her fingers become lit matches , the dull sting of nails imprinting tiny crescents into child’s skin . naturally she flinches , but she dare not push as muscles find themselves the shape of stone . “ ssstud - y . ” fragmented and drawn in the worry of thought her tongue becomes knots . but again courage is found , driven by curiosity and fueled maybe in the faint falsity of comfort . “ why ? ”
reaches to touch warm, soft flesh. gentle caresses as if to merely comfort. actions were slow, finger tips coming into contact with the child’s face. the she-plague wanted her to not worry, think as though NOTHING horrid could ever happen. not with them nearby ; one of two, aga was not like her brother, she was far more TENDER in her approach to death. ‘ your health, dear child... ‘ voice was low, lifeless. her presence ? much of the same.