“Mama, mama! Where are you, mama? Elanore, Elanore? Come everybody; quick, quick!!”
A little red-faced boy of less than eight springs burst through the cottage door, his hair was ruffled, his cheeks were stained and slightly out of breath. The little boy nearly crashed into the metal pots and potions bottles before dropping to the ground almost immediately, clearly exhausted. Elanore and I looked up from our tasks to see the little boy then jumping up and down, trying his best to get our attention. He was quite clearly agitated over something. He then ran into my arms, hugging me fiercely. His tears streaking down his face, and began sobbing louder. He hid his face among the ruffles of my skirt. Silly boy! I thought fondly, my precious little boy, Zara…
“Zara, what’s wrong baby? Tell mama, come now ssshhh… come, come take a deep breath, Zara. Elanore came up to me with a mug of a brew, and pushed it into my baby’s hands. I tried to soothe and calm his sobbings, massaged him in the arms and pulled him closer in embrace. My darling boy! I smoothed down his dark curls, and pushed him onto a stool. I smiled encouragingly and waited for my little boy to calm down. He stopped sobbing and rubbed his tears away. As he began to drink his brew, his nose wrinkled in disgust. I smiled inwardly, it was funny to see how lavender brew can be disgusting. Elanore probably added some other bitter herbs when she brewed the potion yesterday.
My little boy began to talk, his eyes twinkled and flashed with intelligence and mischief. I prayed to Pater that he did not offend the Sisters again.