Amon sat quietly behind the enormous tree, his gaze fixed on the small wooden house across the road.
The girl had entered the house some time ago, but neither he nor Arnold had left their hiding place.
A little while later, the door opened again.
This time, a woman appeared.
She seemed to be in her mid-thirties, with dirt-blonde hair, a few freckles scattered across her cheeks, and facial features remarkably similar to the girl's. However, unlike her daughter, whose expression had been tense and nervous throughout the day, the woman wore a tired yet gentle expression.
There was something about her appearance that suggested she wasn't in good health. Her movements were slow, and even standing at the doorway seemed to require some effort.
She welcomed her daughter inside before closing the door.
Amon watched the entire exchange with a thoughtful expression. 'So her mother really does seem to be in poor health.'
