"Where's your hat, Aine?" Mama scolds.
"I don't know," she says, her grey cloak soiled, her wings disheveled, her green eyes filling with tears. "I've been singing and dancing in the circle near The Oak, chasing Fiona and Laoise onwing through trees near the creek, gathering berries in the meadow, and healing trees near the burn."
"I'd suggest you go find it, sióg óg. The rains will soon be here."
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