When her mother shut the cottage door tightly behind them, the raven-headed girl knew the physician’s medicine wouldn’t heal her. “Anna,” she said to the little blonde, who was panting from carrying her friend so far, “fetch the royal physician-” “But-” “Go!” The girl didn’t protest again, fine boots clacking against the cobblestones as she regained speed. “Evie!” the mother cried, cradling her daughter in a heap at her chest and running toward the cottage. Like she knew what had happened-she always seemed to know what they’d done. As the house came into view, the blond girl opened her mouth to scream for help but before any sound could come out, the other girl’s mother burst through the door. The dark-haired girl’s lungs were sputtering, each inhale a failure. A blond girl, no older than five, dragged a raven-haired girl an inch taller and a year older down the sea lane toward a small cottage. Two small pairs of boots echoed on the afternoon cobblestones-one pair in a sprint, the other in a stumble and slide.
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