A Los Angeles Alleyway, Sunday Morning

[psycho_barbie]

Huddled in a doorway, staring blankly ahead, Callisto looked pretty much like an escapee from a mental hospital. The scrubs she'd been wearing were grubby and torn, the fingers of one hand curled loosely around a makeshift stake, and her feet were filthy and aching. Come to think of it, most of the rest of her was aching too.

At least the sun coming up meant she only had to worry about human predators. If she'd actually cared enough be worried that is.