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“I know it hurts, but it’s going to help your hand heal better!” said Léof in frustration to the little boy. He grabbed the boy’s wrist more firmly to forcibly immerse the boy’s hand, but just then an angry-looking woman strode up to them and demanded, “What happened to my son?”
Léof hastily released the boy’s hand and stood up, bobbing his head toward her in a way that could almost be called a bow. “He pulled a stick out of the fire, ma’am,” he said. She wasn’t any bigger than he was, but the desire to protect her boy seemed to have brought out every fierce and protective notion the woman had. “He burned his hand, and we’re trying to get him to put it in the pail of cold water so it won’t blister.”
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