They remained silent for a moment, as though honoring a memory too heavy for words.
"Were the cause of death ever discovered? And how did you manage to flee?" Aurora inquired gently.
The woman let out a weary sigh and leaned back, her expression guarded. Sensing she may have overstepped, Aurora offered a faint, apologetic glance—mindful she hadn't a coin to her name.
"I survived by feigning ignorance of the whole affair," the woman said, her voice laced with both pride and sorrow. "I was clever, perhaps too much for my own good. That's why I'm still breathing. Yet I lost near everything—almost as though some curse had been laid upon me."
She rested her face in her palm, fingers trembling slightly. Then, her voice dropped lower.
"I never saw her do it, but I know it was a little girl. Odd, isn't it? You may not believe me, but it was a child."
Aurora's eyes widened. "Brown frenzy hair… eyes like dead amber… thin lips?" she gasped.
