"Mama, I think there's something wrong with me," Circe said, her voice small and uncertain as her mother, Thalora, worked to comb out the tangles in her long brown hair.
Circe's hair was so thick that it had to be divided into sections just to make progress. Thalora herself had a head full of hair, so it wasn't a surprise that her daughter had inherited the same.
Thalora, who had just started detangling a fresh section, paused mid-motion. The comb hung suspended in her hand as her daughter's words settled in.
"Darling, what makes you think that?" she asked gently, brows knitting together in concern as she resumed the slow, patient work of easing out the knots in Circe's hair.
Circe kept her gaze fixed on her mother's reflection in the vanity mirror, her eyes tracing the soft lines of Thalora's face and the flawless arrangement of her silky blond hair. It had been styled to perfection without even a single strand out of place.
