Stroll We walked in silence, her small hand rough and bandaged, enveloped in my large hand. She was an ugly thing when we found her, bruised and bleeding, coated with dirt from the streets. Even after a hot bath and a change of clothes, there were some things that would take more to wash away. Suddenly, she turned to me. "I've never brushed my teeth before, you know." Looking past me, she surveyed the trees with large, curious eyes, then turned in the other direction to watch the sleek river tumble by. I watched her for a moment, strangely sad, before averting my view towards the road. It was not long after I had done so when I heard her voice again. "I feel pretty." This time, when I looked down at her, she was smiling. Her teeth were yellowed and crooked, but the smile caused her eyes to squint, and her cheekbones to plumpen slightly; if she was ugly before, she was -- at least -- less so now. Laughing quietly, I squeezed her hand and replied, "And so you are." | Took the silver, took my flight... |

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