The sunlit clouds drifted in the clear blue sky as Kyle plopped down on top of the checkered blanket unfolded on the neatly manicured grass. He sighed and wiped the sweat drops onff of his forehead with the back of his hand. Knitting his eyebrows in concentration, he opened his sketchbook, determined to finish his drawing this time.

When he was done and thought his drawing looked pretty decent, leaning back to contemplate his chef d’oeuvre, he smiled in satisfaction.

Now, he was left with the most important task, also his favorite, coloring. He rummaged through his canvas backpack and took out his pencil case.

He was busy coloring and foreshadowing when a figure darkened his sight. Frowning, he dropped his pencil , and looked up.

Who dared disturb his artsy moment?
"What do you want?" he asked.

He lifted himself up on his feet, and stared down at his cousin.

The little boy shifted his weight from aone leg to the other, then scratched his head, hesitant. andHe stared at the grass around them with wide open eyes as if it contained all the secrets of the universe.

When Nathan bothered him, it meant only one thing,: he had gotten himself into trouble.

Kyle turned his head and glanced around in search of his mother, or his big brother, anyone who would help them.
If he could asked an adult for help, he wcould go back to his drawing, and they would fix everything, grown -up style. No tears nor blood would be shed.

But he didn't see anyone in sight who would be helpful.

He collected his crayons, snapped close his sketchbook. He threw them into his bag, and slung it over his shoulder.
It wouldn't be the first time he fiound himself in this kind of situation, where he hasd to swap his little boy costume for a superhero one.

After prompting his cousin to speak up once, he convinced him that he wasn't angry, just a little bit annoyed, — not at him, though.

Nate told him the whole story with a wobbly voice and big puppy eyes filled with tears ready to drop at any moment, while they walked to the crime scene on the other side of the park, where he doesidn’t go. It' was well known, that only babies went there and old people who feed pigeons and watch ducks swim in the lake went there.

They stopped under the oak tree.
Kyle looked up, taken aback by the tree’s current state. It had been a while since he chad come here. In his memory, the old tree was huger and more imposing.

Up the tree they climbed, and entered the tiny house. They found the casualty curled up on himself in a corner.