Across the dirt road wasthe ancient, gnarled pear tree, and the dryad padded quietly over,looking around. Ever since the change she had experienced od...d momentswhere she could understand the rustling in the trees, the wind in thegrass and the creaks of ancient wood. It was a primal understanding, notany form of coherent language, but it still unnerved her. She was stilla dwarf at heart, born and raised deep beneath the mountains, and theopen forests that now considered her a friend were still. But it wasn't her physical beauty that held me transfixed. After all, we had gone to the same school since kindergarten, and I had seen her regularly for years. The insight with which Ursus was supplying me, though, forced me to look at her with new eyes. She was one of the best students in grade six--one of the brains who had assembled in Mr. Dean's class. From hearing her read the occasional essay aloud, I knew that she could write. She even once had rendered in rhymed couplets a report on. Add all of those thousands of miles Lindsay spent flying in the air earlier today to the bumpy boat ride, and I believe that it would be safe to assume that she was feeling a bit nauseated right now. I felt very concerned, naturally, and promised her that we would reach our island destination soon. As luck would have it, Lindsay actually dozed off for a good 20 or 30 minutes near the end of our cruise. What a sweet and touching sight it was to see her seated on a side bench, her head resting. " Hecould tell that she couldn't stop the tears at all. "'What happens whena super hero and a psycho meet in a warehouse?'" Huh?" That was the joke. 'What happens when a super hero and a psycho meet ina warehouse?' The worst part was the punchline." You don't have to say anything else." No... I don't... because this," she motioned to her injured body, "wasthe punchline." He let her sob for awhile after that, and then shefinally said, "Don't let my mom come in here. Not yet. Not until I'vehealed.