The poor kids were mortified by knocking me into the lake and hitting me with their ball. Honestly it was just an insult to injury at this point.

I had found a frog in my boot after I managed to fish both up, my hair style was toast and my dress clung to me uncomfortably even after I had wrung it out as best as I could behind a tree.

"This is what I get for leaving the damn house," I grumped, trudging back up the grassy slope.

The pack gathering was in full swing, music echoing through the trees and the smell of grilled meat drifting from somewhere uphill. The bonfire glowed like a beacon in the dark, promising warmth and, hopefully, a dry place to thaw.

My feet trudged forward, carrying me toward it like some half-drowned mothman — dripping hair, ruined boots, and my pride in tatters.

People stepped aside without comment, though they didn't have to, their faces said it all. I didn't care. I just wanted to be warm, dry and left alone long enough to lick my wounds and pretend this night was just some caffeine-induced night terror.

Sitting just close enough to the fire to feel its warmth and see by the light, but not close enough to make a grown up yell at them to back up, was a cluster of girls sitting cross legged in the grass. They all sat with their backs to the flames, hands busily braiding one another's hair. Nearly a dozen started flower crowns lay scattered on a blanket nearby, like the aftermath of a woodland princess raiding party—glorious in its chaos, fierce in its focus, and one glitter sticker away from total domination.

The oldest girl, who really looked no older than thirteen, must have spotted my movement from the corner of her eye and looked up- only to do a double take at my appearance.

"Are you...okay?" she asked carefully, nose slightly wrinkled at the state I was in.

I nodded and pulled my hair forward to wring it out. "Survived a teenaged missile and a lake ambush. No big deal."

They giggled, and something in their easy warmth pulled me closer.

"Tell you what," I said, flopping down on the dry grass beside them without an ounce of grace, tucking my dress over my knees and legs so nothing was exposed, "if you braid my hair too, I'll make you all the flower crowns your royal highnesses could ever want. Deal?"

The oldest of the group grinned. "Deal. But we go hard on the braids."

"Please do," I said. "After today, I need all the structural integrity I can get."

"Deal!" squealed a few, immediately scooting over to assess what they were dealing with.

"Whas jor name?" asked a little girl, bringing me a crown of daisies.

"Allison. What's your name?"

"Mae," replied the little girl, pretending to be shy for a moment before grinning. "I'm fwee!" she added proudly, holding up three fingers.

"Oh my goodness, that makes you a big girl, huh?" I asked—then winced as tiny fingers caught a knot and nearly yanked my hair clean out.

"Sorry," said the oldest girl gently.

"No worries, I trust you."

"I'm Giselle, by the way," she said, leaning over my shoulder a moment so I could see her face.

"Nice to meet you Giselle! Any particular crown you want?"

"Not really, but I like blue."

"Big girl Mae," I said, catching the little girl's attention again. "Can you bring me all the flowers over there?"

"I'll help!" called another girl.

"Me too!"

Soon, I knew everyone's favorite colors, their sibling rivalries, and that someone named Stevie ate his own boogers—whoever that delightful soul was.

I learned that the three closest to me—two brunettes and one raven haired—were sisters.

"What about you?" Asked the oldest, deftly weaving hair into an existing braid.

"What about me?" I replied with a smile as my fingers finished another crown, this one with english ivy as the greenery.