She keeps walking. As much as she wanna trust her heart, she lacks the faith. Yet this time, she chooses to advance with her eyes close. What difference does it makes since darkness continues to linger? She thought she felt some flutters across her shoulder, along with sounds of claws scraping on her velvet. Her first thought was a bird, a mahogany sparrow with black and orange specks on its feathers. Just the size of her dollie's white teacup at home. Her eyes remained shut, not out of fear but more for comfort. She lets out a giggle, pretty amused at her own imagination. She feels like raising her fingers to her left shoulder to give a little stroke. Maybe Roe will give a little squeal, one of hope and comfort. Yes, Roe, her little new sparrow. It must has been a guardian from above, sent down frow that particular ray of moonlight that penetrated the forests and has been quietly following her. She has silently thanked god for that one source of light accompanying her. Thank god.

Her cereberal juices seem to be overflowing tonight. She continues to indulge in her timeless horizon. As much as she believes in Roe, she fears herself. Roe is real. Is she?