The First Rebellion

With soft footfalls, Raz walked away from Kayla's home.  He'd finished dropping off his nightly flowers, so now he was free to take care of some business of his own.  The streets were deserted, puddles glowing eerily from the soft lamplight.

After several minutes of walking, he stopped.  With an irritated sigh, he said, "Stop following me, Lily."

He turned around and saw the small girl standing sheepishly behind him.  She looked up at him with a small grin and clutched her hands in front of her.  

"Go home."

"I want to help," she said, dropping her hands so they fell in fists at her side.  "I've helped you lots of times, Scarecrow."

"This is different.  This has the potential to be very dangerous."  Today wasn't an ordinary sneak-in-sneak-out mission.  He'd been taking care of petty crooks for almost a year now, and tonight he intended to find out just how deep this twisted rabbit hole went.

"I'm not scared," Lily said, walking closer.  "I can help you!"  As if to demonstrate, she waved her hand and the water from one of the puddles rose before his eyes.  Er, buttons.  She swirled the water around her, saying, "You need me.  I'm your sidekick!"

"No."

"But-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Raz reached down and grabbed her around the waist and, without a word, threw her over his shoulder.  For a moment Lily was still, frozen in shock as Raz began to walk.  Half a minute later, however-

"Let me go!"  Her balled up fists pounded his back.  "Put me down you big meanie!"

Raz ignored her protests and carried her through the streets.  In no time at all they reached Lily's house, where he finally deposited her on the doorstep.  With one hand on her shoulder, he reached up and knocked on the door with the other.  

"Yes?" An older naiad answered the door, then looked with surprise down at Lily.  "Lily?  What's going on?"

"Please forgive me, sir," Raz said.  "Your daughter is trying to follow me on a rather dangerous mission.  I would be much obliged if you kept her locked in her bedroom this evening."

Lily crossed her arms in a huff and pouted.  "I just wanna help..."

"Lily," her father said, giving her a stern look.  "What did I say about tagging along with your scarecrow friend?"

She mumbled, "Come home if it might be dangerous..."

"Go to your room," he said, pointing to the staircase across from the book shop.  "And I will be coming in to check to make sure you aren't sneaking out."

"Yes, Dad," she grumbled, stomping across the room.

"Sorry about that," her father said, turning to Raz.  "She's entirely too spunky, just like her mother."

"I'm sorry for endangering her," Raz said.

"Are you kidding?" the man said.  "You're the one who saved her life more than once!  I can never thank you enough.  It isn't your fault that she tries to run after you.  She really is just trying to help..."

Raz nodded.  "I know."  He shifted on his feet and looked over his shoulder.  "I... have to go."

"Right, right, sorry to hold you up.  Good luck with whatever your mission is.  You don't have to worry about Lily tonight."

"Thank you."  With no more formalities, Raz turned and left.  Talking to Lily's father bothered him a bit.  He supposed it was envy.  The man had what Raz couldn't: a relationship with his daughter.  Raz wondered what Rose would be like when she was older.  Would she be like Lily?  Would she have Kayla's kind heart and energetic spunk?  All he knew was that if it was Kayla raising the child, he didn't have to worry too much.  With influence from Kayla, Rose would invariably turn out wonderful.

It wasn't a long walk to the warehouse district.  For the most part he followed the river, and the whole way he kept peeking over his shoulder to see if Lily managed to sneak out.  Her father had promised to keep her in her room, but he knew Lily and nothing like being grounded would keep her in the house when she didn't want to be.  So far, though, she hadn't turned up.

When he reached the heart of the warehouse district, every sense went on alert.  He tightened his grip on his staff, ready to use it at a moment's notice.  There was no telling how many of these old buildings still stored legitimate goods, and how many had been taken over by gangs.  The street was long and deserted, but he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of movement.  

And then, he saw it.  A light at the end of the street, accompanied by muffled voices.  He slunk to the nearest building and crept along the wall, darting between the shadows.  When he was close enough, he spotted a couple of grungy men sitting on crates in front of a warehouse, the door open and letting orange light filter out on the street.  There were two men, cigarettes hanging from their mouths, and they laughed loudly at each other's crude jokes.  

Was this what he had been looking for?  In any case, this hardly looked like a legal establishment.  It couldn't hurt to check it out.

