It's kind of strange, walking along with- oh, wait. I should probably cover that first. So Allen built a house- in his first life, that is. So he escaped for a while, but then he got captured again. During his few days of freedom, he built The Hideout. That's what he calls it. Anyway, once we get there, we're going to make a plan, rest, and just kind of get settled into our new lives. But I just strayed off topic, so let's rewind.

It's kind of strange, walking along with a five year old who delights in every completely normal thing we pass.

"A hill!" Shawn screams in delight. I automatically look behind us, scared someone will have heard. No one to be seen. "A twig! The sky!" Shawn continues happily. "Fred, we're gonna-"

"Fred?" I interupt.

"Yeah, Wive. Fred the twig. Duh!" Shawn says, waving the twig in my face.

"Oh, Fred the twig. Right. Gotcha."

"No, Wive, you don't got me. NO ONE'S GOT ME ANYMORE!" Shawn yells, and he runs ahead a couple of yards.

Now, I can't be unfair to Shawn. Walking alongside a body that was dead a hour ago is plenty weird, too. How long has that body been buried? How old does that make Allen? I decide to ask.

"Allen, how old are you?" I ask him. He stares at me oddly.

"Well, I was 14 when I died. My body was buried for 31 years, and I've been alive again for about one hour. So either 14, 31, or 0."

"Okay then." I say with a nod. Is Allen ancient? Or is he infant? Maybe he's a teen. I think of him as a teen. Allen has a athlete's body, and he looks like he's 14. He's got tan hair. It looks so much different from my black, wild locks.

Allen's new mouth (well, he's always had a mouth, but this one moves. And he can feel it.) is a new toy for him.

"Buh. Buh, buh, buh." Allen says happily.

"Allen, what are you doing?" I ask.

"Well, the way the letter B makes my mouth move is... well, it's beautiful. Astounding, even. Although, the letter R is quite fascinating as well," Allen muses. I roll my eyes. So now all I've got is a zombie who's in love with the alphabet, a five year old who delights in every blade of grass we step on, and a stick named Fred. Lovely.

I can't wait to sleep at The Hideout. I have enjoyed every second away from the nerds, one, because they're murderers, and two, because thinking about them reminds me that I might be one too, but walking for- what, an hour?- has made me very tired. I haven't slept since... well, I guess right after I went all evil and stuff, but that doesn't count. So, the last time I slept other than that was the night before the escape. I yawn. It seems like a week ago, that night. I was still captive, with no hope of escape that night. Oh, how things have changed since then.

"There. You see it?" Allen asks. In the distance, a dark wooden house stands. Near it is a river. I think Allen said he named it Mercy. The Mercy river has a nice ring to it. The house looks old and dark. I feel a bit spooked, but I don't want to sound like a coward. I don't have to.

"Fred doesn't like this. He says it's dark and bad. He says it's not safe," Shawn whimpers.

"Well, tell Fred not to be scared. Tell him it's just a house. Tell him it's Mr. Fly-y's old home, so nothing bad is there." I reply gently. I get a death glare from Allen for the Mr. Fly-y comment, and then he joins the conversation.

"Uh, Wrive? I think 'Fred' is right. Stay close." I gulp, and Shawn is scared to death, I'm sure. The grass here gets no complements from Shawn.

We get onto the porch. Allen takes a sword out of his belt.

"This is Mareth. She's yours to keep," Allen says.

"Mareth?" I ask. "Sounds girly."

"It means death," Allen explains, trying to look into the house through the grimy windows. I take a moment to examine Mareth. She's about two, maybe three feet long. She has an iron handle with Mareth written on it. A long, sharp blade cuts out of the handle. I hope Mareth isn't a sign. I hope not. A blade is a good weapon. Quick, reliable, and strong. And I'm in control of this blade. The blade has no power over me. This time, I'll fight, not some evil force in my body.

Allen is looking to Mercy.
"You gave me water. You gave me fish. And you gave me freedom, even if it didn't last. Today, I'm back. I ask that you give me freedom forever. And victory for me." He takes a breath, and I can see that he's scared too. He nods at me and I nod back. And then Allen walks past me and opens the door.