But he needed help most desperatly

Snow fell. What else can I say? They waited for days for the storm to be over. By day - day? As dark as that was it day? - they played games in the floor. Chess, dames, cards. You could see each had a different way of playing it. Karyn was pacient, Fren could know what the others were thinking (and it turned to be highly advantageous for him) Haccu thought himself as a good observer but was rash, Foxy was surprisingly pacient, waiting for the right moment to play. But the big winner was always Hoshy, the better lier of them all.
By night, which seemed to be most of the time, they heard stories and songs. And felt cold the wind that came from between the wooden boards. Gwich was a master-storyteller, with expressions and all in a frightful composition of emotions. She could weave terrible moods and disperse them - as it is the storytellers manner - in one word and instant.


This is not just. This is not fair.
Welcome.

- Don't you want to come and see, the library of all? The knowledge that is stored in these walls and books?
- No, I prefer to play in the grass. To me, these books are all vanity.

He spended most of his life trying to be like the others, trying to be normal. He pretended he had friends, and that he was young, and that he could say foolish things. He wished to be just like them. He wished most desperatly to like and love like everyone else.
- He was of an age where he should be taking care of himself. But he needed help most desperatly.