charms to create magics unknown to the earth.
It was all symbolic, all so very symbolic.
It was a shame her mother had been murdered by the townsfolk when Aeva was only eleven.
She breathed heavily and gently slid her fingers under the cover of the book, listening to the comforting, crisp sound of pages turning as she flipped through the pages. Searching for the perfect ritual.
She cried to longer, her body was out of tears.
There was no more sadness in her, only anger and desperation. Her eyelids, stained with dried tears, fluttered at her eyes scanned every page.
Nothing... Nothing.
It took her almost a full turn of the minute hand to find what she had been looking for. the title at the head of the page almost seemed to glow in her eyesight.

"Reconnecting an innocent soul to the body" The blue ink scribed the words in playful writing that looped across the page before finally settling at the end of the last word.
Underneath was a list with the blue ink labeling it "Directions." A funny word for something so dangerous.
She spent literally three hours, just sitting in the chair reading over the directions, the room illuminated by both the lone window, and the still angry fireplace.

Aeva didn't bother counting the time it took to gather everything she needed, all she knew was that it took enough time for an early morning, to become nearly midnight.
But when she had gathered everything she needed, she had placed everything on a soft red rug that was in front of the fire.
On the rug there were... Two jars filled with 13 live snakes in total, which she'd caught in her garden, there was also... A handful of lily petals, a couple rose petals, a bundle of ivy and the skull of a crow. The flowers came from a bouquet she had made herself a few weeks ago. The skull used to be a decorative ornament, but now it had to serve a greater purpose.

I'm out of my mind. She thought to herself as she gazed over the many objects, kneeling by the rug. This is all motherly grief going to my head and I am now out of my mind.
But when she gazed over her shoulder and her eyes set upon the very still body that was Dapple's... Her heart once again cried out in longing to hold her son again, and she knew she had to go through with it.

The first thing Aeva had to do was heal the body.. A simple task, and something she had learned to do when she was only eight.
She sat back down in her spot at the wooden table, and she pulled Dapple's frail body onto her lap, his arms hung down below her thighs.
Pinching a thin silver needle strung with a dark thread in between her thumb and index finger, she sighed and tilted Dapple's head back.
She nearly gagged when his wound opened like a mouth, letting her see into his throat. But she swallowed hard, and with courage, pushed the tiny needle through the skin of her son's neck, then she pushed it through the skin on the other side of the wound. Gently pulling the thread through, she then looped the thread over her hand, pulled the needle through and repeated the process. As she continued, the wound on her son's throat closed gradually. Although when she was finished, the wound did bulge a bit, and the thick black thread weaving it's way along a swollen, red line of skin did stand out against her son's pale complexion, he looked almost perfect.

But now she had to focus on the burns. They weren't enough to scar someone, but they'd hurt.
So she fetched a healing oil she'd made herself. Made from mainly thyme but also a few other mixed herbs to create a thin paste which she coated her hands with before rubbing down her son's burned pink skin.
The paste hardened to a clear film that covered the burns and shimmered against his skin. This, Aeva knew, would help the burns heal faster.
When she was finished, she gingerly lay her son's body back on the table, his head turned to the side in a was that was almost... Sweet.

According to her mother's book, the next thing Aeva had to do was fill a tub with cold water.
But, being ahead of everything, Aeva had already completed this, and now a good sized wooden, barrel-like tub she had crafted a few years ago for bathing, was now full of water and it laid against the far wall. She had filled it by running to the nearest river with a bucket, filling it, running back, dumping the icy water into the tub and repeating the process until the tub was full.
This tub full of water was perfect, for it had been crafted for a person to lie down, fully submerged in it.

The next thing she was to do, was begin with the crow's skull.
She picked the small ivory colored bird's skull up in between her finger's carrying it gently to her window sill, where she set it down.
Outside the window the view was soft, dark and peaceful, with a tickling cold breeze flowing through the midnight air. But she barely noticed, her focus was on the skull which she placed in perfect position.
Then she grabbed a large rock that she had also placed on the window's ledge-- and she smashed it down roughly on the skull, smashing it into several little white pieces.
But she was supposed to repeat this thirteen times... Thirteen, was the number of rebirth...
So thirteen times she brought the rock down on the skull, shouting in anger each time, pretending the skull of the blackbird, was the skull of Earl Brinon...
Several times she slipped and bashed her fingers with the rock instead, and although it stung and her hand bruised, and a bit of blood showed under her fingernail... She didn't slow down, let alone stop.

