Fiona also rose from the pool to dry off and dress for the
day. “Yes, I have been to the Festival! The
lights, the singing, the colors…. And the ‘Spirit of the Snow’ dance is pretty,
too!” Her plan to blend with the students was momentarily forgotten in her
excitement of meeting someone who was from the same city and had seen the same
things as her. “I hope to someday be a
part of it,” she added, her words muffled as she slid the tunic over her
head. As a little girl, Fiona had been determined to dress herself every chance
she got, despite the disapproving looks from her mother. But the maids were
always insistent when it came to her hair, so she didn’t know what to do with
it now. As if to rescue her, River came up behind the child and began brushing
her crimson locks into a low bun.
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