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She went willingly enough; sure she’d meet him along the way, amusing herself with how hilarious it would be if he didn’t, and she had to rescue him. She would make sure he would never forget it.Bells was only two years younger and looked a lot like her brother, with the same short, dark brown hair except her’s was bound in a braid coiled up at the back of her neck and protected by her helmet and neck guard (long hair got pulled in a fight), the same round olive face, long nose and wide spaced eyes, although her’s were grey-green rather than leaf green.Her armor, like her brother’s, covered all her vital spots, worn as protection rather than decoration, made from a special metal that felt light when worn but was hard enough to withstand all but the hardest demon claws and teeth. Over this she wore a green and purple coat that was both fire and water resistant.There was a katana and a dagger attached to her waist, but Bells true weapons were, as her name suggested, bells. These hung in. Aunty placed her laden plate at the head of thetable, and then stepped over to me and plucked out my dum-dums by theplastic chain. "Baby doesn't need this while she has her din-dins," sheprimly announced. She laughed at the shiny stream of drool trailing frommy dummy-teat to my bottom lip. She dropped my oversized soother in aglass of water on the kitchen bench and wiped the excess saliva from myface with my terry bib. "What a dribble-puss," she chortled in derision,as she cleaned the dribble from my highchair tray with a damp flannel. Myface fell when she picked up a colourful plastic Barbie bowl from thebench and plonked it on the pink tray. "You can start feeding yourself,Baby Candy," she informed me with a tight smile, "while we grown-ups eatour dinner. Go on, baby girl. Eat up."Aunty June took her seat at the table and picked up her cutlery, while Istared in disbelief at my repulsive meal. The small plastic bowl was fullof pureed vegetables - it looked like mostly peas and.
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