It was cooler than usual, this brilliant October morning. A chill wind and the front from the night before, making most reluctant to leave their beds. Despite that, many were out, filling the streets. Parents sending children off to school, some rushing off to work, teens either skipping school, or in no hurry, lounging near bus stops. In all a typical London morning. Not far from the general hustle was a small park, the remnants of a long forgotten cemetery. A bike path wound through the center, while a small pond lay at the center, benches scattered about for those that enjoyed reading there. Two small carts were at either end of the path, one with warm drinks the other with roasted nuts. Here and there, almost hidden among the trees and bushes, a tombstone rested, some tall and ornate, some barely visible even if someone was looking for it. Hollowwood Park, previously Hollowwood Cemetery over a century ago, was a well known and well loved shortcut for many. One young woman went through the park twice a day. Bundled in a jacket and scarf, and with a book open in her hands, she walked the same way she always did, eyes fixed more on the words than on where she was going. This was a common sight for anyone that frequented the park. As she walked, two teens ran past, the second bumping into just hard enough to knock her off the path and down the slight incline that ran next to the path. She tumbled straight into the bushes. For a moment, she laid there, before grumbling under her breath, and brushing her brown hair out of her eyes. Her book fell at the base of one of the older tombstones, this one so worn and weathered that no would could be seen. Taking a minute to work herself out of the bush, her green eyes widened when she look at the time on her watch. "Oh no, now I'm late!" She snatched her book from the ground and took off at a dead run.