<hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Albert & a passel of kids<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Whippersnappers<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 15th<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Jones' Mercantile & Trading Post<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Jaelyn, open<br/><hr/>The small knot of children may their way through the streets of Gomorra and in passing, folks likely would think they were up to their usual mischief unless a moment was taken for a closer look. The children moved as quickly as they could, grim-faced and silent, the happy din of laughter and boisterous shouts that normally accompanied their passage noticeably absent. Even more peculiar was the boy at the center, his face white as a sheet and his gait a cross between a shuffle and a stumble, his little legs moving slowly like he was wading through tar, by now mostly being moved along by the biggest of the little pack who had a firm hold on the boy's good arm. It was the bad arm that was the problem. It  hung at a strange angle and the boy's sleeve was soaked with blood that ran down his arm to drip from his fingertips, leaving a trail of droplets in their wake. There weren't many in Gomorra but occasionally they would pass a concerned adult who would call out to them but the children were having none of it and danced around any attempt to impede them, single-minded in their purpose. And so the little procession wound up on the walk in front of Jones' Mercantile & Trading Post whereupon the injured boy just sank to the planks. He was played out, that was clear, from the clammy, pasty skin of his face, the sweat-dampened tendrils of hair sticking to the side of face, and the rapid, shallow way he was breathing, wincing every time he inhaled. Two of the children stayed with him but the rest went barreling into the store, all of them hollering at once so it was hard to say which one was saying what.<br/><br/>"Miz Jones! Miz Jones! Albert's hurt bad..."<br/><br/>"He was climbin', Isaac dared him..."<br/><br/>"I didn't know he would fall! That don't matter anyhow..."<br/><br/>"The bone is stickin' outta his damn arm!"<br/><br/>"Don't cuss, she's the church type. Miz Jones, Albert said he had to come here, you would make him feel better..."<br/><br/>"Didn't want no other doctor..."<br/><br/>"He's breathin' kinda funny, you better come out!"<br/>