Eron was about to go back to his tent when he heard that the mansion’s front door was now opening, and there were animated children’s voices coming from inside.
“Mommy Di! You’re finally home!!!” gleefully exclaimed Katya, the youngest of the three, who was just nine years old, at around three and a half feet tall, jumping and waving her black, straight hair up and down with each bounce as she ran towards and embraced tightly the young widow who was still standing on the house’s wooden porch. “What took you so long?”
“Diwa, are you OK?” Erica, the oldest at fifteen, asked worriedly, looking at how pale their caretaker was. “Please, let her come in, guys. I think she’s not all right.”
“Yes, Mama Di, you look very pale. Come on, Katya, let’s move aside for a moment,” suggested Macky, the one in the middle who’s already twelve and a half years old.