Blind Ambitions (LEA)

The chattering of the crowd went on, spicy voices of excitement and bustling swirling through the air that were all-too-common with the air of the marketplace during the late afternoon. Most of the adults, busy in their affairs of haggling for a last-minute gift or buying dinner so that it would be easy to prepare come night, did not notice the small observer. Despite none of the gifts being bought for her, nor the food likely to reach her hungry stomach in the end, her eyes shone in wonder and interest. She walked on the cobblestone path with little notice of the loose pebble fragments beneath her calloused bare feet, hands tucked behind her back. Even if she had spoken, her timid, shy voice would probably go completely through one ear and out the other.

She had traveled a very long distance for such a young child, and her worn body would have shown it if anyone had bothered to notice. The dress she wore bore considerable damage from tears and weather hardships. She came to this town hoping that this may be the town containing her father, or having a clue to his whereabouts. Truthfully, she was not all too sure she could recall his face. Of course, her doubts had no real threat to them; if she caught even a glimpse of his face she would have known it was him, but being only six years old she could not really be blamed for small, discouraged feelings from time to time. What she really wanted at this point was something to eat, no matter how tasteless or small a portion.

She entertained herself as she walked by swinging her stuffed companion back and forth in one hand, adding a skip to her step. Her smile, bright and cheerful despite her lone traveling situation, told those whom did give her the decency of a glance she seemed fine, if not a little in need of a bath. Suddenly, something shimmering in a shop window caught her eye. She stopped her jolly travel to take a look through the sparkling glass, lifting her bunny over her chest, pressing him against the pane.

“You see?” she asked in a hopeful, yet excited tone. “Those ones right there! What?” She leaned in for a moment, manipulating the animal so a paw becoming slightly unstitched appeared to cover the mouth so the animal was whispering, despite the fact it had no mouth from the beginning. “No, silly! Not the thimble rack! The buttons! Don’t you think they might make good new eyes for you?” she asked him, turning her precious treasure to run a grubby finger over the bland current fading eyes. Perhaps the sun had briefly blinded him with the added glare of the clear glass window. It was a perfect day for being outside, and the sun did shine brightly. “You need new eyes. Do you have any money hidden somewhere?” she questioned, always imaginative in that way. She returned her gaze to the window and blinked once, taken by surprise.

With a quick, ripping sound somewhat unkind in itself, the shopkeeper shut the blind over the window of the sewing shop, leaving the little girl alone staring at the tan shade. “I guess they’re closed now, Bunny,” she remarked, tilting her head in naivety. “They sure close early, don’t they? All the other shops are still open. Oh well. That’s okay. Let’s keep going. We need to find someplace to stay for the night until we can look for Daddy. I know we’ll find him someday… he promised, you know. You were there. Don’t you remember?”

She hooked one of the long, rather floppy ears of the stuffed animal in her hand, continuing her walk. “I don’t forget important things. I’ll never forget Daddy. He knows I’m safe and when we find him, everything will be all better again. Mr. Pyralis won’t keep me any more when I find my Daddy. I know it will happen soon.” She noticed the shops becoming more and more oriented outdoors and questioned this, glancing up at a sign. She had never seen that word before, to her recollection. She remembered to sound it out and try to guess what it meant from there, since she was much too shy to ask anyone she didn’t know. “Pooohetrie Corner?” She looked to her bunny as if expecting him to explain and reassure her. “What is a pohetrie?”

The cornerstone of the humble town, build into the very center of it ironically, was the poetry corner. A sort of haven for people to come after a hard day’s work and listen to others recite or merely seek out quiet rest of their own, it never met an equal. The set up looked simple, yet refined in its order. Several tables and chairs were spread about on the now-smooth pavement, a flat stage lying in the nigh middle of the square for those whom dared approach and recite what they had written for other’s enjoyment. Vines with blooming pink and purple flowers wound their ways up the sides of the podium as if they were snakes, adding a pretty texture of sincere rustic beauty in the square.

“I’m a little tired,” she announced to no one in particular, walking to the side of the small corner and climbing up into a black, wired chair. It wasn’t exactly comfortable for a little girl, but it seemed to give her a place to rest for a few moments, with the smell of rich, steaming food about her. “I think we should stay here for a little bit, Bunny. It seems nice.” Before she realized it, more people arrived, filling in other seats as work just ended for most people in the town, leaving leisure time wide open for those close to the poetry corner. Soon, every chair but the one beside her held an occupant. She clapped her mouth shut and began to retreat into her shell of secrecy, heart pumping faster at the mere sight of strangers. No one would have blamed the child, after being kidnapped at only five years of age. Strangers were among one of her greatest fears. She set her stuffed animal up beside her on top of the table and leaned forward among the other adults as her stuffed animal did.

