Good Luck, Little Wanderer, Good Luck. How

You May Have Taken The Planet, But You Will Lose This Game!

I Knew I Was Too Late—and I Was Glad Something Bloodthirsty Waited In The Wings. For In Failing At This, I Forfeited Any Desire To Live.

I Used To Think Of You That Way, You Know. Like The Sun. My Personal Sun. You Balanced Out The Clouds Nicely For Me." He Sighed. "the Clouds I Can Handle. But I Can't Fight With An Eclipse.

It's Strong, Ian. The Way She Feels About You Is Something Else. She Loves This World, But So Much Of The Reason She Couldn't Leave Was Really You. She Thinks Of You As Her Anchor. You Gave Her A Reason To Finally Stay In One Place After A Lifetime Of Wandering.

How Old Are You?” She Asked. My Answer Was Automatic And Ingrained. “seventeen.” “and How Long Have You Been Seventeen?” I Tried Not To Smile At The Patronizing Tone. “a While,” I Admitted. “okay,” She Said, Abruptly Enthusiastic. She Smiled Up At Me.