10:25 am, November 10, 1953
Elsmoore Grammar School
Factory District, Detroit, Michigan
Children frolicked in the snow that had gathered in the playground, having snowball fights and making snow angels and building snowmen. The sounds of those little voices filling a space that had been so empty and derelict only a few short weeks ago was music to the ears and warming to the heart, but especially to Alicia Grey. The gleeful squealing and playful noises breathed life into a once lifeless place, creating a sense of peace and joy that was just in time for the Christmas season, which was now only a month away.
"The sun has finally come out," the old doe said happily. Blacksad and Weekly were beside her, watching with broad smiles as they beheld the scene before them. "In the old days, we thought all problems could be solved so easily."
"No doubt," Blacksad replied. "Don't give up, Mrs. Grey. There are too few people like you in this world to teach these children to live without hate. Perhaps with them as its inheritors, this district and the even the country will become the dream once more."
"One can only hope so, Mr. Blacksad," said the doe, taking his hand in a grandmotherly fashion. "Goodbye and good luck in your travels, wherever they may take you."
Blacksad took her briefly into his arms. "You too, Alicia. And thank you." Weekly followed after shaking her hand, then took a snowball to the back of his head behind his right ear. He cried out, grumbling to himself as he rubbed the point of impact. Blacksad looked back and saw Kylie standing there, her expression clearly saying that she recognized him. Blacksad's lower lip trembled before he turned and walked away, unable to face the girl and tell her that she was now an orphan.
He and Weekly walked to his car, where the weasel removed his cap and shook his head. "Calm down, Week," the cat said with slight amusement. "I see you hate snow just as much as water."
As they climbed into the car, Weekly answered, "Well, I do owe you something for saving my life. Let me tell you a secret."
"Astound me," Blacksad droned as he slipped the key into the ignition and started the engine.
"Well, the truth behind my nickname is that the secretary made a joke that I only change my clothes once a week. I don't have a reputation for being very clean." Weekly wanted to melt into the seat and disappear for his embarrassment.
There was a moment of silence, then Blacksad burst into a fit of raucous laughter. "Thank you, my friend!" he said, slapping the weasel's shoulder. "You've just made my day!"
