George Stephens is freezing now.
Being young, his body temperature doesn't stay stable like an adult's. He's been cold for a whole day and night, and his hands and feet are already icy.
He bowed his head, hugging the clothes that still carried Daisy Ginger's warmth. The outfit emitted her scent, quite different from what he'd imagined—not smelly, but pleasantly fragrant.
Realizing he was secretly smelling the clothes, his face flushed with embarrassment. He sneaked a glance at Daisy Ginger, who was resting with her eyes closed, ignoring him. Feeling relieved, he clumsily began to lay Daisy Ginger's coat on the ground as a bed.
Adult clothing is too cumbersome for a child. He was only three years old, with short limbs, entangled with the clothes for a while, and then "plop" fell into the pile of dry leaves.
"Plop."
Daisy Ginger opened her eyes, looking at George Stephens struggling amid the clothes and leaves.
