It was cold. She shivered and the light rain came down in sheets from the darkened sky. Her dark hair was soaked, hanging limply below her shoulders. She scanned the darkness for anyone else that was awake but saw no movement.
The little ballerina toy clutched in her hand felt warm under his fingers. She gazed down sadly and held it out in her palm. Slowly, the toy began to spin.
It spun and spun and spun, out of control. Around and around again and a sick feeling began to wash over her. But she didn't stop it. It spun freely above her outstretched hand, around and around in quick circles.
The symbol on her hand glowed brightly, hotly, as she continued.
She couldn't breathe, think, feel. Her eyes followed the toy over and over, clouding her mind.
Her breath came out in short gasps, and she began to feel lightheaded. Around and around, faster and faster.
Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed her arm near the wrist.
The toy promptly fell uselessly to the ground.
"You okay?" She didn't even have to look up to recognize his voice. He crouched down and bore his eyes into her's worriedly.
"I'm fine," she lied, grabbing the toy back in her hand.
He nodded, swiftly standing up. "We have to get going."
She didn't answer him, only looked at him. He was frowning slightly, his dark hat shadowing his face from her view. His hand was outstretched for her to take.
Timidly, she reached out and grasped his strong hand as he pulled her up onto her feet. "Come on, kid," he joked, pulling her forward slightly to continue with their journey.