“Poetry Corner is now open for the night,” came an announcement from the speaker on top of the hollow wooden stage. “Please enjoy and relax, everyone. If you feel the impulse to share some of your work, feel more than welcome to do so.”

From her solitary perch in her chair, she watched and waited to see exactly what this pohetrie would be and if she would like it. Somewhere deep in the bowels of her stomach, she hoped for the slim chance it turned out as some exotic dish of food. However, through her relaxation attempts, she did not forget she needed to find her bunny some new eyes soon. “You’re lucky you have me here, you know,” she softly spoke among the chattering of couples at tables, “you’d be lost without me.”

No one has an appreciation for real art anymore.

The sun beat down on the back of Devin Cullen’s neck, sending sweat cascading down his skin. Taking a handkerchief from his jeans pocket, he dabbed at the perspiration. He had been sitting beneath this store awning—which did nothing to abate the heat—for at least three-fourths of the day now. The sun was beginning its descent to the west, and he knew the time had come to pack away his guitar.

With a sigh, he glanced down at his open case. Barely enough money to give the storekeeper his share just for allowing Devin to sit under the awning sparsely littered the inside. It was frustrating. He knew he had at least some talent—otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to play or sing at all. But none of the passersby seemed to think so. Or, they thought he was just some homeless bum looking for money to buy cheap beer. Half of that thought was true. He didn’t really have a home, per se. But he also had no taste for alcohol.

Devin settled his guitar—his life—into its case with the gentleness a mother would show her baby. Smiling softly, he ran a hand over the smooth wood before closing the lid and securing it shut. The money could stay in there for now. The deal with the shopkeeper had been a cut of whatever money Devin managed to collect over a three-day period. Perhaps days two and three would prove to be more profitable.

Probably not, though, he thought with a grimace.

The sun sank lower on the horizon, and he began to notice people moving en masse toward some other building nearby. Squinting, he read what the sign out front said.

“Poetry Corner?” he muttered to himself. “Well…I guess it wouldn’t hurt to take a look.”

The establishment seemed to be a popular place at sundown, and Devin wondered where all these art lovers had been earlier when he was melting. Inside was a cozy, intimate setting—perfect for poets to share their hearts. Unfortunately, by the time he entered the room, there were no more seats open. Wait. Yes, there was one. A chair sat empty beside another one holding a small girl. She was talking to a stuffed animal she was holding, as though it were an old friend.

He pushed his silver-rimmed glasses a little higher on his nose and made his way toward the empty chair. Setting his guitar case next to it, he sat and tried to not to look at anyone for fear of drawing unwanted attention.

With great reluctance, someone finally worked up enough courage to take the stage and recite some poetry he claimed to have written. Though Devin typically was not snobbish about such things, he couldn’t help but feel slight disdain for the piece. It was clumsy and not at all eloquent. It failed to conjure images or feelings in him. It was simply downright painful to listen to. And yet, everyone seated around him gave the man their rapt attention. This made Devin even more frustrated. Had they ever even heard real, beautiful poetry? He had half a mind to get on the stage himself, but his shyness kept him glued firmly in his seat. At least he knew he wouldn’t be missing anything if he didn’t show up the next two nights.

For the first few moments when she heard the slight sound of pressure in the chair next to her, she turned into a basic statue. She did not move, did not speak, and certainly tried not to breathe, though that proved more difficult than she anticipated. Finally, once the person said nothing and essentially ignored her, she decided to steal a glance. The man seemed more interested in the pohetrie than the little girl beside him. Kate took the chance of moving.

She itched. Her hand went to scratch her back while she kept a steady eye on the new visitor. The man currently on stage seemed to be singing, but the words were terrible. He failed miserably with holding any sort of tune. Kate didn't even want to listen as the other adults did, but she clapped because they did as the man started a second piece, though it was slow compared to a few others whom either didn't know what poetry was, or felt sorry for the lack of it.

