[She hesitates, not sure of what to tell or how to really do this. It's another life skill she hasn't had to use in years, and sometimes it's hard, to think of how much better things had been before she'd almost killed her sister.

Dillon looks a little like Anna, superficially. They're around the same age, too.

So finally, she sits down next to him, arranges her skirts carefully and tries to focus on the story, not on what Dillon had told her or how uncomfortable she feels. He'd helped her, when she'd been miserable, even though she'd been uncomfortable.]

One day, a fox was boasting to a cat of its clever devices for escaping its enemies. "I have a whole bag of tricks," he said, "which contains a hundred ways of escaping my enemies."

"I have only one," said the cat; "but I can usually manage with just that."

A moment later, they heard a howling pack of dogs coming towards them, and the cat immediately climbed up a tree and hid herself in the branches.

"This is my plan," said the cat. "What are you going to do?"

The fox thought first of one way, then of another, and while he was debating the hounds came nearer and nearer, and at last the fox in his confusion was caught up by the dogs and soon killed by the huntsmen. The cat, who had been looking on, said: better one safe way than a hundred on which you cannot decide.