Author's Note: Oh, hey, guess what? I totally just got the cutest earrings that are wings :P There's red, black, and white ones, and I luff dem! If you wanna be sneaky about your obsession with bird-kids and be fashionable simultaneously, I suggest you find your own. Shakes head And they dangle and make real cute noises! EEEEEEKKK!!

…

…Yes, I did just spend a good five minutes plugging a product that I will not get paid for plugging. I just love them

that

much.

In more serious news, I have decided not to write for Max and Fang and your modern-day flock until I get the fourth book under my belt, because I don't wanna screw anything up unless it is mine. Because I will let my imagination loose. And it will not be accurate. And I will not be able to write about how Gazzy has x-ray vision, because I don'tknow that he does. Does he? I haven't read the book. ;)

So, yeah. As you can see, I'm not so good a writer that I pull Ditto's almost-insanity from the air. I experience it. Have I done the uncomfortable dance on a bus? Yes, I have. Have I had to write itineraries for myself whenever I get stressed out so that I don't forget anything? Yes, I most certainly have. Have I spent ten minutes writing a ridiculously stupid author's note for the fun of it? Yes, I definitely have. But Ditto hasn't. Does that mean I'm even crazier than her? Meh. Too tired to delve into our psyches, so you'll just have to settle for some more of the fresh-baked nonsense that I call a story.

…

Wow, I just re-read that all, and couldn't help but laugh. XD I am a freaking idiot!

And, yes, this chapter will be confusing for a good number of you. Because it doesn't make sense yet, and I did that on purpose. So unless you're one of those people who are ridiculously good at guessing, then you're not stupid at all if you don't get it.

His eyes scanned the night, soaking in every tiny detail. He would retain every bit of information there, no matter how brief a glance. The hot dog vendor on the dorner was closing shop, untying his apron and handing out the last hot dog of the night. The silvery blonde-haired woman that had been staring at him earlier was now talking in hushed tones on her cell phone.

He would remember this in the morning, and he would remember this fifty years from now. If he lived that long.

He glanced down at the girl huddled against the tree beside him. Her face was twisted ever so slightly, bothered by a dream. The soft waves of her orange-blonde hair had grown out over a foot over the past hour. She may not have considered the fact that she wasn't in full control of her talent when she was asleep.

He stared expressionlessly down at her, the warmth in his hazel eyes had disappeared, and the slight smile he had worn all day was gone, leaving his handsome face a blank slate.

The tiniest buzzing sound alerted him to the fact that his 'cell phone' was ringing. He looked down at the message. His father had sent him a coded message. In a split-second, he was swiftly typing a reply.

Another buzzing, and then more typing. Once more, and his father was up-to-date with his progress.

His eyes snapped to the girl as she stirred and gave the tiniest whimper. His eyes did not soften, neither did they harden. They merely raked across her face, assessing the motion. Irrelevant. It was just a bad dream.

He returned to his keypad, resting his head against the tree and hiding the phone in his lap with his face inches from the screen.

Moments later, the slightest whisper of a word escaped from the girl, and his eyes bored holes in her face yet again. The sound had been almost imperceptible, but his trained ear had caught it.

He typed faster, more urgently. Something suddenly made sense, and he experienced something as close to an emotion as he had actually come in a while.

Meanwhile, the girl lying next to him murmured to word over and over, oftentimes loud enough for even a human to hear.

"Blind!"