This second attempt could seem even worse than the first as the man drew from his well of seemingly dry inspiration. Each word was painful. Kate managed to steal a look at the man sitting beside her again, but this time she began to take in a bit of detail. While squeezing her rabbit slightly, she managed to work her way up to his face. It was a gentle face. Kate felt a small instinct tug at her child heart telling her something good about the man. She swayed in her decision-making pattern for a moment, placing a finger to her lips. The words escaped her mouth in a small hush like the wind escaping through a crack in a wall.

No reply came. He probably didn't hear her. This time it came out as a soft, jumbled mumble, still not audible, but louder. It could be distinguished as a question by the way her voice jumped at the end. She took a tiny glance at his face and could tell that he hadn't heard her, or hadn't noticed it was her that spoke. The man on stage halted his second piece, reaching in for a third finale.

She took a deep breath, and pushed the nervous twisting of her stomach away, asking the man beside her the honest question of which she did not know the answer. "Where's the pohetrie?"

Gasps erupted among a few stunned people, mostly females. Whispers and tsking flew among them faster than an uncontrolled wildfire. "Did you hear her? Where is the poetry? The very nerve! What a rude little girl." Of course, the innocent inquisition had not meant any harm, after all she did not know what it was and only asked for a definition, not meaning any insult to the current reader. As eyes tuned upon her, she felt her face flush a little as she sank a bit in her chair.

"Did I say something wrong?"

A smile involuntarily crossed the bard’s face when the tentative question reached his ears. He was both amused by the reactions of the women around him and in awe that this small child would recognize the sheer failure of the piece. Though, after he thought about it for a moment, he knew that, being such a young age, she truly didn’t know what poetry was or what it was meant to do. However, had the man on stage been a talented poet, his words would have evoked that alive feeling within her to the point that she wouldn’t have asked her question—even if she hadn’t understood the meaning or the way the words wove together.

The whispers of the indignant women clearly affected the little girl, for she was blushing and trying to become invisible by sliding down in her chair. Her eyes were large and full of naivety as she clutched her stuffed rabbit tighter against her chest.

“Did I say something wrong?”

The women proceeded to ignore her, instead giving their attentions fully back to the man on stage who, Devin thought wryly, was probably a baker or mailman or clerk by day. At least he already had a steady source of income.

Turning his eyes completely toward the girl, he offered her a small smile and leaned down to speak quietly. A quick glance out of the corner of his eyes assured him the women wouldn’t hear anything he said.

“Would you like to hear some poetry?” He paused. “And perhaps some music, as well?”

This opened new doors of understanding for the child. So it was something you heard, maybe like a story! The words were poetry. She began to grasp a very primitive concept and her lips broke out into a smile with his reply. His tone seemed genuinely friendly towards her, so she had no reason to be anything other towards him. “Ooo…” She released a bit of her vice grip on her bunny and nodded. “I would like that very much.”

If there was one thing Kate knew better than nearly anything else in the world, it was stories. The many tales of princesses and famed knights that died for their honor rung in her mind; she loved them. Of course, she also favored them exceptionally due to the unfailing love for her father. He used to read these tales to her just before bedtime, nigh unfailingly every day of her young life. So if stories were words and poetry was words, then she was sure she would like it. Following closely among if not above stories on her scale of loved things was music, which only increased her feelings of friendliness towards the stranger. Ever since she could remember, Kate held and fostered fondly a great favor for music, especially those talented with it. She would listen to any real melody, but those who actually played she held an even higher regard for, from her point of view.

“Music and poetry…” she whispered in awe, eyes shining with a whimsical glee only found in a child. “I would really really like that very much.” She glanced towards where the man had finished his… unique way of expression and then back to him, all the while looking as excited as if she had been offered all the riches in the world. “Will you do it next?”

OoC: Sorry about the wait. ^^; I hope this is okay.

IC:

The girl’s look of wonder brought a smile to Devin’s face. It had been a long time since he had encountered anyone who wasn’t affected by the cynical climate pervading the world nowadays. He gave her a slight nod and then pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Yes. I’ll do it next. But only for you.”

The moment the man currently on stage finished, Devin leaned down to grasp the handle of his guitar case and then stood up, much to the surprise of the people in the room. He was, of course, not a regular here, and so he was not a recognizable face to the patrons. As he wove his way through the tables toward the stage, he caught glimpses of the mixed reactions he received. Some of the women, the older ones, were staring down their noses at him as if to say, “How dare this impudent youth pretend he can top the previous performance?” The few older men present were looking at him curiously, like he was an odd animal that had stumbled into their backyards. Most of the younger women’s cheeks were tinged pink, which made Devin a little uncomfortable. He did his best to avert his eyes from them. And the younger men fixed him with jealous looks, which he also tried to avoid.

