It was a dark and stormy night. An unnatural haze lingered over The Tekkiter Floor. In her bed, Yoggo shivered. For a summer night, the air was cold and the sky was black. It was almost as if something evil lurked out there in the shadows.
Yoggo rolled over, clutching her pillow, and tried to fall back asleep. But a worry nagged in the back of her mind. Something was not right. No matter how she tried, some ghostly force prevented her from sleeping. It made her uneasy. With a sigh, she rolled out of bed, pulled on her panties, and poured herself a cup of water from the pitcher on his nightstand. Quietly, she left her room.
The halls were silent as she walked in the dark. She did not know where she was going, or why, but her body seemed to move on its own accord. She was being drawn by an unseen power. Past her father's bedroom, past the dining hall, past the cellar, and out onto the terrace. With the moon hidden behind thick clouds, it was nearly impossible to see in the inky black night. But something lying on the path to Yoggo's right made her gasp in shock. A body!
'Oh My God!' Yoggo shouted. Se leapt over the terrace railing and onto the ground below, running toward the fallen form as fast as she could. Tree branches scratched at her skin and pulled at her clothes, but she paid them no mind. Heart pounding, she fell to his knees on the pathway and placed a gentle hand on the figure's neck.
Now that she was closer, he could see that this was a young girl of The Internet, a writer by the looks of her, who appeared to be no more than 13 years old. But he was in dire need of help. Her clothes were torn and bloody, and her hair was matted with mud. She needed the attention of a healer, immediately. Without a second thought, Yoggo picked up the wounded writer and, cradling her in her arms, carried her inside to seek the help that was so desperately needed.