He crept forward, keeping a close eye on the men sitting outside.  They hadn't noticed him yet, but there was no way he'd be able to get in the door without taking them out first.  He crept up slowly behind the first one.

The one facing him suddenly dropped his cigarette with surprise and pointed, and the man Raz was right in front of whirled around.  Raz was too fast, though, and he brought his staff around and slammed him in the face.  

"Hey!  Whoa!" The other said, jumping to his feet and pulling out a gun.

Bullets, though, were at worst an annoyance to Raz so he charged forward and spun his staff around again, barely avoiding a bullet that flew past his shoulder.  He knocked the man in the ribs and once he was down, slammed his staff down on his head.

Both men were out cold, if not dead.  He suspected the former, though.  His task accomplished, Raz headed into the building.  

His first thought was that he was in a very large room.  The main portion of the warehouse stretched out before him all the way to the far wall, filled with rows upon rows of crate-shaped things under blankets.  He paused in the entrance, wondering what to do next.  In the far right corner he spotted a staircase leading down to a basement level, and wondered if there were identical rooms buried deep in the earth.  

No use standing around, though.  He walked up to the very first object and pulled the sheet away.  

He stared for a second at a young boy looking up at him with fear from within an iron cage.  The boy had curly brown hair with curving horns poking out from behind his ears, and below his waist were furry goat legs.  Raz felt anger welling up in his chest and flashed back to a year ago when he'd found Lily in a similar situation.  Was this entire warehouse full of captives like this?  That was... sick.  

"Don't be scared," he grunted, kneeling and pulling a feather from his hat.  "I'm going to get you out of here."

The boy nodded while Raz poked the shaft of his feather into the lock.  He fiddled around with it for a few seconds, then it snapped open and he caught it before it could clatter on the floor.  The door of the cage swung open and the boy crawled out.


"Th-thank you, mister," he said.
Raz just nodded.  "Go on, run.  Get home."

He nodded and took off, and Raz turned to the next.  He grabbed the cloths covering them and unveiled a row of prisoners.  Most looked young, the oldest in her mid-teens.  All of them were mythsiders, and all of them looked terrified.  

Without a word, he set to work releasing them.  Some of the older ones wanted to stay and help the others, but Raz refused and forced them to run away.  He didn't have time to worry about someone else walking around in this warehouse.  He just needed to get as many of these captives out as he could before he was caught.  

After fifteen minutes of work, he had released one whole row and moved on to the next.  By now the warehouse was filled with the rush of whispers running throughout as captives passed the news from cage to cage.  Raz wished they would shut up, because any noise could attract guards.

He watched a young centaur gallop away and started to work on freeing a clurichaun.  He fiddled with the lock and had just about gotten it undone when a firm voice said, "Freeze, scarecrow."

Raz stopped, then jerked his head around to see three gangsters pointing guns at him.  Hmph, they were still trying to take him down with bullets?  He'd just take care of these guys and then go back to the rest of the prisoners.

He charged at the gangsters, ignoring one of the bullets that him in the gut.  He reached the group and prepared to attack, striking the first in the ribs.  He flew back against the wall, and a second one tried to sneak up behind him to whack him in the head with the grip of his gun.  Ah, so they'd finally figured out that bullets weren't particularly troubling to him.  The gun smashed into his neck and he stumbled, but used his staff to catch his balance and spun around to hit the guy.  

Just when he turned around, he saw a flash of light from the corner of his eye and shifted his head to see the third man dropping a lighter.  In his hand was a metal pipe with an oil-drenched rag wrapped around the end, burning fiercely.
  
Raz backed up as the man with the torch came closer.  "Don't move, straw-man."

Raz hesitated, trying to figure out his next move.  The gangster waved the torch in his face with a smirk, and Raz felt crushing defeat that they'd finally figured out his weakness.  If just one part of him caught on fire, the flames wouldn't take long to consume all his fluff and straw, and what would he be then?  Would he still have a consciousness without a body, or would that result in his death once and for all?

The first man he'd struck was back on his feet, clutching his chest.  "Let's take him to the boss.  I think the Tin Man would like a word with our little vigilante."

Raz glared at them with all the hatred he could express with nothing but buttons.  His staff clattered against the floor, resounding his defeat.  It was funny, in a weird way, that now in this body he could take a bullet to the chest and pass it off as an inconvenience, but a little cigarette lighter could force him into surrender.  He supposed every situation had its pros and cons.  

