Finally. I think I made it just in time. It looks like the storm is about to start any moment now.

Casey rushed into Yorke, excited to see what he could before the dark of night took over. He saw plenty of stands along the main road of the town. People were selling trinkets, fruits, and tons of other kinds of goods. He didn't plan on buying anything, but he wanted to get a good look at as much as he could. It wasn't everyday he got to travel to a new town.

Seeing the sun had already set, and the storm was coming in, he knew people would be packing up their stands soon, so Casey moved right along, suddenly feeling energized.

Stopping at each stand, Casey made conversation with the vendors. Some people even offered him things for free, which he gladly took. He knew it was possible they did that because it was nearly the end of their work day, but he pretended it was because of his charm.

Eventually, he came across a vendor selling scarves and jewelry. Looking at them, he thought of his mother.

She deserves something nice for once.

"How much for this necklace here?" Casey asked, pointing to a simple chain with a pale green stone pendant.

The vendor looked at him, then the necklace. "Twelve spitchels," he said.

Twelve spitchels? Seriously?

"Come on, that's a bit much for that!?" Casey protested.

"Twelve spitchels," he said again, crossing his arms. "That's the price I'm willing to sell it for."

As hustled as he felt, Casey nodded his head and began counting out the money he owed. Although he wished he'd gotten it at a better price, he knew there was no way he was leaving without it. His mother would love the necklace, specifically because of the stone. It's shade of green was very familiar.

It was the same shade of green his father's eyes were; his mother's favorite feature on him. Casey knew how much she missed him; she deserved something special. This was it.

Feeling satisfied, Casey tucked the necklace away in his bag. He planned to head to another booth, but just then it began to rain. It started off slow and light, but slowly he could feel the rain picking up. Not waiting for it to get worse, Casey began to run for cover, keeping his eyes peeled for a pub. But, after running just a few steps, something caught his eye.

What is that?

Casey stopped running so he could get a good look at what was a few feet away from him. At first, he thought it was a pile of linens; possibly someone's laundry. But then it moved, revealing a face.

Wait, is that a girl?

Squinting his eyes, Casey focused in on her face. Her eyes were closed, and some of her blonde hair was spilling over.

Is she sleeping?!

Unconsciously, Casey started walking toward her, ignoring the weather as the rain turned into a shower. He started to say something, but then she suddenly woke up, looking around her.

Casey darted off, not sticking around to see if she noticed him there. A few buildings down, he heard a ton of laughter and music coming from inside.

Now, that's a pub if I ever knew one.

Casey ran in, his hair soaked. His jacket was pretty wet too, but it managed to keep most of his shirt dry. Taking it off, he found a seat at an empty table and laid his jacket on the chair next to him.

The first thing that caught his eye was a group of men, probably in their late thirties, at the end of the bar. They seemed to be arguing over something. He made a mental note to avoid going near them.

Looking around the pub, Casey realized it wasn't very different from the ones in Bartesville or LeHorn. There were quite a few families eating at the tables around him, but the majority of the crowd was old guys drinking beer. He was probably the only one that came in just to escape the rain.

"What can I get for ya'?"

To his left, a woman with short black hair stood, smiling at him. Casey didn't even notice when the barwoman approached him. She seemed cheerful, like she liked her job. If he had to guess, she was probably related to the owner.

"Ugh...what's the special?" Casey asked.

"Smoked brisket grinder with bar fries tonight," she said in a sing-song kind of way.

"Yeah, sure. I'll have that."

After she left Casey was free to take in his surroundings again. Everything looked the same as before, except this time a hooded figure sat at the booth farthest in the back.

A puddle was forming on the floor around them. He couldn't see much, but based on the person's build, he could tell she was a woman; possibly the one he saw sleeping on the ground.

She must have seen the worst part of the storm.

Casey watched as the same barwoman approached her.The hooded girl just waved her off, not ordering anything. He watched her for a few more minutes until his food came out.

"Thanks," he said as his food arrived.

"My pleasure," she responded, placing his fries to his left.

"Hey, ugh, who's that? Over there in the hood?" Casey asked the barwoman as he pointed in the direction of the hooded girl.

