She woke up under her cloud of gloom. She wriggled under the weight of gargantuan rocks that she clawed on top of herself weeks earlier. She felt different that day. She found herself floating back to the days of sunshine, and friends, and writing. Her strangely clean hands ached for the familiar pens, markers, quills, and the glorious vats of ink that were probably dry back at the home she had fled. She frowned, wondering if they replaced her with someone new? Didn’t see she a crafty nerd making herself at home while she had been running away?

She gritted her teeth and peeked through a hole in the rubble. She almost shrieked in shock. She was staring into an achingly familiar face.

“Come back.” He whispered.

Without thinking, she dove out of the rocks, wrapping her friend in a fierce hug. When she let go, she saw he was holding a bucket of ink out for her. She dipped her hands into the glorious liquid.

“Come on. Robert and the rest are waiting for you.”

“Thank you.” Was all she said as they walked back.