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*prologue*
Sophie falls to the floor pale as a sheet. Everyone rushes to her. Bullhorn lays down next to her and she starts to fade. Their was nothing they could do. If only they had heard her sooner.

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Fitz Keefe and Sandor all rush up to Sophie's room following her long lost foot steps. They knock on the door and there is no answer so they push it open and see Sophie lying on her bed tear-stained and rumpled. She looks so painfully depressed. They had never seen anyone like that. "Hey Foster. You ok?"
"Yeah. I feel great." She almost says it like it is a joke
"You can't lie to an empath..." Keefe mumbles under his breath
"What? Oh, did you want the real answer?" Sophie snaps
"Yea. I did. "
"Honestly?," she looked at the three of them with tears in her eyes, "Mr.Forkle is gone. Gone! My old family is gone! How do you expect me to handle all of this? Do you want to just pretend it never happened? To just move on?!" As she yelled her hands flew around her knotty hair, adding to her crazy look.
Her words started to squash together into one big jumble and she leaned against the wall and slowly slid down running her hands through and gripping her tangled, golden locks. Fitz and Keege sank down on either side of her and tried to console her as best they could, but no elf had ever dealt with someone so  unhealthy sad. It seemed that when she finished a whole ocean had rolled out of her eyes but they didn't care. All they cared about was getting The Great Sophie Foster back. As her small hiccups turned to light snores she fell limp against Fitz's shoulder and he picked her up gently while Keefe pulled back her covers. They left her to sleep calmly in her placid room, hoping that one day she would wake up from the dreadful nightmare she was living in and see the reality that they were there and they cared. What wish could be more impossible?

*chapter 1 rewritten*

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