Marie has been ill the last two days, which means that she has not visited Madeleine. Her head is filled with rocks, cobwebs choke her throat, and she is sitting on hot coals and an iceberg.

"Look at that! Another stray. How distasteful, this village does not need any more fifth."

Marie hears her mother say, and this causes Marie to sit up. Something inside her tells her to get up, to go over to her window. She finds the strength needed to do this.

She draws back the heavy curtains. The stray in question is Sasha. Marie knows it is Sasha, and sighs. Sasha calling for Marie is not a good sign.

"I hope it's not the kitchen. I swear if she burned down the kitchen, I'll beat her with the wooden spoon." Marie takes her time in getting ready.

She ignores the protests of her parents as she leaves the house, walks down the path and greets Sasha.

"Well, you called, and I am here."

Sasha hrroughs.

"Well, what is It this time? What am I walking into? Is it the kitchen?"

Sasha moves her head to the left.

"No? Has Erik been sneaking out at night again? I told her that she might as well just accept it. He cannot be caged."

Sasha nods.

"So, it's about him sneaking out?"

Sasha moves her head to the right

"No? Hm. I suppose it's best if we just get to it."

Sasha gets up on all fours and trots back to her house, Marie keeping pace with her.

Marie enters the house, Sasha, her task complete runs off to find Erik.

"Hello?"

"Marie?"

"Madeleine, what's going on? What are you doing?"

Madeleine is pacing and running amuck in the living room. She thrusts papers, designs into Marie's face.

"Okay, and?"

"Look! Look!"

"These are deigns for buildings, why am I to take offense?"

"He designed them! This is not the work of a child!"

"Oh, you! You are such a terror!"

"I'm a terror?"

"Yes! Who cares how well he can draw a building!"

"No child at his age should be able to do this!"

"How old was Mozart when he composed?"

"This is hardly the same—"

"I think it is."

"Marie,"

"Are you jealous?"

"J-Jealous?"

"He sings better than you, plays better than you, understands maths you do not."

"I am not jealous of that- "

"Of your son."

"He should want to play in the garden, making mudpies, not these!" She shakes the deigns she has in her hands.

"You have a brilliant child; most parents would be proud."

"It's not natural!"

"You are so dramatic. This is where he gets it, you."

"I am not dramatic, and he does not get—"

"Listen to yourself! You have your own temper tantrums; it is where he learned it! You have no control of your emotions. You look for any excuse to beat him."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do."

Madeleine is silent.

"That's why you don't get along, you're practically the same person."

Madeleine cannot bring herself to speak any further. Her face changes several colors, and she crumples up the deigns in her hands. Marie removes before she can rip them.

"If you just shut up for ten minutes and listened to Erik, I think you'd find that he's pleasant company."

'Perhaps."

"if I can like him, you can."

"It's not that simple."

"Of course it is, you're just spoiled and want someone to do all the hard work."

"You are cruel."

"You are a cruel mother. I beg of you, have one conversation where you do not threaten him, where it is peaceful. He will respond in kind. I promise you."

"I suppose I can do this."

"Good. I'll take Sasha and you will have the house to yourselves for a few minutes."

"Why do you need Sasha?"

"It gives you more freedom, having both parents away."

Marie leaves Madeleine before she can work out what she had just said.