Seven days of wandering doesn't do me any good.

My hair is a bird's nest and I'm running out of power. I haven't charged myself since I ran away. Nine days, four hours, and twenty one minutes, in fact. I'm dreading that I'll collapse in the middle of a street and Dr. Grimhilde will catch up to me. I can imagine it happening:

Me: Hello, do you know where the nearest power station is?

Stranger: Yes, just go along this street and—holy! Somebody! Call an ambulance!

Dr. Grimhilde: Oh, I'm a doctor! See? My name has the 'Dr.' title on it!

I'd rather it not happen.

I'm still in Dwarf City. I couldn't wrench myself away from here. I don't know why. Maybe it's the fact this place was the last place where I had contact with family? Or perhaps its comforting character had lulled me into staying.

However, if I want to remain talking and walking, I have to find some kind of power source that can support me. Sure, I could turn on the emergency supplies, but then I'd have no backup.

My internet search is off to conserve battery. I have to rely on luck to find a large, secluded power source.

Suddenly, I see it. The Dwarfs' Workshop. A workshop would have at least some power, right?

I stumble in there, not bothering to knock. The door was unlocked, strangely enough, but lucky for me. Nobody's in there. I guess my fortune is turning.

A newspaper titled 'July 4th Edition' is lying on some kind of moving machine. I brush aside the newspaper.

A large generator is clunking along, supposedly powering the whole room. It's rusted and old. It'll do.

I open a panel in my forearm and plug a wire into the generator. My vision, which had been slowly but surely dimming, instantly cranked up to the highest brightness, blinding me. I wince and blink out the black spots in my eyes.

Abruptly, I notice a strange bulk in the corner, covered by a heavy canvas. I unplug myself from the generator and slowly tread to the object. Something is motivating me to uncover it.

I grip the cloth's corner, hesitating for a moment, before ripping off the canvas in a flourish.

Some kind of frame sits there, filled with wires and a control system. I try to scan it, failing, obviously, since my internet search was down.

My ears alert me of at least three people behind me. I whip around, instinctively shutting my panel in my forearm.

Seven, wide-eyed men are standing at the door way, holding paper cups and a sandwich bag. The one holding the sandwich bag drops it.

I wave my fingers at them. "Hi?"

Then I keel over and faint.

~•~•~•~

"Hello? Miss? Are you all right?"

My eyes snap open. Backup power taking place. Find power source soon, my alert says. I'm laying on a sofa. A gentle hum of a fan fills the room.

A pointy face hovers over mine, nose looking abnormally large. The face backs away, and the nose seems to return to a reasonable size. "She's awake," the man shouts.

I twist my head around, taking in my surroundings. Where am I?

The Dwarves' Workshop, Dwarf City, my sources tell me. My eyes are drawn again to the generator.

"Hey," I say, jumping out of the couch. "Mind if I borrow that generator?"

Not waiting for their response, I open my panel and plug myself into the generator. I look around, barely suppressing my grin at their amazement.

"Hi, I'm Snow White," I pleasantly greet, waving my free arm. "Nice to meet you all."

"Wha—are you the Snow White?" a wimpy looking man asks, gaping at my arm.

"Whoa," says another. "She's actually in our workshop!"

"Yeah! I recognize her from the news!"

"How come I didn't recognize you from before?" a person demands. "Remember me?" I glance at him, and run facial recognition scans from now to 240 hours ago.

A match pops up. He was the flute player at the little concert. I suddenly develop a grudge against him. His music certainly made a fool of me. I scowl at him, sticking my tongue out. He blinks, taken aback.

"Alright, yes, I'm the real Snow," I say authoritatively, putting my hands on my hips. "I'd like you all to refrain yourselves from blabbing this all over town. I'm actually hiding from this evil witch, so if you all cooperate, I will personally make sure you get showered with rewards. Now, it's a little awkward talking to you all without knowing names." I said this all in one breath.

The flute player speaks up, flustered. "I—I didn't know an anthroid could be so . . . real. It's like, you have a personality."

"Of course I do," I snap. "I have feelings too. Who are you, anyway?"

"Uh, Lucas," he answers, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you." His hand withers away when I send a glare at it.

"Nick."

"Alex."

"Mark."

"Kyle."

"Brandon."

"George."

"Hi, your faces have been recorded with your names in my system, so no worries about re-introducing yourselves to me," I explain quickly.

I realize I'll have to change my attitude if I want them to keep me hidden. I clear my throat and flash a smile at them.

"Sorry for being so rude," I apologize. "Dr. Grimhilde is chasing after me, and it's only a matter of time before she finds me and shuts me down. Please, help me."

Mark frowns and says, "But what if the Dr. Mary Grimhilde, who you claim is chasing you, finds that we've helped you? What happens then?"

I open and close my mouth like a fish, unsure of how to respond. If Dr. Grimhilde found out, she'd punish and sue them. Instead I plead them with my best puppy eyes. Please help me.

Lucas speaks up. "Guys, we can't just let an innocent girl wander in the streets."

"She's not a real girl, and who knows if she's innocent," Brandon snaps. "Nobody would be chasing after you if you did nothing to them."

"I have my reasons, okay?" I explain. "I mean, I can always tell you my story, but I'm afraid you'll all tear up."

"We need to talk," George hisses to Lucas, "outside." He sends me a pointed glare.

I cough and tap my ears. "I can probably eavesdrop, you know. No need to step out. There's no point."

Nick sighs. "Ya know, why don't we just thrown her out?"

Lucas steps to my side. "We are going to help Snow, and that's that."

It's obvious Lucas is their leader. The others are scowling but they aren't throwing me out. They finally nod grudgingly.

"Fine," Kyle says. "As long as we get to examine your structure, I'm good."

"My . . . my structure?"

"Yep, we're trying to build a robot, but we're stuck. So, are you in, Snow?"

"Sure," I agree. The Dwarfs' Workshop is my new home. "Why do you call this place the Dwarfs' Workshop? You guys aren't that short."

Everybody except Lucas starts picking up the fallen sandwiches. Lucas shrugs and explains, "This is Dwarf City. When we become famous, we'll be the representatives of Dwarf City. Can you imagine that? The Dwarfs of Dwarf City. The only common thing about us is that we all don't have siblings." I nod, picking at a fingernail on my left hand.

"Luke!" Alex calls. "Don't forget the meeting today."

"Oh, yes," Lucas says. "Hey, Snow, we gotta go to this meeting right now, okay? Stay put, and we'll come in, oh, about an hour."

I shrug, sitting down on the sofa. "As long as I can eat your sandwiches."