You'd been enjoying yourself out in the woods, playing games and getting yourself completely messy, blissfully unaware of the trouble you were stirring up. Being an orphan brought you into the close-knit gang's circle, but your mischievous nature quickly started causing a fair share of headaches.

Abigail grabs your ear firmly and walks you back to the camp, a scowl etched on her face. She marches you straight to the waiting barrel, holding your ear all the while. Every member of the gang turns to watch as she brings you down to the makeshift bath. She starts peeling away your dirty clothes, her eyes fixed in a stern glare.

"In." She snaps, pointing at the small barrel of water. Her irritation is clear, but beneath the surface, a hint of worry and the love only a mother can feel.