When she had hit the skull with the rock a total of thirteen times, she felt out of breath from the effort, she set the rock down and placed her sore fingers in her mouth for a moment, but the heat from her body only made them sting more, so she removed them.

Gently, she brushed the powdery remains of the crow's skull into her palm, making sure none of it fell on the floor.
Then, with cautious steps, she moved, step by step, across the stone floor, her feet gently tapping on the stone and her breathing shallow.
Finally, once her hand was fully over the tub of water, she tipped it over and let the shattered, powdery remnants of the skull pour into the water.
The white powder twisted and tangled under the water's surface like a spook before disappearing under the water.
Next, were the flower petals.
These were simple, she just sat down in her chair,crushing the petals with a herb grinder.
She sat for a few minutes, the muscles in her arms flexing and relaxing as she worked the petals into a red-ish brown-ish paste. This "paste" was then rubbed onto her child's chest, she carefully drew the curling wiccan symbol for life. Once it was done it was beautifully, artistically drawn.

Now, the next thing she did, was gather up the large bundle of ivy she'd pulled off her wall.
This, she wrapped slowly around her child's body, tying him up in the beautiful plant, which wrapped around him almost protectively. One piece of ivy ended up curling around his tiny hand, and for a moment Aeva though he gripped it, but when she blinked she realized that nothing had changed.

After a moment's hesitation, she wandered over to the rug and picked up the two jars that in total, contained thirteen small snakes.
Thirteen... Thirteen was the important number here.
Her next act was gruesome...
One by one she pulled a snake out of it's jar, placing it on the windowsill and holding it so it wouldn't wriggle. Then, with a previously sharpened knife, she hacked off the head. She winced as it's body writhed even after it's head was removed. This time she did gag.
Her next move was to hold the snake's dead body over an ale mug, and wait for the small amount of thin, red blood to drip into the cup.
The first snake only filled the cup up about a fingertip's width. But she kept at it, hacking and draining each snake until the cup was half full and each snake was dead.
She then, gathered up the snake corpses and like the powder, dumped them into the water, where they bobbed at the surface for a moment, before sinking to the bottom of the tub.

Then, was a very tricky part.
She carried the mug full of snake's blood over to the table where her son's body lay, awaiting.
Her son needed blood, he had lost most of it when those bastards slit his little throat...
So now, she stood over his pale body, the paleness of the skin was only exaggerated by the light from the fireplace, dancing and creeping across his lonely form.

She sighed and placed a hand on her son's forehead, as she slowly pushed his head back, his mouth opened.
Then, holding her breath, she began to pour the foul smelling snake's blood down her child's throat.
She had managed not to gag until then, but she failed when she saw a few droplet's of snake's blood, like tiny beads, slip through the thread that held the wound on his throat together, and trail down his chest and down onto the table, pausing there until it too, like the water, soaked into the wood.

Well, now there was blood inside Dapple's body... and the most important part could begin.
She slipped her lovely arms under her son's frail, dead, cold, ivy wrapped body and lifted him up.
His head fell gently against her chest and she sighed and held him tightly as she slowly made her way to the tub of water...
When she did make it to the water, she held her child just over the surface of the water. Leaning over him so her own curled hair brushed against his still face.

"Mama wont let you go anywhere..." She whispered softly to his gentle face, before she let go, and let her child's body slip beneath the surface of the water.
Even though he was underwater, Aeva could still see his pale skin glowing under the black surface. Unfortunately, being underwater gave him an eerie look. The darkness filled the hollows of his eyes and made his eyes look large and black, plus the blur took away most of his features...

He looked like a spook.

