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[indent][color=b3c1ce][b]"Don't worry, Georgie. I'll be fine,"[/b][/color] Milo said, standing. He slung his knapsack over his shoulder and patted Georgie's hand. She was a fine lady – with a neck that shot off crookedly, and white, bristly hair crowning her head. Her eyes, though wild and brimming with an air of desperation, crinkled kindly at the edges when she smiled at Milo. [b]"You're always welcome back here, Brooky. Y'come home if they don't wancha, see?"[/b] 
[indent][color=b3c1ce][b]"You take care of yourself while I'm gone. Don't lay too heavy on the gin, now."[/b][/color]
[b]"Aw, scram, kiddo."[/b][/indent]

That was the last conversation Milo had. He was given several tokens of remembrance by the occupants of Dead Town – a pair of boots, an old whittling knife, a raccoon tooth. Georgie had carved him a little necklace pendant from a gopher's skull and painted it in – a simple squarish piece with two overlapping, nested triangles on it, to match his neck brand. The boots, though old and busted through in the toe, proved very useful in the 2 day trek to Paradise Land. Though he couldn't feel any pain, the boots made it easier to scale the rugged terrain. Often while walking he would whistle, or talk to himself. Make up stories and tell them in all their exaggerated grandeur to an audience of only dirt and the occasional snake. But he was content – if not excited. Every step brought him that much closer to the looming mass in the distance: [b][i]Paradise Land. [/i][/b]
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[indent]By time Milo reached the walls, his feet were bleeding, his face was dry, and his eyes were squinched up to almost nothing against the blazing sun. The boots had taken to collecting buggers – annoying desert insects that chewed away at Milo's feet. He had to empty his shoes of sand and buggers nearly every twenty minutes. This led to a fantasy that Paradise Land had – what did Lech call it – Grass? Small, green plantage that was comfortable against the toes? Something like that. Maybe nobody even wore shoes. Maybe they had environmental conditioning! Maybe it was cool inside the walls! Oh, man. His pace definitely picked up with that thought. However, he was immediately confronted with a problem – there was no door on this wall.[i] Perhaps it's a secret door,[/i] he thought. He walked the whole distance of the wall, running along it with his fingertips, but no door, secret or other. He moved on to the next wall, and the next. No doors. [i]I'm beginning to think all the people here are either fairies or ants.[/i] A few shots rang out from the top of the wall, and immediately Milo lifted his head. Flares of various colors soared in multiple directions. A few shouts followed. [i]Some hullabaloo. Maybe they can let me in.[/i]

[color=b3c1ce][b]"Halloa up there!"[/b][/color] he yelled. No response. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted again, [color=b3c1ce][b]"HELLO UP THERE!"[/b][/color] One head poked over the ledge, and Milo waved his arms in response. [color=b3c1ce][b]"Do you happen to know where the door is? I can't seem to find it, and I'd really love to come in, if you'd have me!"[/b][/color]

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