Walking along the alley, legs moving as steady as a cat's. Willow made her way to the Inn. Her head was elsewhere, she was calculating. Her last customer was very lucrative, and she cleared her mind of all the recent actions by thinking about money. One thousand here, one thousand there and she could make her dreams come true. She wouldn't do this anymore. She was so deep in thought she didn't see the shadows. They crept in the silence, in the dark. Only one lamp in the distance held the light than barely shown, and the stars were mute in their attempts. They came from all angles, tackling her and ripping away her belongings like jackals. She screamed, but alone where no one could hear it was futile. She tried to fly, but they pulled her wings and down to the ground she tumbled. They plucked her feathers, and stabbed her. And like hamlet, all is silence.