"Anne?" Lottie queried as things went wrong very fast. The poor girl just crumpled like a wet fishing net. With a burst of youthful energy, Lottie's old bones didn't ache in that moment and she was at the girl's side in an instant. Lottie wasted little time in gently placing the youth's head on her lap. A riotious mop of red hair, vividly clashing with the whiteness of the apron. Seemed nicer than the kitchen floor. Was she... dead?

"Oh Anne." Lottie whispered softly. This was exactly why the Blacke matriarch wanted to bring this girl into her family. Lottie could do her right and see she was cared for properly. In her solitude Lottie mumbled aloud a plea to a higher power "Please God save this girl, don't take 'er. Preserve my daughter Anne."