The snow seemed to be the only thing I could see as, at just five years old, I stumbled along down a side street.

I was scared, though not as afraid as when the Russians had tortured me. That fear was different. Then, I'd been confused, wondering why that was happening to me and what else they were going to do. As I made my way down the street, I only felt lost. I was too afraid of not knowing where I had ended up to worry if somebody was out to hurt me.

I was getting better at English, but any words of English on the street signs were too long and confusing for me to figure out. Most of the signs were also written in a different language, one I couldn't understand at all.

The only sign I could really remember was at the entrance of the train station, and I still wasn't sure I had understood what it said.

It used to get cold in the winters in Sweden, so I was sort of used to the weather. At home, though, I would have had a much heavier coat which, before my parents died, I would complain about wearing. Now, I was walking around in a much thinner jacket than I was used to, and the chill was going straight through to my bones.

I couldn't stop shivering, and I was really hungry. I didn't have any money, though, so the only way I could get food was to steal it, and that seemed even scarier to me. Everyone on the streets was taller or looked meaner than I was, and I had no idea what I was going to do.

I wondered if this city had Inhumanes.

They were always on the news, and I had seen them in Stockholm once or twice before one of my parents carried me away from them.

I knew that if one found me, it would hurt me, because that was what Inhumanes did. I couldn't really fight, and I doubted I could use my talent to keep one away from me for long.

I was lucky for a while.

I ran through as many streets as I could, looking for something I could read well enough to find out where I was or what to do next. Eventually I wound up in a small alleyway where the snow hadn't been cleared away from the pavement yet. I couldn't stop shivering, and it was beginning to get dark, so I decided to give up. I would look around more in the morning, when I wasn't so cold or so tired and maybe I would be less afraid.

I had only been sitting down for a few minutes, but I was beginning to fall asleep when I heard the noise. Someone was crunching through the snow behind me, getting a little closer with each second.

Turning around, I stared up at three Inhumanes, suddenly even more lost and afraid than before.

All of them were watching me, like if I started to run they wouldn't stop to think before following me. It took all my concentration to try and throw them against the alley wall, but nothing seemed to work. Finally, I allowed myself to go back to that day almost three months before when that Russian was about to shoot me, let myself remember how he was holding the gun to my head in one second and laying in the grass the next.

Get away from me. I don't want to die.

The closest Inhumane was almost near enough to touch me when my talent finally did its job, slamming all three of them against the wall. I stood up, imagining that the Russians were behind me instead of those Inhumanes.

If they caught me, they would torture me, kill me.

My feet slipped in the snow as I ran for my life, forgetting to pay attention to the turns as I ended up going down several alleys that all looked the same. I had just turned another corner when I tripped, finally noticing the tears on my cheeks as I looked up to see the Inhumanes standing over me.

I was going to die, just like my parents.

Would I see them again?

I could hear more crunching in the snow, then someone shouting. The word was one I couldn't understand, spoken in a language that was over my head. A second girl answered the first, and someone's footsteps got closer.

There was a thumping sound, and one of the Inhumanes hit the ground, nearly falling on top of me as I caught a glimpse of the knife in the back of its head. The other two both ended up on the ground a few seconds later, and I found myself staring up at two girls who had to be sisters.

The taller one was glaring, her light brown hair falling across her face as she kept looking down at me. The younger girl was only a little shorter than the first. I could tell that she was only about twelve or thirteen, but something about the circles under her eyes made her look much older.

Even though the Inhumanes weren't a threat anymore, I was still crying. For some reason, I couldn't make myself calm down, some hidden instinct telling me that all strangers were bad and that I needed to get up and run as fast as I could.

The older girl took me in, snapping something at me in a way that made me think she was asking a question. I didn't understand the language, and I scrambled away through the snow on my hands and knees, too scared to stay there but afraid enough to know that if I stood up my legs wouldn't hold me.

She could have asked me anything, really, and I wouldn't have known.

She yelled at me, stepping quickly toward me and reaching for my arm. In the next second, she was practically flying across the alley, slamming against the far wall after being carried by the air.

The younger sister rolled her eyes, glancing over her shoulder at the first girl as though she had known that would happen.

"She doesn't understand you, Milena, and she's terrified of you."

Milena got to her feet, one hand going to the back of her head as she stared at me. She looked a little scared now, like she wasn't sure what I was going to do next. Her sister seemed much braver, stepping closer to me as I stayed frozen to the spot. I couldn't run now. They would find a way to corner me.

The younger sister sat in front of me, her fingers curling around my chin and forcing me to look at her.

"We won't hurt you." She told me, "Don't be afraid."

~*~

Everything seems to hurt, and after a few seconds I give up on trying to move. It feels as though I've been run over by the biggest vehicle known to man, and no matter how hard I try I can't open my eyes. Somehow, even with my eyes shut, the tears keep streaming down my cheeks. They're cool against my skin, though crying makes everything hurt ten times more.

It takes me a minute or so longer to figure out that I'm in a bed, for everything that happened with Alessa to come back to me.

Someone shuffles across the floor nearby, coming closer with every moment until I hear the bed creak slightly. A hand moves to my forehead, brushing away several pieces of hair as I try to keep from whimpering in pain.

I want to sleep again, want all this to stop.

"Don't be afraid."

I recognize Shemik's voice almost immediately.

"Alessa-" I gasp, grimacing at how sore my throat is.

"I know." Shemik sighs, "She can't hurt you anymore, though."

I open one eye, staring at her before looking around the small bedroom. It looks like the middle of the afternoon, because the room is full of sunlight.

I look to Shemik again, hoping she can't tell how awful I actually feel.

Where's everyone?

I think the question as forcefully as I can, deciding against trying to speak again. I can tell she's reading my mind, because the look on her face says she can't decide whether or not I can handle hearing the truth.

"They're downtown."

Why?

I try again to move, and this time I can't hide the hiss of pain.

Shemik frowns at me, but doesn't comment.

"Alessa is ..." She stares up at the ceiling, then looks back at me.

Even her name seems to frighten me, and now I can't stop imagining what it is that Alessa could be up to. What is she doing that's taken Lili, Jason, Emilio, Dimitri, and Theo away from wherever we're staying?

"Alessa is being executed. Someone had to stay with you and ... I couldn't make myself go so the apothecary let me stay."

I flinch, then groan at the pain that follows.

Executed? That means she must have actually killed someone. Stealing and killing will get you executed, but no one seems to care if you only try to murder someone.

As long as the person didn't finish what they started, people don't really consider it a huge crime anymore.

What did she do? Who did she kill?

Shemik doesn't answer, and I'm beginning to feel too tired to care. She is holding my hand, and I can't decide if it's meant to make her or me feel better about everything that's going on.

Alessa was a bad person, but she didn't deserve this. She was still only a teenager; there was time for her to change.

She had changed, though, I tell myself. She couldn't have been so evil as a little kid, and that had to have changed even more when she was bitten. She was crazy, and there wasn't anything anyone could do.

Before I can think about Alessa or anything else for too long, I find myself falling asleep again.