The girl stands up and feels around. There are damp walls. Are they walls? They seem to phase in and out of existence. She is careful not to get her hand caught inside the "wall."

The nothing confines her, and she wishes for walls as she shuffles on. She wishes for tight spaces to fill with her body and her voice but whe she shouts nothing escapes her lips and whe she reaches out she feels only the strange walls. Not good enough.

She picks up the pace, walking faster and faster, until she seems to be running. She looks all around as she sprints through the nothing, but can't see anything, hear anything, feel anything.

Until she collides suddenly with another surface - another person. 

The girl stumbles and tries to brace herself against one of the strange walls, but she passes right through it and she falls to the undefined ground. She barely manages to register a couple dots of pure white light in the darkness like stars that lost their way in the night sky. In a brief moment, they illuminate a pair of shining eyes- and before she can think, the girl is jumping forwards, hands outstretched to the stars, to the person in front of her.

And the light flashes on -- and then off again. Or, no. Perhaps that was just her imagination, a hallucination induced by the collision. But the light of what? She reaches out and feels the person again. Once more, she can see.

It is at that point she realizes that the person is not a person, but a gigantic animal of some sort. She remembers a coat of her grandmother's, and guesses that the animal is a fox. The fox speaks. "Hello, Emerald." Saoirse, she thinks, Wait, what? Who is Saoirse? And how does she know my name? For some reason, she suddenly believes that this fox can be trusted. And so she stammers, "Ev-everyone usually calls me Emmy." "Very well," the fox responds. The voice is ... strong, motherly... "You seem to know who I am," the fox (Saoirse?) continues, "You have an open mind. Others, they don't seem to hear my voice, or my name."

Or at least that's what the boy thinks, as he lays down his charcoal. Looking over his creation, he shivers. It feels a bit too real sometimes.