In dreams, he was the Little Match Girl, spending hour after mesmerising hour in front of fancy, colourful windows on perishingly cold evenings.
Accepting of this cruel fate and waiting for the warm embrace of Grandmama.
Grandmama, did not however, pull him tenderly into her warm breast when the chill found him.
It was the Governessa's icy fingers, that grasped this little one, and took him down among the willow roots to join her brood.
And hence, the fate of that sorrowful Little Norbyrt, was sealed one chilly winters eve.