Upon reaching the stage, the bard pulled a tall stool into the center of it and set his case down. He unlatched the lid and opened it with a soft smile. The moment his hands touched the instrument, everything else melted away in his mind. Right now, only the song he had decided to perform pulsed through his ears. He stood back up and sat down comfortably on the stool, his feet propped on the lowest rungs connecting the legs. Taking a moment to pluck a few cords to assure himself the guitar was both in tune and in the proper key, he scanned the room once more until his eyes came to rest on the little girl. No one else in the room mattered. As long as his song was pleasing to her, he could care less what the adults thought. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began.

While the thought of baring his soul to complete strangers should have terrified him, the first gentle notes of the intro assuaged his fears and carried him to some other place and time. The melody was not loud or upbeat—such words as poured from him did not call for speed and intensity. Instead, it was mournfully haunting, a simple and elegantly handled piece. He had given no title, for the song would speak for itself, he knew.

“Pure white innocence
Undermining all complacence
Unfurls its petals’ fragrance
Toward the moon’s glow
Newly shot by Dian’s bow
Dripping dreams on blossom snow

And all I can do
Is silently admire you

Lead me to the river
That flow of forgetfulness
In hell’s bosom
Let me drink deep
And swallow my memories of you
Untouchable, unattainable Love

The ocean’s breeze
Transfers rhythm to your leaves
You dance though your heart may freeze
Are you so blind
That you would fail to find
The traces of you inside my mind

You’re stolen from me
Though you never truly did see

Lead me to the river
That flow of forgetfulness
In hell’s bosom
Let me drink deep
And swallow my memories of you
Unreachable, unrequited Love

White turns to brown
Silk crumbles to dry dust
I no longer feel you
But you still haunt me

Lead me to the river
That flow of forgetfulness
In hell’s bosom
Let me drink deep
And swallow my memories of you
Untouchable, unattainable Love

Let me drink deep
And swallow my memories of you
Untouchable, unattainable Love”

Upon finishing, he sat there in an almost reverent silence and pushed away the thoughts of Lily that he had allowed to invade him while singing. An emptiness ached in his heart. Inhaling slowly, he lifted his head to look at the girl, hoping she had enjoyed his performance.

Through the either awed or shocked silence settling in the room, a single noise permeated the barrier- a fervant, slightly clumsy clapping from the smallest person in the room. Kate's hands flew back and forth so fast they were nearly a blur, the biggest smile on her face she had worn in weeks. The smile and uproar of applause following her was not really due to the words of the poem; Kate didn't understand most of them, anyway. But she understood the feelings it brought to her as she listened, and she found herself copying what she had seen in a few applauding instances by picking the single flower from the vase on her table and tossing it towards Devin.

A few others, especially the young women, echoed her expression of applause. She watched them and shifted down from her seat to walk to the edge of the barrier. "I really really really liked it!" she exclaimed softly, "It made me feels lots of different feelings, but I really liked the beginning. You were happy then." Though his eyes showed slight confusion towards her actions, she placed one of her barefeet on the lowest rung and heaved, pulling herself into the stool. The applause began to drone out as the audience noticed her. Kate felt her heart increase beating as a drummer would in a solo, her stomach doing flip-flops to aid mixing up the butterflies.

"Um..." her timid, soft voice stopped the rest of the clapping, people leaning forward in their seats to hear her better. "I wanna try, too... I'm gonna do a poetry, okay?"

Maybe it was the fear and sincereity in her voice, or only the fact she seemed so innocent which led the audience to respect her wishes, or perhaps only because she was with the man who previously took The Corner by storm. Either way, a small wave of nods and encouraging smiles flowed across the little room. Kate took a deep breath and began to speak.

"I'm looking for you
Are you looking for me
I wonder sometimes
My heart hurts
When I think of you

I hope I find you
Maybe someday I will
I think of you lots
My heart hurts

Why haven't you found me
I've tried to find you
Where are you
Aren't you looking for me

I'll keep looking
No matter what happens
Because I love you
And I'll always love you
Daddy"

Now she tilted her head slightly at Devin, a small smile on her face. She ignored the silence of the room. "Is... is that right?"

