When her Grandfather was in a care home, Pain came to him on a white horse, gave him his dose and went to ride away.
Whilst he was leaving, he felt a tug on his cloak. A young girl, barely a teenager, though small for her age, had clung onto him. He turned his head and she looked at him with big aqua eyes and said
“Can you show me what you do?” he said nothing, and she said “Take me with you.”
Those that see Pain are curious, and often ask questions. He rarely answers, but they never ask to be taken with him. He wasn’t sure what to think.
He looked at the girl’s Grandad, wincing and squirming whilst his liver felt the runt of his disease that Pain had to accompany. He look at her parents, and her brothers, and then at her. She hadn’t looked away once. He could see she was different.
He turned his horse around and held out a long, thin hand. She smiled, and took it. He lifted her up onto the horse, gave her a cloak, and she went with him. Her parents were none the wiser. One of her brothers felt a slight breeze in the air.