One of them grabbed his staff before they led him downstairs into the shoddily lit labyrinth of corridors below the warehouse proper.  He carefully remembered every twist and turn, so that if – no, definitely when – he made his escape he'd be able to find his way out.  

At long last, they opened a door at the very end of the final corridor.  The room itself was dark as pitch, but he got the sense of a large number of people milling around.  In the middle of the room was a table, illuminated by a single bare bulb dangling from the ceiling.  In the middle of the table was... a plate of scones?  

Raz wondered if perhaps they had entered the wrong room by mistake, but then a blue light gleamed from the darkness on the other side of the table and an almost mechanical voice said, "Ah.  So you've caught the rat.  Take a seat, Scarecrow.  I'm sure we have much to talk about."

The gangsters behind him pushed him forward, and Raz reluctantly sat down in the creaky wooden chair.  All his senses were on edge and he tried to make out the shapes of the people in the darkness beyond the narrow circle of light.  It was impossible, though.  Even though the man on the other side of the table was only a few feet away, all Raz could make out of him was a single glowing blue light in the place of an eye and the gleam of light reflecting off metal on his face.  The rest of the room's occupants were nothing but hazy silhouettes.

"Now then," the man opposite him said, his voice oozing high-society luxury.  "I am known as the Tin Man.  I am one of the most powerful people in this city, but for the last year or so a number of my wares have been systematically stolen.  I remember getting a report about a straw man from that old factory a year ago... you stole female naiad from me.  Can I assume that you have also been the one behind all the other thefts?"

Raz gazed stonily at where he supposed the Tin Man's eyes were, based on the blue light.  Though he was disgusted at the idea of considering people property to be stolen, he knew there was no point in arguing the morals behind Tin Man's operation at the time.  There was also no point in trying to deny his involvement.  "Yes."

"I see," Tin Man said, and Raz caught a flash of movement as he shifted his arm to stroke his chin.  "What is your name?"

"Scarecrow," he said simply.

"There must be more to it than that."

"No."

Tin Man spoke in a calculated, even voice.  "Very well, then, Scarecrow..."

Raz watched back, shifting in his seat.  He watched a pale hand reach forward out of the shadows and take a scone off the plate, and then retract back towards his face.  A few seconds later, the Tin Man said, "What interest do you have in my stock?"

Raz was struggling to keep his cool in the face of his enemy referring to living people as property.  "There is none," he answered as calmly as he could.

"So if I were to request that you cease and desist immediately and return the beings you have stolen from me?"

"I would politely decline."

"Where did you come from?"

"A field."

"Which field?"

Raz supposed the Tin Man was trying to find a correlation between Raz and the prisoners.  After all, to a man like the Tin Man, risking your own life to save people that had no personal meaning to you must seem pretty incomprehensible.  All Raz said, though, was, "A field beyond the walls of the City."

Tin Man continued the question game, his voice even and level.  His hand snaked out once again and picked up another scone.

"Are you here under someone's orders?"

"No."

"Does anybody else know that you are here?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"People."

"You are not being very informative, Mr. Scarecrow."

Raz didn't answer.

"I am merely curious as to why a man made of straw would give a damn about random creatures you've never met them before.  You don't owe them anything... why?"

Raz curled his fingers into a tight fist.  "Because there is more to humanity then merely being made of flesh and blood."

"...You consider yourself human?"

Raz had not counted on that question.  In fact, he wasn't entirely sure how to answer it but now was not the time to ponder such questions as the nature of humanity.  To be safe, he didn't speak.

Tin Man's chair creaked as he leaned forward slightly.  "Do answer, Mr. Scarecrow.  I am curious.  Do you consider yourself human?  Why?  Why would a sack of straw think he was human?  Unless... there is more to your story than you are willing to tell?"

Tin Man was brushing around subjects entirely too close to home.  They had reached a conflict they'd be unable to compromise, though.  Tin Man wanted to know all about Raz's history so as to better defend himself against Raz or the threat of more like him in the future.  And Raz wanted the Tin Man to know absolutely nothing.  There was not a large amount of wiggle room between their two positions.

"As long as you are in my domain, you will acquiesce to my demands."

Raz responded with silence.

"I see.  That is how you wish it to be, then?"

If buttons were capable of narrowing in determination and anger, then Raz's eyes would be doing that.  