Devin’s eyes widened when the little girl was suddenly sitting in his lap. At first, he didn’t know what to do, but soon, he found himself lowering his guitar—albeit very carefully—to the floor beside the stool so that it leaned upright against the legs. Then, he made sure the girl wouldn’t fall out of his lap, holding her securely in his arms. He noticed several of the young women shooting almost viciously envious looks at her, but the girl either didn’t see them or she wasn’t letting them bother her.

"Um... I wanna try, too... I'm gonna do a poetry, okay?" The applause and murmurs of approval died down at her words. Devin didn’t know what was going on in the audience’s collective mind, but he was finding himself more and more intrigued by this girl. He smiled and nodded at her in as encouraging a manner as he could.

Her words were simple and child-like, and though it was because she was, of course, a child, Devin was more interested in the way they flowed innocently out of her mouth. There was a longing in them but not a hopeless one. She was so sincere in expressing her feelings that it didn’t matter how big her vocabulary was or how she ordered her words. There was no set structure or rhythm or rhyme, but the poem still accomplished what every good poem should. Unlike the first man’s train-wreck of an attempt, the girl’s impromptu poem was filled with pure and real emotion.

She finished and glanced up at him. “Is... is that right?”

The patrons in the room began muttering then—a low humming sound that Devin knew was probably not favorable. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Yes. I wouldn’t change a thing about it.” He paused for a moment. “What is your name? And are you really alone?”

She replied with a slight smile, as quiet as he had been. "I'm Kate. Except when I'm in trouble. Then I'm Katherine." She seemed to be aware of the sound, which was slowly building like a swarm of angered bees. "I'm not really alone." She pointed towards the table where they had previously met. "I have Bunny with me all the time." The mumurs were growing, and Kate began to feel slightly threatened and unhappy by them.

Though the crowd didn't notice, a thin layer of smoke had appeared in a dark corner of the room. Kate seemed to be the only one to see it, and urgently, she pulled on Devin's arm a little. "Can we go?" she asked. She normally might have just left, but she liked this man and he was kind to her. She really didn't want anything bad to happen to him. "Please?" It wouldn't be long now before something bad happened, she just knew it. The smoke always signaled the soon arrival of the puppies, and everyone was scared of them.

The pulling strength frmo her increased as she saw the light layer of smoke thicken a bit more. Master was not happy with something. She had to think fast, and her panic level began to rise. She suddenly realized she felt rather warm. No! She didn't want to burn him! She tried to calm herself, blinking back a few tears. "We have to go!" she exclaimed again, taking his hand in her own and shifting off his lap.

A low, angry growl suddenly echoed in the small building, and a scream from a man, though it sounded like a woman. "What the hell is that?" He was, of course, half-right to answering his own question as the sleek, ill-fed sight of a hell hound's body entered the premises. The skin appeared as nothing but paper covering the bones in places, the ribs visible on the outside of the dark fur. Black, empty pupils scoured the room in a swift movement as the cruel lip of the animal curled back, allowing a small pool of drool to escape its mouth. From that moment on, pandemonium escaped. People scrambled for the exit as the hounds did what they did best. Kate felt trapped in the sea of fear, pushed back and forth, but escaping much of it due to her size and stature. She was not so certain about her friend.

She managed to squeeze out of the group to snatch her bunny, but when she came upon the spot, he was gone. Horror filled her body. She had to find him! A snarl from a smaller hell hound brought her back to reality. Promising herself she would find her precious item, she returned back into the mob for the safety in numbers factor and to check on the man that had showed her kindness. The crowd began to thin out, but she couldn't see him. She did see something else that caught her interest even more. Throughout all the panic, Kate spotted a person with something she recognized heading towards a pawn shop- she followed him.

Tucked under his arm, perhaps because he was desperate to make a little money, the man held two items, and both Kate watched him sell to the broker. The shop was not far from The Corner, thankfully, and now all Kate had to do was find the man she was friends with. Surely he could buy her Bunny back for her.

The hushed murmuring of the crowd had been replaced by strident screaming, from ladies and gentlemen alike.

One minute, Kate had been smiling happily in his lap, and the next, a look of terror had crossed her face. She kept tugging at him insistently, trying to tell him they needed to leave. He hadn’t understood why she was so adamant about quitting the Poetry Corner, but now, with the jaws of Hell itself having opened, it was clear to him. But why had she known something like this was about to happen?

