"Her name is Maya?"
Something about the way she asked the question made Winnie shiver. She told herself it was because she was still standing next to the ice.
"Yes," she mumbled, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Her blue eyes turned cold, and her face went blank. Winnie inched backward in the sand before she even thought about it.
"Ha. Of course, her name is Maya. The bastards!"
Winnie frowned, unsure of what was going on. So she focused on what was important. "Where are you taking her?" She asked. "She is very hurt, and I worry she won't—"
"Home," she said with an odd look, as if deciding to tell her. "I am her mother, you see."
"You are?" Winnie asked with wide eyes, but for some reason she didn't think she was lying.
It was dark out; she couldn't exactly see her face very clearly, but it was hard to miss her blue eyes and black hair.
"I am, and I am taking her."
"Will she be fine?" That was more important.
"On my life," she said.
