Piper's feet moved without him realizing it, and he followed unseeing. He felt, occasionally, Shiloh's hand on his sleeve, guiding him, and he wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He kept looking over his shoulder, toward the alley, where he knew the dead man was. He wanted his flute. He patted his pockets, but he couldn't find it, and all he did was make himself even bloodier than he was originally.