>If I concentrate, I can still remember the touch of his hands on my face. Huge, rough and black, clasping my head tight, slowly squeezing. The headaches came back to me just thinking about it. But every time I'm alone, all I have to do is close my eyes or let my mind wander and suddenly I'm back there. Back on the grass, on my back, eyes shut in a desperate attempt to stay alive, to not provoke this creature further. The panic wracks my body, leaving me shaking and horrified on the floor, damp with sweat and dripping saliva.<

>Yet I saved him. Out in the rain, I saw him teleporting, stumbling about with his hands over his head, that familiar scream louder than the thunder that pursued him. I saw his flesh steaming, peeling where the rain hit the flesh. And did I wonder about whether to go out there or not? Did I stop to think about it? No. No, I did not. I almost wish I had, just so I would have some reason why I did what I did, running out in the worst storm I could remember, throwing my quilt around his dying body, hauling him back indoors, feeling him go limp.<

>Why save someone who just wants you dead? Why bother helping someone who hates you so badly? All I can do is sit by his bed, watching him groan and cry out in his sleep, and wonder if I was just the doormat everyone says I am, or if I made the right choice. When he woke, I couldn't look at him. Even with his eyes closed, I couldn't look at him. I'm still scared. He reached out and for a second I nearly froze. His hands terrify me.<

>But I saved him. But I keep taking care of him. Day in and day out, I checked his wounds, cleaned what I could, assured his friend it would all be okay. I even tried to learn his name. What am I thinking? Why am I trying?<

>And now. Now I'm in my kitchen, sitting behind the smoker, waiting for them to finish eating. And I'm staring at the opposite wall, wondering what's going on. All these questions and doubts and conflictions whirling in my mind, louder than the thunder on that eventful day. I don't know what to say to myself. I don't know what I'm doing or why or how it's going to end. I just know I'm trying to do what I can to survive...<

>I came here long ago. I was just a kid. I ran away from a home I didn't ever want to go back to. I found this world. This land. These waters and mountains and valleys. I found the sun. I found...I found friends. People who helped get me set up. People who praised me, told me I was good from the start, that I knew what I was doing. Only I didn't really. I just gathered and planted and harvested and built. All with the idea of something safer and better than what I left. Nothing more. Is that knowing what I'm doing? I had no plans beyond that.<

>Mobs were a constant problem. My friends showed me what to do with them, how they never spawned in the light, how their parts were useful. I found that skeletons were annoying but easily killed. If you could call it killing. Zombies gave themselves away by groaning and growling and they just kept coming. Creepers scared me so bad I ran when I saw one. But Endermen were fascinating. Tall and black with purple eyes, teleporting anywhere and doing nothing unless provoked. Sometimes I saw them holding a piece of dirt covered in grass. I didn't like the idea of killing them, so I just...avoided it. The others eventually stopped asking me if I had Ender eyes.<

>Time went by and I felt safe here. I don't even remember my parents much anymore. I hardly recall my school or the car my mother drove. This is all I want and this is the only home I'll ever need. Living here was easy. It didn't take much to build, to plant and grow. I'm wealthier now than I would ever have been back where I came from. It was fun. Like a game.<

>And then some Enderman walked into my house not once but several times, taking my things, rooting through my chests like no other had done before. I was intrigued. I liked the sounds he made, the way he stared at me, daring me to look at him. I never took him seriously until I was on the ground. What was I thinking? And now he's in my home....<

>I hear the piglin walking out of that room. He looks around for me, holding the dishes, unsure where to put them even though I've told him five times already. I get up. He doesn't scare me. Rolburn stood up for me. I remember what he said as I take the plates, as I pat his decaying hand. It doesn't seem so gross as it looked when I first saw him. I'm not even sure if he's in any pain.<

>He grins. "Thanks, Quinn." And goes back to the Enderman.<

>I wash up. My mind is still in a conflict and probably will be until I can grow a spine and face myself. But I don't know how or what to do. I ran from my first problems. Everything's been a game after that. This...this is an issue I can't run from. I don't know how to or where I'd go.<

>I finish. And return to my place behind the smoker. It's warm there. I start running my hands through my hair, but in that instant all that I can feel are his hands again. I jerk away.<

