Annie woke to the sounds of Maira packing camp. The old woman said nothing to her, and Annie said nothing in return. She rose, folded her blanket and repacked her bag, and once everything was reloaded boarded the wagon without a sound. There was no need to speak.

They rode on for another hour and a half--two hours? It was hard to tell--before finally arriving at Dorhaven. Annie payed Maira the two shills as promised, and another for the food and conversation. She opened her mouth to speak as she exited the wagon but thought better of it. With a silent wave, she watched the old woman steer the cart away and drive off. Annie hoped to the gods Maira would find those she needed.

Turning back to look at the city before her, she wondered if anything had even happened. It was all quiet; no sounds could be heard at all, not even the birds sang. If she hadn't known otherwise, Annie would have thought the city was deserted. But she knew. People were in mourning. They tiptoed silently around the streets, longing for the slightest bit of comfort.

Annie closed her eyes and breathed in deep. This is gonna be a long day, I feel. Adjusting the pack on her back, she set off into the city, destination: ground zero.

The spot where the explosion had occurred was, to be blunt, not difficult to find. Especially for a seasoned reporter. Everyone in Dorhaven seemed to be looking down to the ground, averting their eyes from the towering cloud of residual smoke.

The charred remains of the tenement house was impressive in size. The hideous smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and bits of ash flew about on the wind like snowflakes.

Against an adobe wall nearby, hundreds of townspeople had left small offerings - food, clothing, small trinkets and dolls, wine. Scribbled messages to loved ones, mostly written in charcoal, adorned the wall.

Annie stopped hard in her tracks for a good five minutes or so before she even realized she was standing with her mouth open. The taste of burning coated her mouth, and she gagged a bit, bending to spit on the sidewalk at her feet. As she stood, wiping her mouth on her coat sleeve, a single tear traced down her cheek. How could they do this? These lives, these innocents...how can they sleep at night, knowing what they've done here?

Annie walked to the wall where the small offerings of rememberance had been left. Kneeling, she read a scribbled note on the wall, and shed another tear. This was a strange sensation for Annie. For the first time, she was looking at the events around her not as a reporter on the loose for a story, but as a citizen--a person who has seen first hand that which is being talked about by everybody. It made her feel sick. It made her feel sad. It made her...it made her absolutely furious beyond words.

Rising to her feet, she pulled the camera out of her pocket and snapped off a few pictures of the things left behind, and of the damage in the background. These are things others need to see, she thought. They need to know what's been done here.



*(This one's a little deeper than usual. Today's been a day for rememberance, and my heart's a little heavy for the families of those who died in the attacks on September 11, 2001. Sad to say it, but Dorhaven almost reflects that: a racist terrorist attack on innocent lives. My words reflect how I feel now, and how Annie would feel in almost the exact situation.)*

After a few more minutes of taking pictures, Annie pocketed her camera. She turned away from the rubble and looked around the streets. There had to be someone who would know something about Fion's uncle. What did she say his name was? Annie flipped back trough her notebook until she found where she'd written down his name: Sean Rankin. Unless he was in the building when it blew--gods forbid it!--he was alive and well, and someone here knew it. She just had to figure out who.

Just then, Annie felt a rumble. For just a moment, she panicked--they've done it again!--before she realized it was not a bomb. It was her stomach. She hadn't realized it was getting so late; she needed something to eat.

Annie looked around for any place that would serve food, especially to a hungry wick.

Dorhaven might as well have been a phasmonia. No business in sight was open; many buildings had been boarded up, their residents seen packing hurriedly and tripping over themselves to leave town. As far as the eye could see, there were empty streets strewn with ash and loose papers. Even the local Seventen seemed to have moved on.

Annie sighed. She'd wandered the streets for an hour, but there was no sign of life. The whole place was deserted, it seemed. Eventually she stopped moving altogether and just stood there in the middle of the street.

Why am I even here? What am I doing? What did I think I'd accomplish here? The weight of so much loss, so much destruction was too much for her, and combined with her growing hunger and lack of sleep...Annie couldn't take it.

Her arms went slack, her bag falling off her shoulders and landing behind her with a thud. She breathed a heavy sigh, then threw back her head and yelled with all her might.

"SEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!! SEAN RANKIIIIIIIN!!! WHERE ARE YOOOOOUUUUU?!"

"The bloody hell..."

Opher Parkins, the morning Seventen on duty, sighed a long and weary sigh as he spotted the woman shouting her head off. Clicking his spurs against the horny hide of his chrove, he trotted over to her and gestured with his glaive.

"This area has been cleared of residents," he said, not menacingly or disrespectfully, but with a voice full of resignation. "They've all been asked to stay in the south part of town. You won't find anybody here."

Annie looked up at the Seventen on the back of his chrove. It didn't register until later that he was, in fact, Seventen.

She sighed, and responded with a despondant "'K, thanks," before turning to trudge off.