Zane Marcus Tynalie

Thin, scrawny, starving, emaciated. These words best describe the child you see before you... he appears to be only six years old, small and delicate, less than four feet tall. His slender little bones visibly stand out under gaunt, pale skin the sickly white-gray color of skim milk. The child's hair is still lovely, a beautiful shoulder-length mane of golden hair; his single crystaline blue eye, too-wide and shadowed in his sunken left eye socket, stares bleakly into space. Deep purple-blue marks are under each set of eyelids. His thin, bloodless lips are white with a twinge of blue to them. The starving child is dressed simply in a pair of faded blue jeans and a ratty, torn black t-shirt with the letters "JTHM" on the front in bold white lettering, and a small pair of black boots adorns his feet. A single gold earring is in each ear, and a thick leather dog collar, meant for someone larger than himself, is strapped around his slender little neck. The collar is lined with gold studs. The small six-year-old child is shaking, trembling constantly with weakness and starvation, and there's a rather desperate look in the little fellow's single eye.