>I need a break from these thoughts. I can't figure them out right now; I need something else to do. Getting up, I carefully look into the room where Percy and Rolburn have been sitting all this while. The Enderman is lying back on the bed again, but this time Rolburn is curled up next to him, like a small child. I don't look at Percy's face, but I know he's watching me. I see the purple glow of his eyes fixed in my direction. I speak carefully.<

>"I'm going outside for a bit to take a walk. I'll be back this afternoon." Percy doesn't respond right away, but I need to know he understands, so I wait. After a few minutes, when I'm wondering if I used the wrong words or mixed up the verb tenses again, I see him nod his head. I return the gesture and quickly exit.<

>Outside. It's nice out there, as usual. The sun is drifting across the sky as a bright gold sphere, there isn't a cloud to be seen, birds sing in the branches of the trees and I can feel a warm breeze coming from the east. It takes me a second or two to get my mind settled before I start walking. I'm going northeast, towards Hamilton Town. That's where my friends and I get together sometimes, to trade, talk, fight or play around. Karl lives there, and I'm hoping I'll find him this time. He's a bit of a traveller and not always around, but he's also one of my best friends. Maybe, if I'm able to explain my thoughts without telling him about Percy or Rolburn, he'll be able to help me out.<

>The town is on the other side of the mountain that's beside my home, which isn't a big deal. Walking's never that hard here, except in water. At least there's a splendid view. Through the trees, past mushrooms higher than my head, until I reach the Won Pass. I named that, after we staged a battle for it and I came out on top.<

>Up there, the landscape stretches as far as I can see, with a highlight of blue sea to my left. Ahead and behind me lie the Stretched Forest, while to my right is the more open expanse Percy and Rolburn came from. I can't see much though, because the mountain blocks most of it.<

>Down the mountain I descend. What will I say to Karl once I get there? I can't let him know who I have on my house, but...there's no precedent for my current issues. I'll have to come up with something.<

>Blue, blue rivers wind past me, each conjoining further on into a large, uneven pool with little waterfalls and small islands of grassy earth. I hope across them, watching the spray leap up from where water waves smack against stone or hardened dirt. Gravel crunches beneath my feet as I reach the other side and find the yellow terracotta road that leads to Hamilton Town. And now I think I know what I'll say to Karl. It'll be a Suppose; a little guesswork and story that we talk over together. If he's there.<

>Coming out of the Stretched Forest into the town is always a bit of an experience to me. The strange sense of organization about the place, all the wooden buildings laid out exactly so, all the gardens and walkways arranged just how each person likes it. I pass by Carter's trading post; it's got more ivy than usual and I think I see an azalea flower in there too. Carter's been busy. His place is filled with barrels packed with items of varying sorts, some more useful than others.<

>I pass by more buildings, flower shops, pet stores, picnic areas, fishing supplies and products, etc. But Karl's place is on the other side of town. He's the only one who actually lives in this places; everyone else has their homes elsewhere.<

>Finally I see it: a small house built of birch wood and stone, with few windows and only a single door. I've been inside a couple times; it's a single room with a bed, a couple chests, a furnace and a smoker. He lives simple.<

>I hope he's home. My knuckles hit the wood with a few solid thunks, then I step back and wait. I really hope he's home.<

>For a while, nothing happens. The silence is broken by birdsong and a few rustling tree branches. I wonder if he's even around. If he's not...I'm honestly not wanting to go hunting for someone to talk to. I'd just rather...<

>Purple sigils sparkle to my right. And there he is, looking as rumpled and half-bewildered as ever. "Karl?"<

>He looks over at me, pale blue eyes going right through me until he realizes I'm actually there. "Oh, hi Quill!"<

>"Quinn." I correct him. It's a habit by now. I think I'd do it even if he said my name right for once. But he never does. It's the same with the others, he forgets their names, their clothes styles, their very existences occasionally. But he's still the most sensitive person I know.<

>"Oh, sorry Quinn." He grins shyly and starts shoving his book into his satchel again. I still don't know what's in that book, but one day I'd like to. The symbol on the cover looks like it could be important. "Did you need me for something?" He asks.<

>"Yeah...how much time do you have?" I shouldn't have said "time"...dang it.<

>"Time?" Karl grins again. "Nobody has time, nobody. It belongs to no one. It's spiralling through our lives like sand through our fingers. You can barely hope to catch a moment, let alone time itself."<

>Swallowing back a wince, I nod. Better do this right this time. "I need to talk to you, Karl."<