The next thing Aeva had to do, was lean over the tub of water, and as she placed her hand so it just grazed the surface of the water, she read from the book a long, dark chant in the language that is forbidden to be spoken.
A language that legend says the mountains and trees spoke at the beginning of time...
It was a ridiculous legend of course...
Basically the chant was a cry, a cry out to Dapple's spirit, to held him find the way back to his body.
It also pleaded to the spirit of nature to allow such a thing to happen.

The chant took many more minutes, but when it was over, Aeva felt hopeful...

The book told her to leave Dapple under the water for the rest of the night... She didn't want her son to leave her sight, but she knew better than to disobey the book... Because then she was practically disobeying her mother.
So, after sitting by the tub and singing Dapple's favorite lullaby, Aeva picked up her skirt and slowly ascended the winding staircase to the top floor.

Here, surrounding the opening where the stairs came through, was the room where her and Dapple slept.
The room was circular, strange considering the house outside was square... Perhaps their home was a renovated lighthouse... or mill? With the walls just built around it.
Against the wall was her bookshelf, where she had gotten her mother's book of charms and rituals, it also contained many other books. Most she had taken from the library to read to Dapple. The floor was littered with wooden toys.
In the corner was a stuffed straw tick mattress covered in a few layers of wool blankets... This was where Dapple and Aeva slept, clinging to each other lovingly at night... Dapple would usually want to be as close to his mother as possible, in case he had a nightmare.
Aeva sighed sadly at this memory, then she cleared her throat.

Oh please... Please let the ritual work... She prayed in her mind. I can't lose my baby... I just can't.

Then, she pulled her nightgown out of a basket against the wall and quickly changed, putting her day gown back in the basket, on top of Dapple's tiny nightclothes.
Afterwards she slid under the covers. The bed underneath was cold and took forever to warm up.
Aeva shivered in the dark. The bed felt so empty without her son there, cuddling close to her to stay warm...
But eventually, with the best hopes in her mind... Aeva let herself drift away, until her mind became as dark as the room around her...

"Cold... a cold tingling?
Maybe pins and needles?... No... Deeper, more painful...
Cold... Very, very cold..."

"Air... There's no air in my lungs... Why is it so cold?..."

"Mama?...."

Quiet thoughts... As tiny eyes peered at a slight glimmer of light... but it looked so far away...

Suddenly, there was air, lot's of it, as Dapple's soaked head pushed through the surface of the water...
He looked around , gripping the side of what felt like his mama's washing tub...
He gulped for air... Greedily drinking in more and more oxygen, it felt like he hadn't felt air in his lungs forever...
His soft brown eyes took in the surroundings slowly, it was so dark, wherever he was... But a bit of light was beginning to pour through what looked like a window.
He shivered as another ripple of rougher pins and needles coursed through his body.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out when he tried to call except for a throaty croak... He coughed and tried again... The outcome? A slightly clearer throaty croak...

He put his hand to his throat and felt a strange bump... it felt like thread... He whimpered...

"What's happening?"

"Mama?"

His own thoughts echoed in his own head, but he heard nothing.
At least now he knew where he was, his eyes had adjusted to his surroundings... He was happy to see that he was at home... His safe home... But where was his mama?

He looked down at the water and saw his own face, he was white... Very white... He leaned closer to his reflection...
and then suddenly, staring back...
Were the eyes of a snake.

He gave a failed attempt at a scream as he whacked at the snake's head with his small hand.
Then he turned and tried his hardest to flee from the tub, but then he felt something... Something veiny and wet, tangled around his legs, he tripped and fell out of the tub, onto the floor.

Whatever had tangled around his legs, was still there. He kicked and kept giving weak attempts at a scream, but the creepy snare still had him prisoner.
After a moment, he finally managed to grab it and rip it from his legs, hurling it across the room where he heard it thump against the wall, and slide to the floor.

Suddenly he was aware of everything... The shadows that crept along the walls... The hooting of an owl outside... The quiet inside the house...
The presence of a snake's eyes in the tub of water, only inches away from where he sat on the floor, soaked and shivering.

But the thing he noticed the most... was the absence of his mama.

"Mama?" He croaked one more time before hugging his knees close to his chest, and beginning to sniffle as little wet tears mixed in with the water dripping down from his pumpkin orange hair.

"Mama?"...