Maria pulled the cloak tightly around her body. Her hands were dry, her lips were chapped, and the skin of her face was peeling. It had been two weeks since she was forced to leave everything behind, and she would have asked for nothing more than the confines of a safe home. 

_Was I always plagued by this illness? _She wondered. There was nothing that had made her feel set apart as a young child, but perhaps it was because she had not known. _What could have caused this?_

_ _Whatever had happened to her, there was nothing she could do to change it. She marched on, and on, and on. The colors danced around her, entwining and mixing between each other. Then, they were gone.