Red riding cloak
Her sweet pink lips were curved into a smile, her face glowing with innocence as Mary glided- for that was the only word for it- over the fallen branches and leaves of the fall, her sweet hips swaying unconsciously with every movement. She had just turned 18, but her mind was that of a young girl, not because of any dissability, but because she had lived her life with only her mother, and visiting her grandmama, therefore only knew of things like skipping, singing, and such peaceful...