"Raven, if you would kindly assist me?"

Raz shifted his neck slightly to see a young woman emerge from the shadows.  She had a smile on her face that sent a metaphorical shiver down his metaphorical spine.  Her long dress was the colour of dried blood and her inky hair framed her pale face.  He caught himself staring into her eyes, which lacked whites and resembled chunks of coal shoved into empty sockets.  As she walked towards them, golden bangles on her wrists jingled together, and her form was complimented by a tight corset.  

"Gladly," she said in a voice as smooth as silk but as cold as ice.  

Raz didn't move as she approached him, keenly aware of the guards on either side of his chair.  

Tin Man spoke up.  "I did offer you a chance to give me answers of your own volition, you know.  You cannot blame me for opting to take them by force."

Raz had a very bad feeling about this.

Raven's smile tightened and she raised both hands, reaching for his head.  

Oh, he would have none of that!  Raz raised his arm to force her away and attempted to get up from his seat.  Before he got more than an inch up, though, one of the guards grabbed his shoulders and pushed him down, while another grasped his arms tightly, pinning them to his side.  He pulled as hard as he could, wriggling around in the chair in an attempt to get free.  The man holding him grunted and then Raz felt his arms pulled behind the chair and lashed together with rope.

Raz was now helpless and could do nothing but watch as Raven, her smile so wide it threatened to leave her face now, touched her fingertips to the side of his head.

Raz gasped as his vision blacked out.  In fact, everything blacked out and he felt like he was floating in complete darkness.  He couldn't feel the chair below him or the hands gripping him or the fingers on the side of his face.  

The first thing that came back was sound.  He heard a loud rushing in the distance, is if a great wind was blowing miles and miles away.  The next thing he knew, he blinked and he was standing in a sunny field.  

Mouth hanging open, Raz stared around at his surroundings.  As far as the eye could see were flowers.  They grew in clumps and patches; here a cluster of sunflowers, there a patch of roses, and over here a bunch of daffodils.  He took a deep breath, letting the scent of all the flowers fill his nose and his lungs.

Yes, his nose!  With clumsy hands he reached up and touched his face, letting the cool leather of his gloves slide across smooth, warm flesh.  He blinked his eyes –real eyes – and laughed with a mouth filled with a tongue and teeth.  He looked down a himself, at the long grey cloak he still wore.  It was splattered with blood, but as he let his hand drift over his chest, he couldn't feel any hint of the bullet wound.  

He didn't know what this place was.  Perhaps the woman's touch had finally killed him and this was his eternal paradise.  

"Clever, isn't it?" said a voice, snapping him out of his reverie.

He jerked his neck around to see none other than Raven strolling through the flowers towards him.

"Interesting that you would choose flowers.  You'd think that someone capable of causing the Tin Man such trouble would be more masculine."

Raz didn't bother answering.  He'd grown tired of that conversation in his youth.  

Raven walked up until she stood by a patch of pearly white roses near his feet.  "Let's begin here, shall we?"  She gave him that malicious smile, that smile that said I know something and you don't.  

He tried to step forward and stop her, but he found his legs locked in one position, powerless to stop her from bending down to the nearest flower.  Each white rose was ivory white with perfectly shaped petals, but when Raz looked close he could see, with a florist's trained eye, that the petals were turning slightly brown around the edge and within the roses were dead and brown.  

She plucked the flower, bringing it to her face and breathing in the aroma.  In the space between them, a fog appeared out of nowhere, with blurry shapes moving like a motion picture.  It took Raz a second to realise that the shapes were blurry because the 'movie' was being show from the point of view of a small child, blinded by his own tears.  

The child seemed to be sitting on a bed, while a shadowy silhouette framed by the light of a doorway shouted something incomprehensible.  

Raz lost his voice.  He stared at the image in shock, trying to form words as his mouth flapped like a fish out of water.

"Hm," Raven said.  "Boring."  She tossed the flower away and the image faded away.  Before Raz could find something to say, she reached down and plucked another white rose.  

Another foggy screen appeared before his eyes, this time showing the long, winding corridors of a fancy house as a young boy walked quickly through them.  From the edges of the screen, a small girl could be seen tagging along, but the view was pointedly not looking at her.  The girl's voice reached his mind without bothering to go through his ears.

"Raz, wait up!  Raz!  Mom said you have to be nice to me!  C'mon, Mom said!"

