"Now, now. Calm down and stop squirmin', love," she spoke as she kissed the top of your head.

Your mother started to gently brush your hair, sighing at the seemingly endless tangles. "What in the world have you been doin'? Fightin' a damn troll?" She huffed and shook her head.

Yet her hands still worked with great tenderness, the one not holding the brush resting on your shoulder and keeping you still.