While Quill was still lost in his thoughts, Rocket Raccoon suddenly turned toward one side of the road and let out a startled cry.
"What was that?"
He asked, but without waiting for Quill's answer, he leaped off Quill's shoulder and ran across the street. Quill had no choice but to interrupt his thoughts and chase after him, because this animal was the only companion he had left.
But after weaving past the cars and reaching the other side of the street, Quill gradually slowed to a surprised halt. Beside the roadside trees near New York Central Park stood a little girl—golden hair, brown eyes, not especially pretty, but little girls that age were always cute.
"God, a living person!" Rocket turned to Quill, though his paw was pointing at the little girl. "A survivor!"
It felt wonderful to see another human here. Quill swallowed and fought down the urge to rush over, because the scene was far too strange. He did not believe such a fragile little girl could have survived this disaster.
He hurriedly grabbed Rocket Raccoon by the tail, tossed him back onto his shoulder, and slowly approached the little girl. Only when he drew close did she notice him. First, she looked confused, then terrified.
The little girl took several steps back, seemingly intending to run. Seeing that she appeared to retain some sanity, Quill could not worry about anything else. He rushed forward and grabbed her shoulders. She began struggling desperately, and the instant she turned around, Quill let go in fright.
Two clusters of tentacles grew from the little girl's back.
Slightly below her shoulder blades, winglike tentacles protruded from both sides of her spine. For some reason, they seemed underdeveloped. There were only a few of them, they did not move, and they