"Merciful God, who takes and gives life with no regard, I implore you to look on this creation you have bequeathed us, and grant us the wisdom to accept it as it is. Take this simple young man, Jeremiah Ashton, and show him the way to heaven, Lord. And if there be any answers for me, Lord, grant them to me, or strike me down and reunite me with those I mourn for..."
     Kimble's hands trembled for a moment, and he stilled them by folding them together tightly. Then he stood and wandered back to the clearing where the regiment was attempting to regroup. He joined the three other healthy survivors in his company around a small fire where they were boiling apples for dinner. "Dreadfully sweet!" said she.
     A tiny boy with a head like a raisin and a chocolate body came round with a tray of pastries - row upon row of little freaks, little inspirations, little melting dreams. He offered them to her. "Oh, I'm not at all hungry. Take them away."
     He offered them to Hennie. Hennie gave me a swift look - it must have been satisfactory - for he took a chocolate cream, a coffee eclair, a meringue stuffed with chestnut and a tiny horn filled with fresh strawberries. She could hardly bear to watch him. But just as the boy swerved away she held up her plate.
     The smell was good, but it was far from perfection. He had never smelled an aroma as perfect as the color of the sunset the night before.