~~A voice, called hysterically into the wood “Elle est ici!”
The owner flailed her arms wildly and pulled a sleet-drenched girl from the ground. The man gripped his axe tightly, brows furrowed together like a caterpillar.
It was her.
She was shivering and crying in the wind.
The woman who called out in her native speech, grabbed the girl by the scruff of her rag and tossed her out of the bush like a cloth. The man searched for his wife and found her immediately.
An emotion wrapped around him. She was thinking about theiir daughter. He was almost sure.
This girl, an exception with her hair, reminded them of their dear Fleur.
Fleur was looked as delicate as her namesake, but she was strong in her illness.
But not strong enough.
The man moved his fat hands across his face, and held his axe tauter.
This girl may look like Fleur.
But this girl was dangerous, the man determined.
And where danger is threatening the family he has left,
He needs to put a stop to it,
In any way he can.