"Her? I don't know. Never seen her here before," she answered. "I've never seen you here either." she added.

"I'm Maria," she said as she held out her hand to shake his.

He returned the gesture, giving her a smile. She was cute, friendly, and a bit flirtatious; but he wasn't interested.

"Casey," he said, keeping it simple.

"Well, Casey, let me know if you want anything," she winked, and then walked off to another table.

When he looked back to the booth in the back, the girl's hood was off, and her wet blonde hair was dripping down her back.

So I was right. It is the girl from earlier.

She looked small, but fit. Her arms were shivering as she rubbed them with her hands. She was completely drenched from the storm. He felt bad for her, seeing her sitting by herself.

Is she some sort of runaway?

It looked like she was worried something in her bag got ruined because she was frantically rummaging through it. She must have found it because a moment later, she was back to rubbing her arms.

What took her so long to come in from the rain?

Deciding to drop his pointless questions, Casey focused on the food in front of him. He was hungry and it looked good. As he ate, he thought it best to see if anyone knew who Gordon was. He wouldn't be able to stay in the pub all night so he needed to figure out where he was going to stay. If Marcus' word was true, Gordon owed him a favor, and taking Casey in for the night would pay it.

"Excuse me. Do you guys know who Gordon is?" he asked an older couple sitting at the table across from him.

"Gordon? Why he owns the inn at the other end of this street," the old man replied.

"Oh, great. Thank you," Casey said, smiling in gratitude.

He'd head there after he finished his meal.

It's a good thing I brought that umbrella.

"Oh, Hugh, would you look at that poor thing," the old lady said, pointing to the girl with the blonde hair.

Casey looked in her direction again, watching her struggle to stand up straight. She scrunched her face up as she balanced herself on one leg, looking like she was in a lot of pain.

What's up with her leg?

He watched her grab a crutch and use it to steady herself as she hopped over the puddle of water around her. For a second, he thought she might slip and fall, but even in her state she looked capable.

After she made it over, she looked up, scanning the faces in the room.

"Honey, are you okay?" the old man called out to her.

Looking to them she walked over, using the crutch to stay up. After every couple of steps, she would look back at her booth. It was like she was checking to make sure her things were still there.

"What happened to you, girl?" the man asked.

"It's nothing to worry about ," she said, her voice soft and light. "I'm very uncoordinated, that's all."

For some reason, Casey didn't believe her.

"If you wouldn't mind, could you tell me what these are?" she asked, holding out two spitchels. Her hands were shaking, and just a few feet away, Casey could see the goosebumps on her arms.

"You don't know what these are?" the old woman asked, her face showing her surprise as she took over the conversation.

The girl seemed to get frazzled from the question. She looked away, wiping the blonde hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. She was so close that Casey could make out the details of her face.

Big round eyes, though he couldn't see the color. She was looking everywhere but at him. Her lips were full, a rosey tint to them. Against her fair complexion they stood out. Her nose was small, round, and surrounded by little brown marks.

Freckles. Huh. I don't know many people with those, but they look nice on her.

"They're spitchels, dear," the lady answered.

Casey continued to listen in, this being the first intriguing thing he'd come across since he got to Yorke.

"Well, what could I get to eat with two...spitchels," she asked, slight hesitation in her voice. She looked nervous, unsure.

"You're not from around here, are you?" the old man chuckled.

The girl turned her head in Casey's direction, her expression looking uneasy. Then she looked at Casey, holding eye contact for a few seconds. To Casey, it felt much longer.

Dark blue. Big, round, dark blue eyes.

He held the stare, trying to see what was going on in her mind. Just looking at her, he could feel how on edge she was.

He might have said she looked scared but that didn't fit. She seemed strong, despite her current handicap. But, something was clearly wrong.

If she's a runaway, is someone looking for her?

He thought that would explain her actions and possible paranoia.

She suddenly broke their stare, rushing back to her booth. She quickly grabbed her hood and bag and then was speeding out the door, back into the rain. The old couple were clearly caught off guard by her sudden exit.

"Wait, where are you going?!" the old man yelled.

It took a minute, but after placing the money he owed for his food on the table, Casey grabbed his stuff and headed out the door after her.