Before he knew it, she slipped out of his lap and squirmed into the crowd. “Kate!” he called out, but there was no way she would hear him above the din. The mass of confusion had not quite reached him yet, so he hopped off the stool, swept up his guitar, and hurriedly replaced it within the case. Just as he straightened to his full height once more, creatures materialized out of the suffocating smoke.

They were hounds of flame—like something out of Dante or Faust. Jet black fur stretched tautly over their skeletal frames and ended in pure fire burning at their four paws. Horns protruded out of their heads, further evoking a sense of the infernal. And they were large, all three of them, but the one in the middle was particularly huge as it stood there flanked by its two smaller brethren. The picture was reminiscent of a mother bear with her two cubs, but all three of the beasts appeared more than capable of defending themselves.

“What the hell is that?” a man from somewhere within the crowd exclaimed.

He was the first to die.

Before the drool from the hound’s mouth had reached the floorboards, the dog was ripping into human flesh, seeking to satiate its obvious hunger. People scrambled in a raging tide of panic. Devin’s eyes widened at the sight, and his first instinct was to bolt for the nearest exit.

No! Where’s Kate?

He scanned the mass of human bodies in vain. She was much too small for him to pick out just by standing on the stage. Against his better judgment, he grasped his guitar case tightly and plunged headlong into the crowd, yelling the little girl’s name over and over. But the roar of the demonic dogs and the screams of the adults around him hopelessly drowned out his attempts to locate the girl.

I have to get out of here! Maybe she managed to slip away. I hope so...

He turned toward what he hoped was the door only to be greeted by someone’s hand colliding with his face. The impact sent his glasses flying. Now, everything was a blur—a jumble of light and dark shapes seething in his vision that meant nothing to him. What he could make out was the rectangle of flickering light he knew had to be the door. Still with his grasp firm on the case’s handle, he managed to shove his way toward the door, hoping fervently that he would have enough luck not to run into one of those hell hounds.

The gentle brush of the night wind told him he had attained the outside. Unfortunately, because of the darkness lit only by the celestial bodies overhead and the occasional torch, what little vision he had was further impaired. Fumbling his way toward the wall of a nearby building—a comfortable distance away from the Poetry Corner—he leaned his head back and closed his eyes in frustration. He would wait until the panic died down before venturing back inside to search for his glasses. Meanwhile, all he could do was hope someone hadn’t crushed them in the confusion.

Kate returned, but saw nothing when she entered the ghost of the Corner, sighing softly. Her friend wasn't here, then. She hadn't even known his name. Who would- she stopped in her tracks. There, against the building, leaned a person she thought looked familiar, even in the dark. "Hello?" she asked, getting closer.

Her face lit up into a bright smile as she recognized him. "HI!" she exclaimed, overjoyed he was okay. "Hey, hey! I was looking for you, but I couldn't find you! You're okay, I'm so glad, because those puppies are so scary, but I knew you'd be okay! I hoped so much and I found you!" she chatted away as she put her hands behind his back. "Anyway, I am so glad you're okay and I hope nobody else was hurt, but I think the puppies are gone now."

She paused, her eyebrows lowering a bit as she tilted her head. "Hey... you look a little different. Is something different about you?"

OoC: And...a quick post for you, seester. <3 See you when I get back from vacation.

IC:

He heard her familiar voice as her blurred outline rushed toward him. Her tiny hands on his back gave him a small amount of comfort. She was fine. She had escaped the hell in the Poetry Corner. This knowledge filled him with an enormous sense of relief and made his new predicament much more bearable.

He rested a hand on her head and looked down at her, even though the details of her face at this moment were a mystery to him. "Someone knocked my glasses away from me in the middle of all the confusion. I...I can't see very well at all without them, and I don't know what I'm going to do now."

"Hm... glasses..." The wheels in the girl's mind began turning. "Oh! I saw some sparkly glasses with my bunny! In the pawn shop near here! The guy took them there and I thought you could buy my bunny from them... I don't..." Her head sagged a little. "I don't have any money."

"The pawn shop?"

"Oh, you can't see!" Kate exclaimed, watching him squint, but obviously not doing much good. "I'll show you." She took his hand in her own, gentle, but yet completely firm in her leadership. "Let me lead you there." It was a simple gesture, but the intention behind it could not have been more pure. She