Dear Mother in Heavenly Kingdom, perhaps I will soon be able to meet you.
Watching the old Prairie Elf approach him, Donald felt entirely devoid of any desire to resist—even in Mark City, where he would not suffer any harm, if a Prairie Elf was looking for someone, unless he decided to live his entire life in this damned city, there would always come a time when they would catch him.
So, if they had discovered that he was the one who stole from the warehouse, the worst that could happen would be to spend a few years digging in the mines of the Prairie Elves, or to evade Mowish's mad wife and her mad dog.
Of course, the latter half of his thought could never be spoken aloud, or he would be dead for sure.
"Mr. Donald," the old Prairie Elf seemed to notice the vacant expression on Donald's face as he sat down in front of him, "I hear you are from the Abield World, is that right?"
