Who Is More Thirsty?

The curiosity is increasing when we have heard some whisper. Looking at the bodies, my mother decides to bite one's lip, uncle bites the fingers. We begin to sing as loud as we can. And the last one is fallen down when the little group enter into his ears.

When we come out, I find two of them are trying to calm their partner. Now that girlish cry becomes loud and is heard at distance. I sit down and can't resist my mind without touching the blood. It tastes bitter.