It was a dark and stormy night. As overused as that sentence is, there wasn't any other way Lilly could describe it. She had thought about it. It was a dark and windy and rainy night. It was a thunderstormy night. It was a stormy and dark night. See? Nothing. In any case, she was taking shelter in the old school building, sitting on a chair in the classroom by the wall opposite the broken windows. Beside her was a bag of various sorts of stuff, all of which was past the due date. Her aunt had taught her about due dates a long time ago, when they had flown across the country to see her (She wished she had written a journal about it - about what it had been like to fly). She remembered the old hag throwing a fit when she had discovered that the bottle of pop (was it sprite? coke?) she had been drinking had been passed is date for a day. Her memory recalled it being thrown across the room, but that must have been a dramatisation, because she had no recollection of any sort of cleanup. Idly, she rummaged through her loot for some food. She didn't eat anything in the packages - it was important to cook that sort of thing first, but she had a small bag in which she had gathered various greens that had been flourishing along the roads. It was mostly dandelion, but she had also found clover flowers and plantain. "Hello, miss." The voice caught her by surprise. She jerked upright, and peered at its source. A young girl had walked in through the doorway. She was playing with her fingers nervously. Daylily wondered which of them was more nervous. It wasn't that she didn't like children - in fact, she loved them - but children that happened to be strangers were a different story. Half the time, they were used as lures, either by packs of urban dwellers or even clever bandit families. As if that wasn't enough, children born after The Storm were sometimes... different. "Hi," she said to the child. "Where are your parents?" "They're not here," she said. "My name is Lizzie. Nice to meet you." "Nice to meet you too, I'm Daylily." "Hi Daylily." Somehow, when the storm subsided and morning dawned, they left together, the little child following behind her like an obedient puppy. There was no ambush (though she took the longer route out, just in case), and the child didn’t set anything on fire, which was nice. She wondered how she would explain her stray to the group. They were waiting for her a short while away, tucked under a bridge by a river.