A little boy of no more than 9 or 10 years old stumbled up to the massive estate. His light blond hair was a disaster, sticking out every which way and appearing to not have been washed very recently at all. His green hoodie and brown shorts were dusted with dirt, as if he'd been wandering around the woods for the last day or two... which is exactly what had happened. That, among other things.

[i]Quando tornerò a Firenze, non sono mai riprendendo un aereo.[/i] The boy thought, staggering his way up the dirt road. He felt extremely dizzy and exhausted, probably because he hadn't had any water in about 30 hours. On top of that he was hungry, exhausted and ready to just curl up and die. He was never getting back to Florence. He'd never see his father or brothers again. [i]Smettila. Il pessimismo è inutile.[/i] He scolded himself mentally. If he just died right here, he'd ensure his eternal separation from what remained of his family. Besides, that mansion up ahead looked highly promising....

The little blond finally made made his way up to the huge front doors of the mansion. A couple of women had already gathered on the front step, their vehicles parked in the drive. The small boy kept his distance, looking up at them and the highly impressive building from the bottom of the steps. It just so happened that he was mostly just trying not to pass out at this point.