Eron was about to go back to his tent when he heard that the door was opening, and children’s voices were heard from inside.
“Dee!!!” said Katya, the youngest of the three, just nine years old, small, jumping and waving her black, straight hair up and down with each bounce.
“Diwa,” Erica, the oldest, fifteen, said worriedly, looking at how pale their caretaker was. “Please, let her come in, guys, I think she’s not ok.”
“Yes, Dee, you look very pale. Come on, Katya, let’s move aside for a moment,” Macky, the one in the middle, twelve years old, tall and a well-educated gentleman, asked his little sister and then with his older sister helped Diwana get inside the house to the kitchen.
They took her to one of the high chairs that surrounded the kitchen bar, then young Katya, wh
