A/N: A ficlet focusing on Robin, similiar to the one I wrote for Rose.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Robin didn't understand.
She didn't understand why the sky was blue or why the grass was green. Most importantly, though, she didn't understand why Mother didn't want her to play in the woods.
The woods were wonderful! There were so many places to explore: the playground, the field, the theatre-
and, of course, the graveyard.
The graveyard was the most fascinating place to Robin. She knew of death and knew that it caused sadness, but her knowledge didn't extend beyond that. Death, at the moment, was something that didn't happen to her. It was something she had never faced and never thought she would have to face.
She bounded from headstone to headstone, reading the names with much interest and trampling the graves beneath her booted feet. Oh, she didn't know any better. She was only a child, merely nine years old. She didn't understand that she was disturbing the dead with her laughter.
She continued on her adventures, climbing across grave after grave. She thought climbing upon the small mounds was great fun!
Robin paused in her adventuring to look up at the statue of the angel that sat in the center of the graveyard. The angel, faded with age, cried silently.
I wonder why she's so sad, Robin though. She approached the statue and, almost reverently, touched the cold stone. It chilled her fingers. Maybe she's lonely. She probably doesn't have anyone to play with.
It was then Robin heard a noise. A soft, gentle growl. Maybe it was a wolf! Robin turned around eagerly. Oh, she adored wolves!
Indeed, there stood a wolf, tall and burly, poised on his hind legs much like a man stood.
Robin smiled and stepped forward.
"Hello!" she greeted. "My name's Robin! Do you want to play with me?"