From the outside, the yard is uncared and weeds and vines all around the old house.  It had the appearance that it had been left by some family that had moved and planned to return but at least a decade had not after all.  Purposefully or by tragic, the house had been left with its furniture covered by now dusty white sheets and contents left intact.  Nat had come across it about six months after she arrived in Whitby three years previously, and has made one of the large back bedrooms her home ever since.

Having been raised by the owners of a pawn shop, she had known how to pawn things.  That she had done carefully, only an item here and there and not too soon in the timing.  It had given her the funds for groceries and supplies.  She didn't live rich in any way and used the funds she could earn doing odd jobs more than she used the funds she could use from pawning something in this house.  She didn't want to take these things, and only did so when she needed food or warm things there like that first winter.

Currently, there was a warm fire burning in the bedroom fireplace with a stew cooking on a kettle.  It was just past sunset, and she was relaxing sitting reading one of the books she had found in the library.    She was wearing worn trousers, a long-sleeved thick flannel shirt, her chest was still wrapped tightly from her day of selling newspapers.  Her hat and a thick jacket were over on a chair, but her hair was cut short like any boy might have it cut.  It seemed to be a typical evening for her.