Blanche’s declaration that she wanted to climb the tree wasn’t a question. It wasn't even a request for permission. It was a simple statement of fact, a verbal precursor to action. Before the last syllable had even left her lips, she had already lunged forward, her small, sturdy arms wrapping around the rough, dark bark of the Mulberry tree as she prepared to ascend.
She didn't just climb; she scrambled. This wasn't the tentative, wobbling effort of a typical toddler. Blanche moved with a startling, instinctive agility, her hands and feet finding purchase in the grooves of the bark like a creature born to the heights. She was like a baby monkey—primitive, fast, and entirely focused on the canopy above.
"I really don’t think this is a good idea, Blanche," Ethan Gray said, his voice laced
