Over the next few days, in the safety of a warm, dry house and plenty of sustenance to fill her tiny frame, Christine's health steadily improved. The fever left her, she stopped coughing, and soon she found the strength to wander around the house.

She even helped me with chores, although I must say that she only did so because her father helped me. She seemed terribly dependent on her father, following and clinging to him wherever he went. He never objected, however; in fact, he did not seem to understand how much influence he held over her actions. They simply loved each other, positively worshipped each other, and could not imagine doing anything that would hurt one another.

As an objective observer, it seemed to me that little Christine had lived her entire life surrounded by intense love, and I wondered how she would fare if her father died in the near future. It was not a morbid thought, I assure you, to imagine such a fate – their nomadic lifestyle only increased the likelihood of such an event. Christine was like a baby canary unable to leave her nest, and if her nest were taken away, would she fly or would she twirp bleakly and flutter to the ground until someone caught her in another nest? The latter seemed more likely, but it grieved me to think of her so incapable of independent motivation, so dependent on others' love. My doll agreed.

"We must do something to help her!" said my doll one day. "It is unhealthy that she should depend so heavily on anyone!"

Yet neither of us had any idea how to help her; as strangers, it was not our place to interfere with Daaé's parenting directly.

The storm finally lost its momentum the same day Christine grew well. That day, I woke up to find that the rain had stopped. The gray clouds parted, the sky became blue, and the sunlight shone through.

As soon as I had sang a little, put away my belongings, dressed, and said goodbye to my doll, I ran outside. The first order of business after any long storm is to climb a tree. It sounds silly, even to my own mind, but for me, it is such a wonderful act of freedom! After so many days confined inside, I longed to be freed of my walk on Earth, of the chains my home had ensnared me in. What better way to act on this longing then to climb a tree? To climb up and up and up, far away from the ground, far away from responsibilities and standards and expectations! Up there in the leaves, in the branches, so close to heaven, I could even pretend to be a bird, or an angel, and float serenely above the poor, plodding creatures of the Earth.

I ran to a tree nearby my home, a tree I always loved to venture upwards. I grabbed hold of the nearest branch. Truly, climbing was the easiest thing in the world; I hardly needed to think about it! I reached up for the next branch once I had steadied myself, and continued up, up, up, lithely passing through the damp leaves that brushed my face softly. It did grow darker as I continued my way up, and yet at the same time, brighter, as I came closer and closer to the sun. Little ants and small bugs crawled on the branches, but I did not concern myself with them; they were harmless. I continued climbing up, up, up, fingers and arms scraping against wet bark until finally, I had reached the top!

I sat on a sturdy branch, surveying the expanse before me. Little houses dotted the roadside, but further out, I could see the great forests and trees! How I longed to be there in the forest, away from these stifling houses! I looked up at the sky, and felt the warmth of the sun on my face. I even dared to let go of the branches with my hands and spread my arms as if I were a bird. I closed my eyes, imagining myself flying over the rooftops and the trees to escape into somewhere away from here!

It was so easy, really, to stand up and fly! Simply let go of the branches, leap into the air, and fly away…

For a moment, I considered the possibility seriously. But then I opened my eyes and looked back down on the ground and saw that little Christine and Daaé had exited my house and were watching me. I waved at them, and Christine and her father waved back.

Not yet, Little Lotte! You still have work to do!

So, I climbed swiftly back down, and at the last few feet, I jumped down to greet them.

"How are you?" I asked as I jumped down. "How was your rest? How is Christine? Is there anything you need? Anything that I can provide?"

Daaé shook his head. "You think of everything, Lotte! You needn't worry so much about us."

"Oh, don't worry about my thinking of everything. Up there, I think of nothing in the world. I feel so free of my worries, it's as if I could fly away from my troubles."

"Yes, you did look like a bird of the sunshine, with the sun glinting off your hair," said Daaé warmly. "It is good for you to get out of the house, to seize the chance to rest your busy mind in the air."

