Blodwen tumbled onto the street, panic welling welling inside her. Tears sprang in her eyes, turned the world bright and blurry. Millennia old instinct told her feet to flee. Both heart and head screamed 'No! No no no no no NO!' Her throat constricted, stomach threatening to bring back breakfast. Her limbs shook, her nose filled with goo. This time she didn't notice the wall until she ran slap-bang into it. Blodwen recoiled, her throat choking out sobs and sucking in air. She collapsed onto the ground, head spinning, trying to wipe away the tears and snot but only spreading both over her face. She buried her head in her arms, away from the sunlight, and cried until she puked and there were no more tears.

Eventually Blodwen looked up, wiping her face more effectively this time. She was in a back alley near the bad part of town. Nearby, a tramp was sending curious glances her way. Blodwen stood up out of the trash and filth, attempting to dust herself down and pull her disarrayed hair into order.

"'Ere you go luv," said a voice to the other side of her. Blodwen almost jumped out her skin. There was homeless girl on the other side of the alley holding out a shard of mirror. Blodwen took it cautiously.

"Thank you," she said, her voice hoarse. She took a glance at herself, and found it was as bad as she was expecting. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, her face grimy, and sheened with tears, snot and blood. Her forehead had begun to purple, and there was dried blood around the area where she'd knocked it. Again, she tried to wipe at her face, but did nothing but make the smudging worse. Blodwen gave up and handed the mirror back.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"No problem," the homeless girl said, the mirror vanished into the folds of her coat. "Nice shiner you got there." Blodwen smiled ruefully.

"Teach me to look where I'm going," she said. The girl gave her a small smile. "Thanks again." The girl nodded, and Blodwen left.

Unthinking, she headed for a public convenience, her mind a-whirl with fresh questions, as well as her unanswered ones from before. She didn't understand at all what the old woman had been blathering about. She wasn't any kind of... well, anything. I work a minimum wage job, for a horrid boss, who never gives me the weekend off. I have nothing by the 9 GCSEs I left school with and most of them are Cs and Ds. I have nothing, I am nothing. Why, what made her think that it was me the book spoke of?

Blodwen walked into the toilet and splashed clean, cold water over her face. She stood, letting it drip down.

Book. Torc. Blodwen stood up straight, and clapped a hand to her side. The satchel was flat. She grabbed at it, pulling it open. Furiously she snatched at damp strands of hair obscuring her vision. The book, the torc, the box. She didn't have them. Panic rose again, making her breath faster, her heart and stomach clench. She'd left them at the shop. Nuts! That mean going back. Blodwen snatched at a paper towel dispenser, drying her face as she walked through the door of the restroom.

And stopped.

What the hell? Why was she so bothered she didn't have them? She should be happy - that was that, no more involvement. Why do I care? she wondered. Because, came her vicious reply, they're mine!

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