Orange
(Aveline)
She normally pushes herself far away from such womanish thoughts—they are useless distractions for one, and a great way to lose the respect of your men for another. But when she sees a little ginger-haired child attempting, tip-toe, to climb atop one of the crates in front of the merchant stall his mother is shopping at, she can't help the little tug in her chest. It might have been.