Holding her grandpa's hand, she climbs her way up onto the luxurious bureau. 'Alright, Jess, now before we start drawing, remember, first we clean our hands. No cake crumbs, no cookie crumbs.' 'I did! What are we gonna draw, Grandpa?' 'Ooh... lookit here, I got a certificate, from when ol' Grandpa came back from the frontier. But they forgot to draw me a darn picture of the place. How about you help me fill that in, Jessica?' 'Uhh... I've never been to the frontier, though...' 'Your brother and your sisters went a whole bunch with your dad, didn't they? They ever tell you what was out there?' 'They said the frontier's got nothing, but also said it's all... 'ripe for the picking.' I heard that, Grandpa, 'ripe for the picking,' but how do I draw it? I'm kind of lost...' 'Aw, heck, they love to teach you some strange old words. Say, forget that, how about you draw something the likes of which they've never seen. I'll teach you. Remember how I told you of the Seven Bastards of the wastes, those catapulting Liberi robbers?' 'Oh, yeah, yeah!' 'Remember what that big ol' cactus was shaped like?' 'Huge in every direction, like a mangler!' 'Remember why tumbleweeds make a good wild bonfire?' 'They're brambly and thin and they catch with a spark!' 'Remember how to ride a burdenbeast?' 'Pull the reins tight and straddle that saddle!' 'Attagirl, Jessica. You always wanted to know more, see more, just like your brother and sisters? You ask me, I bet my bottom dollar you'll be just like them once you're as grown up as them, oh the things you'll know and see. But Grandpa's personal little tales, I've not yet told a soul but you, Jessica. They don't know 'em—heck, your dad doesn't know 'em.' 'Okay! When they come back, I'll tell them, then I'll show them my picture, and it's gonna blow their socks off! 'Wow, Jessica, you heard stories we never got to hear!'' ...... She pulls the burdenbeast's reins, straddles the saddle, and unfolds an old sheet of paper in the light of the sinking sun. Just about below the edge of the wastes, its last warm rays shine through the paper. A sheen, she might swear, casts over faded fountain ink. The old man trots his burdenback alongside her. She yanks the reins tight, and settles back in her seat. 'What's that you're peeking at, Jessica?' 'It's... a picture, something I drew when I was real young, of the frontier.' 'You came out here as a kid? Never mentioned that.' 'No, I just had someone describe it to me. Held my hand while I was drawing.' 'Not half bad, all things considered. Hell of a 'canvas' too.' 'This is his certificate, the one who showed me how to draw it. He was my grandfather.' 'Your grandfather. A hero of the states?' 'Yeah... a hero of the states. And a hero of mine.'