Peter caught the bus that led him into the south front of the city, where he would buy some essentials and continue on his journey. A child sitting next to him on the bus leaned in with a dumb face and curiously poked Peter's rucksack.

"How many animals you kill to make that?" he asked in a slurring demeanor, simply curious.

Peter leaned back to assess the child with a quick eye, "just one" he said, as he threw the rucksack onto his back and stood to depart at the next stop. A vivid memory hit him as if it had happened moments ago. Joss had wanted children at one time, and he happily obliged seeing how happy the little ones made her. But it was not to be, naturally, for her, she could not conceive and the grieving was immense for the next couple of years. The pain of the memory made his heart sick for Joss, but there is no turning back, until the end. If I ever get there, he thought as the fear and the unknown began to take over.

The bus inched to a stop and Peter turned back to face the little, dumb boy, tipping his hat goodbye. As he did, the child smiled a toothless smile. He swatted at his nose, as if warding off a fly, and turned to look out the window.

"Rockford Fountain Square" chimed the bus driver as the doors opened to the bustling side walks and streets.