Her pinky face glittered as the light of the bulb hanging on the ceiling danced on her forehead. Perchance it was those black lines that ran from the side of her cheeks to her lips and up to her forehead, which made her more innocent. Nothing in her being suggested what her mouth had professed. She looked like a baby, almost like a toddler that had miraculously learned how to walk and talk. How on earth can a human being be six-hundred and sixteen years old? Human being? That settles it then. Her skin was pink and lined with black lines. She was not a human being, at least her features gave her away. He had only seen something of her nature on TV.
"What is this place? Are we on earth?" Ham asked, but licked his lips when she shook her head.
