<div class="floatleft">(http://img5.imageshack.us/img5/9668/emilylarochez.jpg)</div><strong>OOC:</strong>I was afraid it would be too vague, so I'll mention it. Please note that, in her story, Emily's father doesn't get involved in the problem of the wolves until it attacks the family's livestock herds. He wasn't motivated to get personally involved until they had attacked and killed something of value to him. Also, Emily is a six-year-old girl; didn't get that into the post.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Emily Laroche</strong>, Carriage #2 [Isabella Levoreaux, Ivy Montague, Imogene Campbell, Ashley Browly, Emily Laroche]<br/><br/>Emily Laroche usually stayed out of the conversations of adults. They used big words, and they didn't always seem to value her questions or remarks. Mama and Papa sure didn't, anyway; they left her alone on most days, and even the family's servants gave her a wide berth. And so, even in the tightly cramped coach, the young girl felt alone.<br/><br/>Justine had kind of sprung young Emily on Lilian; a personal favor, and the eldest of the Montague sisters had agreed that she could come along. When the nobles split into their various carriages, however, woman and child were separated. There was room in the other carriage for them both, but Justine had felt the crowd wasn't quite appropriate for her young friend. Emily knew the truth, though: Justine just didn't want to be around her, was all.<br/><br/>Emily held Poppy, her best friend in all the world, against her chest. Muskets. She knew what those were. When the wolves had killed a few of the peasants near her family's estate, Papa had sent his men out to hunt for it. When they began to prey on the family's livestock herds, Papa had gone out himself, with a musket. Though he was many miles away, she heard the booming sound, like thunder on a clear day. Papa had come back with a half dozen dead wolves as trophies, the acrid smell of spent gunpowder clinging to his rough face.<br/><br/>Muskets could make holes in things. Big, bloody, gaping wounds. The wolves had looked so sad, in death. And now, outside, they were talking about muskets. "Don't worry, Poppy," she said, holding her porcelain dolly close, "I won't let anyone shoot you."<br/><br/>After Lilian Montague, Richard Dupont, and Frederick Martin left the carriage, Emily slipped off of her seat next to Ashley, and hid on the floor, against the carriage door. Against the side of the wooden carriage, away from the open window, she thought would be safe. It never occurred to the young girl to consider that bullets and arrows could pierce wood just as they did flesh and bone.