And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest.

His free hand moved down the curve of her waist, lower, to her apex, playing in the wet curls there.

I sat up cautiously, knife in one hand, and wiped the wet, muddy curls out of my face with the other.

Her wet curls hung down in her face, and she blew at them before reaching up to push them back.

Gently he pushed the wet curls back from her forehead.

She stroked the wet curls on Mikhail's brow with icy fingers, and considered her situation again.

She shook her own wet blond curls, impatient but wary, pondering, ready to kill or to bless, as might be required.

She was sleeping hard, her black curls tight and wet against her head.

He reached out, stroked back one of Bane's wet curls.

She was small with a head of limp wet curls plastered to her scalp and clothes that clung in interesting places.