Fall, 832

The morning sun peeked through the gray clouds. It was going to rain. Analee remained in bed for two more minutes until she slowly rose. Her father would be returning from yet another mission beyond the Wall. When that thought crossed her mind, a bright smile grew over her frown and she jumped out of bed.

"Mama, Mama! Papa's coming home!" she marched around the kitchen while her mother prepared their breakfast.

"Look Analee," she laughed. "This time I'm making a third plate."

Analee's eyes grew with excitement and she continued to march around the dining table.

"All right, darling. Let's go." Her mother said, putting a small cloak on Analee's shoulders. "The clouds are getting darker. Better to be safe than sorry!"

All the dwellers within Wall Maria lined up on both sides of the street, creating a clean path for the returning soldiers. When the gate opened, everyone began to whisper and admired the men and women for their immense bravery, but they appeared more sullen than usual. Commander Keith Shadis halted his horse and the crowd stood silent. Analee tried spotting her father but was nowhere to be found, though her smile never faded.

"Carol and Analee De La Fuente." an unknown corporal called the mother and daughter out of the crowd.

"Come on, dear..." Carol urged her daughter forward, fear held captive in her blue-green orbs.

The two walked together hand in hand to the center of the road, and stood before the Commander. Shadis analyzed the smiling five year old and closed his eyes in despair.

"Mrs. Carol Salvatalle, wife to 1st Lieutenant, Antonio Salvatalle and Miss Analee Salvatalle, daughter to 1st Lieutenant, Antonio Salvatalle, I come bearing the news that 1st Lieutenant, Antonio Salvatalle has been killed in action."

Those words. The words that a five year old should never hear slipped into Analee's ears. Her mother's hand grew limp and slowly let go of Analee's hand. She dropped to her knees and sobbed.

Analee, who's smile could never be wiped from her face, frowned and spilled involuntary tears that were masked with the foreseen rain.

Papa.