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ky Blue did not question who he was driven to aid. He never did, having never done so.

After all, Sky Blue would find it abherrant to question His Creator.

He thought, like those he aided, as Sky Blue had not been made as mindless drone.

A drone would not be able to intepret the instructions provided, as His Creators agent.

Thusly, Sky thought.

On this occasion, he thought and had doubt.

He had fallen into a dark place, wherein the gloom hid it's occupants.

Sky listened to the dark and, stared towards where he heard the sound of breathing.

Then after several long seconds, he stepped toward the sound.

It only took a few steps.

Then he knelt, his knees falling to a hard wood floor, seeking the small torch from the right hand pocket of his long grey coat, that he had grown to like very much over the aeons. It suited him and, He liked that.

The colour, it's texture and, the way it moved, satisfied him.

It was Him and part of him, which had appreciated since His creation.

Sky Blue shone the beam toward the wooden cot at the far end of the small bedroom, where he heard small choking sounds.

Then walking briskly to the cot he directed the beam onto the child face red, as it sought air, with a blanket tightly wrapped round its neck, which Sky moved quickly to remove.

As the child breathed properly again, he moved away from the cot, confident that he had done as His Creator intended.

Having easily passed the childs parents, who had been sitting before an open fire, Sky Blue left Salzburger Vorstadt 15, Braunau am Inn, Upper Austria,into a dark, damp night.

It was 1890 and, the young child would live to affect many, until his eventual death in 1945, at his own hands, in Berlin.

Sky Blue sighed, he was His agent, yet still the doubt persisted. He sighed again...

The Creator could not be wrong, Sky assured himself shaking his head.

And for a moment Sky Blue knew regret.