A young girl crouches on the ground, hiding behind a headstone.  Some thugs are after her, a confrontation she would rather avoid.  She stills her breathing to a minimum, hearing the sounds of running footsteps approaching.  She closes her eyes for a second, imagining where she would rather be.  The yelling reaches her ears- taunts and threats.  Their words- all the pain they promise when they find her- maker her stomach churn.  She forces the feeling down, focusing instead on surviving.  She tried to block out their words, but images flash in her mind and she can see exactly what they mean.  She can vividly imagine the pain and blocks that, too.  The sounds die down, but she sits there for another half an hour to make sure they are truly gone- these men are worse than their word.  She lets out a shaky breath and peers over the headstone, her hands brushing along the engraving.  She sees that the graveyard is deserted and exhales, slumping against the now warm stone.  She leans her head back and thanks the powers that be for this headstone.  It had been the only thing between her and unimaginable pain.  She turns and stare at the engraving.  All it says is RB Riddick with dates.  Nothing else- no epitaph, no flowers, nothing.  How sad. she thinks.  Her fingers trace the letters, the stone feeling rough and cool to the touch.  She takes a deep breath and leans her head on the marker, giving silent thanks to the person who had given their life so she could live.  She stands up and stretches, her thin clothes pathetic for the winter that's on its way.  The sun is shining and she walks to a nearby field, collecting a handful of wildflowers.  She walks back to the graver solemnly and places the flowers on the ground in front of the stone.  She turns her back and walks away, going back to a life she hates. 

Winter has passed and its now spring, and our heroine is still alive, though no one knows how.  She walks back up to the cemetery, a bouquet of stolen flowers in her arms.  She removes the old decayed flowers and throws them into the field, placing the new ones on the same spot.  She whispers her thanks again and turns, only to come face to face with a woman.  She's ten years older than she, and the look on her face is none too friendly. 

"What are you doing here?" the woman demands coldly, her voice sending unconscious chills down her spine.

"Nothing.  I was just putting some flowers on this grave" she indicates the stone behind her.

"Why?" she asks, her voice slightly less cold but no less demanding.

"He saved my life" she says simply and moves to walk away.

"How?  He was dead before you were born" she states.

"His gravestone protected me from some very bad people- he saved me from them.  Because he was in this exact spot, right where I needed him to be"

The woman surveys the girl in front of her.

"Would you like to know who he was?"

"If you want to tell me" she answers, not wanting to encroach in this woman's life

"Follow me" she demands cryptically.  Seeing no other choice, she trails behind the woman, wondering where this path will lead her.