Her body was thin in his eyes. His coat over her skin made her look baggy and so small. She made a bag out of his expensive cloth; it felt for him as if he could roll her inside it and close it then lift her from the middle part like a basket full of jam, butter and apples that a grandma sent with her grandchild. It reminded him of that time when that woman he called mother did the same; she sent him on an errand to save him yet he disobeyed her.
For a moment, he wondered what would have happened if he stayed with his mother's friend. Sooner or later the executioners would have found him. It was a sentence that wouldn't be broken simply because he wasn't on scene. She was there too and somehow managed to see part of what happened but there was no way she would remember. The woman who knocked her unconscious performed a memory erasing spell; she was a witch mercenary working for reward. There would be no way she would remember. The witch had never failed in her spells.
