Rowan
The little blonde girl seated at the kitchen island was busy concocting some potion, from what I could tell. She glanced up from her task, glaring at me, then turned her focus on a bottle of calamine lotion that was sitting next to the sink.
“No,” I said firmly.
Kat shrugged, picking up a whisk and dipping it into the batter bowl.
“I’ll just wait for you to leave,” she sighed, her blonde curls bouncing around her ears as her tiny arms fought against the batter. Katerina was only nine but had a personality that could bring even the fiercest warrior to his or her knees. The last time I had seen her, she had been barely four years old, and she had been a handful then.
I stood, sliding the stool back into place and gingerly picking up my coffee mug, peering inside in the event she had put something inside of it when I wasn’t looking.