Raven tossed that flower away as well, Raz staring at the fading images.  He hadn't thought about that little girl in a long time...

"Let's move on," Raven said, strolling out of the roses.  She glanced back over her should with a smirk.  "Unless you want to try and stop me?"

Raz grunted as he tried to move his legs but found he just couldn't.  He was a prisoner within his own mind, as that was where he had deduced he was.  Each flower seemed to be a specific memory, many of them ones he had not thought about for years or even realised he still had.

Raven reached the sunflowers and Raz struggled to try and stop her.  He didn't want her poking around in his memory; it was private!  There were things in his past he had only ever told Kayla, and this horrible woman had no right to find them out.  

She plucked a sunflower.  Raz watched helplessly as another picture formed, the point of view higher off the ground than before.  He was a teenager now, walking through the streets of The City.  It was dark and the 'camera' jerked around rapidly as the younger Raz looked around in fear.  Raz recalled that night in his own memory: after he had run away from home but before he had found a place to run away to.
  
"Aw," said Raven, pouting at him.  "Was poor little Scarecrow fwightened?"

Raz glared, wishing he could move.  "Stop," he said.  "Leave."

Raven ignored him and tossed the sunflower aside.  "Hm, let's see if we can't find something juicier."  She walked through the sunflowers, saying, "Any exciting teenage dates here?"

"No," Raz snapped.  "Now get out of here."

This request was met with as much respect as the last, and Raven moved on from the sunflowers.  Raz's heart clenched when he saw her approaching a patch of blue primroses, looking exactly like the ones he left for Kayla every night.  By now he had seen the pattern, and there was no doubt what memories those flowers, the ones linked irrevocably with Kayla and Rose, contained.

No.  Not those memories.  If the Tin Man found out about Kayla and Rose, they would be in danger.  He couldn't let this awful woman endanger his loved ones like that.  

Raven reached down to pluck one of the flowers, and something inside Raz snapped.  There was no way he was letting her get to those flowers.  No.  Way.   

Get out of my head, he thought furiously.  Get out.  Get out of my head.  Get out of my head!  Out!  GET OUT! GET-

"Out!" He threw his feet up and kicked, forcing Raven away.  Her hands broke contact with him and his vision flashed back to the dim room.  Raven stood a couple feet away, her face baffled.  Raz breathed heavily for a few seconds before adjusting back to his straw body and realising breathing was just a formality and his racing heart was all in his mind.

Tin Man leaned forward in his chair.  "Interesting. Very interesting."

Raven's eyes narrowed.  "Why you-"

The door burst open and a red-faced, wide-eyed gangster stood in the doorway.  "Sir!  We – we're being attacked!"

"Pardon?" Tin Man asked, munching on a scone.

"There's a whole swarm of mythsiders attacking!"

Tin Man was quite for a few seconds, then lowered his hand.  "You'd better go take care of them, then."

"R-right, sir."   

There was a flurry of motion as everyone rushed out of the room.  Raven shot Raz an angry look as she brushed past, which Raz pointedly ignored.  When the door slammed shut, Raz was left alone with the Tin Man.  He tugged at his wrists, trying to work them free.  He had an advantage over regular people in this field, in that his hands were detachable.

"So, Scarecrow," Tin Man said, "I suppose this would be your doing."

"You would suppose incorrectly."

"Is that so?  You expect me to believe all these creatures just decided to storm in here unprovoked?"

Raz stared at him for a second as images of mythsiders locked in cages like animals flashed through his mind.  "...Unprovoked?"  He wriggled his right hand, trying to loosen it just enough to slide the wooden stick of his arm out of the glove.  Then the glove would drop to the floor, the ropes would slacken, and he'd be free.

"Hm," Tin Man said with the hint of a laugh.  "Surely I haven't done something to angerall of the attacking creatures.  You must have gone and riled them up."

In an even voice, Raz said, "It could be they feel a camaraderie for their fellows and want to help them."

"Don't be silly.  Now you're speaking as if they were human."

With all the strength he could muster, Raz reigned in his anger.  "I do not believe a cyborg has the right to pass judgment on what constitutes humanity."

"Excuse me?  I take offense to being called a cyborg, Scarecrow."  The way his mechanical voice hissed his 'name' made it very clear Tin Man was passing judgment on Raz's own humanity too.  