I looked at Christine, who looked rather fearfully up at the tree. She was far less pale today; she had probably recovered from the worst of her illness; a question to Daaé regarding her health confirmed my conclusion.

I noticed that in Christine's hand was my doll – my doll! She took it without asking! I wondered if the doll had told Christine anything as I had climbed up the tree…

"She saw your doll on the shelf and wanted to see it, so I got it for her," Daaé explained when he saw me staring at my doll. "How could I ever deny her her heart's desire?" He did not apologize. I don't believe he was sorry for allowing his daughter to meddle with my things. My earlier feelings of warmth and goodwill disappeared as I pondered over Christine's act of thievery and Daaé's inability to refuse.

I tried to smile forgivingly and said kindly, "Do you like my doll, Christine?"

Christine stared at me for a moment, then stared at my doll, then, with a shocking brusqueness, said, "No."

I looked quickly to Daaé, but he was smiling at his daughter, seemingly entranced by her. He was certainly not as perturbed as was I by this child's rudeness!

"No? But why not?"

"She's ugly," said Christine simply. "I used to have a prettier doll. Your doll is old and ugly. She's not nice. She's ugly like a spider." Christine's adorable little face wrinkled in disgust.

I tried not to slap this brat. She was insulting my doll! My doll could hear; did she not know that? I wanted to take my poor doll back from this child; why was she still holding it? Was not her father's love enough? Was she truly that needy of comfort?

Slowly, in as calm a voice I could muster, I said, "But she is my favorite doll, Christine! She's old, but she's also very wise! I used to talk to her all the time when I was your age, and she taught me all sorts of things!"

"Dolls don't talk."

What an unimaginative and deaf child this one was!

I tried to say more, but suddenly Christine threw my doll down and ran off, giggling madly. She tumbled onto the grass, soiling her frock and her shoes. My frock! My shoes! My favorite frock and red shoes in the world! Daaé laughed at the sight of her, while I stooped down to pick up my doll. Calmly, I smoothed her hair and her frock. Inside, however, I seethed with anger at Christine's disrespect.

For a while Daaé chased after Christine, running and laughing and tickling her, and the two were simply so happy together that I felt some of my anger slip away. Instead of wanting to hurt them, I only wanted to walk back inside and slam the door in their faces.

Finally, Daaé sat down on the ground as Christine sat in the grass, deftly tearing blades of it away. Presently, Daaé said to me, rather unexpectedly, "Your room is very neat, Lotte," he went on unexpectedly. "Your frocks, your shoes, your violin case, your doll… Everything tucked away so neatly. You take good care of your belongings."

I did not know what to say, so I thanked him. And then, spontaneously, I decided to test this man's gullibility, and perhaps even push his sense of dignity, if he had any.

"Mama always told me to clean up after myself. She always told me, 'Lotte, whatever you do, put away your frock, your shoes, and your violin! Take good care of your doll, I might not buy you another!' So I always tidy up my frock and everything else. At first I hated taking care of everything, but soon I realized it made my own life much easier, and neater. I love her very much for teaching me such values that are so beneficial to my own well-being," I concluded. I watched the man closely. I had indirectly insulted his parenting by contrasting between my own habits and little Christine's, who has now running rampant around the grass, further staining my dress. I had also lied. Would he notice? Could he tell?

Daaé nodded. "Ah, it is such a blessing when a child loves her mother so!" he said, gazing dreamily at his own child.

That night, Christine insisted on taking my doll with her when she went to sleep. Apparently, despite how "ugly" my doll was, she still wanted it there beside her. I could do nothing to persuade her otherwise.

"Please, Lotte, don't let her take me!" I heard my doll plead as Christine dragged her away.

I felt terribly guilty, but there was nothing I could do. It would be quite rude to act otherwise, to deny a guest her wishes. I thought I would never sleep without my doll's presence in my room, but I soon found myself in another dream with my Angel of Music. He spoke no words this time, no reprimands, only pure, haunting song.

A/N: Er, I know this chapter seemed rather pointless. All I can say is, the tree and characterization are significant later on.