"Is this okay, Father?"

Lisa's father turned to look at the gingerbread house. "Oh, that' nice. A bit Edwardian, is it?"

He gave Lisa one of his smiles that made her always a bit unsure if he was making fun of her. Not that she really minded.

"The roof is a bit slanted," she pointed out.

She had had trouble gluing them together with the boiling sugar. This was the first year she was doing it all on her own, with her dad just sitting in the corner of the kitchen, keeping an eye on it.

"Ah, but here's the trick!" Her father smiled. "We make icing, and use it to cover all the flaws. Works every time."

He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially: "An architect's secret. Don't tell my employers."

Lisa giggled. "I won't!"

Lisa sniffs the air. She can't sense anyone. Slowly, she approaches the big house, aware of the noises the chains she is dragging behind her are making.

She has mostly stayed away from the big building, but she is starting to get hungry, and has been lured in by the scent of food.

The smell of something familiar draws her closer and she opens the door and sneaks into the room that has the scent of bad men all over it. But it's warm and nice, and deserted so she slips in through the window.

She can't remember what they are called, but the little flat bread-things on the table smell different from the little flat bread-things she usually finds.

Her almost non-existent lips contort into something like a smile behind her borrowed faces at the shapes of these little things.

A star!

The star disappears under her mask. Star gone.

The taste is familiar. And some of them are shaped like animals. She lifts one.

There is a vague memory of Mother telling her they say 'oink!'

The oinkers are wide and rectangle-shaped, and with some support an oinker soon stands up on the table.

It reminds her of something.

She takes another oinker and puts it next to the other one. One oinker, two oinkers.

She takes a third one, and carefully lays it on top of the two.

And with that, the animals have turned into a house.

She giggles at the idea of animals turning into houses. And the roof is slanted...

She takes another one, this time a star, and slowly, carefully sets it down on the roof.

There should be a star, on the sky so people see it and follow it-

And the whole thing collapses, and the pieces slide onto the table.

She stares at it. It's all gone.

With an angry yell, she crushes the remains under her shackles.

How dares the house not be fine?

She screams again, more at the idea and the vague memory of happiness. For a moment there she almost remembered something. But now it's all gone, and she's just left with the feeling of loss.

Then she is back to her senses. No screaming, it's not safe.

She listens, but no one heard her.

She leaves the food on the table and escapes the building, back to her safe place.

Eager to leave those memories behind.

As she curls up on her nest, she whispers "Father..."

But can't quite remember what it means.