"I apologise.  The computerised voice, digital light in your eye and metallic sheen on your face confused me."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Just a... few more... centimetres...  The rope was very tight, and had his wrists been made of flesh and blood they'd have been rubbed raw by now.  Raz and the Tin Man continued their tense stared-down while Raz slid his arm the last few centimetres free.

"Scarecrow," Tin Man began, "I think it's time you-"

Whatever threat he was going to make was unfortunately cut off as the door slammed open once again.  Raz flinched, but instead of yet another one of Tin Man's men, he heard a wild shout and the beating of hooves as a centaur crashed into the room.

Tin Man's chair creaked as he leaned back.  "Well.  This is a surprise."

Raz jerked his arm free and jumped up from the chair.  He grabbed his staff from the floor and spun to face Tin Man, who was still sitting calmly in his chair while the centaur pointed a longbow at him.  

The centaur looked over at him and said, "Climb on my back, Scarecrow."

Raz complied, swinging his wooden legs up and holding on with his knees as the centaur turned and raced out of the room.  He gripped his staff in his hand and bashed gangsters they passed in the head like they were playing a game of polo.  

He was amazed by the chaos going on throughout the warehouse.  The hallways were packed with mythsiders of all species, waging a full on assault with the Tin Man's men.  Raz just hoped not too many of them were getting hurt.  

The centaur burst into the main room where over half of the cages had been opened already.  More mythsiders ran between the rows, picking the locks or – in the case of a few of the larger denizens – prying the doors right off.  With every cage opened, the mythsider militia grew.  

Raz hopped off the centaur and joined the fray.  He yanked a feather from his cap and set to work on the cages.  Now that a small army was helping him, this task went by a lot faster.  He rushed down the aisles, making sure to yell at any young children he freed to get the hell out of there.   

Being a Scarecrow, he didn't tire.  When a human's hands would have been sore from all the locks they'd pried open, Raz's leather gloves kept going with the efficiency of a machine.  He depended on the rest of the group to fight back the gangsters trying to stop them and focused completely on his work.

In what seemed like no time at all, every cage in the warehouse had been opened.  A huge lumbering troll shouted for the group to make their retreat, his booming voice sweeping across the warehouse like an avalanche.  

With a few quick looks around to make sure no one was trying to be a hero and stay behind, Raz followed the rest of the mythsiders to the exit.  He tried to ignore the number of them clutching injuries, and especially tried to look away from the bodies he stepped over on his way to the exit.  No victory could come without sacrifice.  

And then they were outside.  There was no time to stop running, though, so the small army stormed down the streets, rumbling the windows of other warehouses they passed.  As they went, the group gradually shrank as they went their separate ways until Raz turned on another street to head home.

Only now did he stop running.  He walked at brisk pace, coat flapping around his ankles.  His mind spun with everything that had happened that night, and he was quite glad he had decided to force Lily to stay at home.

He felt something on his side and looked down to see fluff sticking out of a rip he hadn't even noticed.  With a slight frown, he covered the hole with his hand.  He'd sew it up when he got home.  

It seemed an impossibly long walk home.  He felt tired despite not even having the muscles to get tired, and yearned for the comforting embrace of his bedroom.  His home warehouse was in a different district then the Tin Man's, and his non-existent heart leapt when he finally saw the hulking building.

When he approached it, however, he saw a small form huddled by the doors, fast asleep.  He stopped in front of the figure and sighed.  "What are you doing here, Lily?"  

That darn girl... he had explicitly told her to stay home, and yet here she was, sneaking out yet again.  She was as difficult to pin down as a shadow, and twice as likely to be glued behind his feet.  

With a yawn, the small naiad opened her eyes and smiled faintly.  "Hey, Raz... did you win?"  Her voice was heavy with sleep and her eyes only half open.

He gave her a half-smile.  "In the end, I suppose."

"Oh,"  she yawned again.  "Good."

With a sigh, Raz leaned over to pick her up.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder as Raz resigned himself to another long walk to take her home.  

"Why are you even here, anyway?" he grumbled, not sure if she was awake enough to hear him.

Evidently she did, as she mumbled, "Had to... make sure... you were ok..."

As Raz walked the dark city streets with Lily in his arms, his mind formed the image of a field of flowers.  Within that field was a pond, and in the pond, a peaceful water lily appeared.