>"About what? You hungry?" He opens his door and steps inside, beckoning me to follow.<

>"I had a few thoughts I wanted to discuss." I reply, ducking slightly to pass in. Karl's shorter than me and his door is a constant source of pain. I do wish he'd fix it, but sometimes I think he even forgets his own height.<

>Karl puts his satchel up on one of the chests, then takes off his purple coat and drops it on the bed. "Like what?"<

>I hesitate. All my earlier rehearsal suddenly looks feeble. But I have to talk this out with someone. And as long as I keep my mouth shut about Percy and Rolburn, everything should be fine. "A Suppose." I answer, sitting against the wall.<

>Karl's face lights up. "I love Supposes! Alright, gimme. Let's hear it."<

>I lower my gaze. How cheerful will he be once he hears what I have to tell? "What if...sorry. Suppose there were three people, and one attacked the other. Now the first man was ready to kill the second, but the third intervened, saving the second man's life. Now suppose that later, not even that long later, the second man sees the first in life-threatening danger. Should he save him, take care of him? Or leave him be?"<

>There's a brief silence. I glance up. Karl's watching me, his head tilted to one side like he does when hearing something he doesn't remember. He narrows his eyes. "I notice you didn't mention the second man might encourage the danger."<

>I shrug. Not much to say to that. I couldn't have "encouraged" the rain, but I see what he means.<

>Running his hands through his already rumpled brown hair, Karl sits back on his bed. "Should he save the man who tried to kill him? That's what you want to know?"<

>"That's part of it."<

>"Okay." Karl frowns, staring at the opposite wall. "Well...why shouldn't he?"<

>"That's what I need to know." I answer. "I'm not sure what the right option is here."<

>"Well," Karl muses, "the nicest answer is yes, you save him. But the guy did try to kill you. Maybe you should let him follow his own fate. You couldn't be blamed for that, could you?" He eyes me. I wonder how much he can see or how much he already knows. Karl's like that. Sometimes it's like he knows libraries of things, other times it's like he's forgotten what feet were for. "What was the next bit you wanted to ask about?"<

>"If..." I hesitate. "If...he does save the man who tried to kill him...should he...shouldn't he feel..."<

>Karl leans forward, elbows on his knees. "How was the attempted murder committed?"<

>"Skull-crush." I reply, and I don't know what to feel when I realize I just said that calmly.<

>There's another span of silence. Karl watches me, making me even more nervous than I already am. Does he know I'm hiding something? I've never been good at lying....Then he sits up straighter and my eyes snap to his. "Quinn," he remarks, "you need to either make friends with whoever this is, or you need to make peace. You saved somebody who tried to kill you and now you're in a mess over it. Right?"<

>I sigh. "Yeah. I don't know what to do or how to feel about this person."<

>"Well, one thing you're going to have to do is live with your decision. If the person tries to kill you again, I think you can rest easy he wasn't worth your effort. If he doesn't, maybe he's learned something."<

>I shift my position. "He was acting in what he thought was self-defense."<

>Karl's eyes go big. "Oh." And that's it for a minute. Is he going to say anything else? Was that all he could think of? Please say something, Karl. I don't know how to answer myself, that's why I came to you.<

>He shakes his head rapidly, blinking like he just woke up from a daydream. "Self-defense, huh? Okay, so...I guess you have to work out boundaries. Like...like 'this thing is mine, don't touch without asking', or 'if I start talking about this subject, just stop me', or something like that."<

>I'm not sure what he's expecting from me. Has he ever tried this before? He makes it sound so easy, but...he's never had to sit in the same room with a person who's just waiting for the right moment to kill him. Has he? Does he have any idea what I'm going through? I look back up at him. "Karl? What if he just hates me?"<

>With a shrug that's somewhat apologetic, he replies, "No one 'just' hates, Quen. No one. Everybody has a reason, and once you find that reason, you can work something out."<

I close my eyes. "Quinn." I mutter absently as my mind goes spinning over what he's said. I don't want to talk to Percy. I really, really don't. But if that's the only thing that'll bring me peace...I get up. "Thanks for the talk, Karl."<

>He doesn't move. "There's more, isn't there?"<

>But I'm already heading for the door. I need more options. I need to be sure before going back to face those eyes. "See you around, Karl." And I shut the door.<