Jackdaw opened her notebook again and pulled out three pictures. They were sort of comforting to Daw. Only because they were the ones she looked at the most. Two of the were of Daw when she was six, with her family. The third was more gory. It was of a twelve year old Daw. When she has just been discovered. Wounded, scarred, emotionless. But Daw needed to be nice here. To help people, like she had decided too. She needed to gain back more personality.