death is a warning sign [solo]

[Vendredi]

Quickly. Before I lose my mind.

Fii creeped into Jaden’s tent on tipped toes, guarding his feet and his breath as tightly as he guarded his mind these days. Quiet as a whisper, he told himself. Jaden was a light sleeper, bound to wake at any hint of noise or intrusion, and Fii could not afford to be caught.

The inside of the tent was small and dreary, with nothing but a sleeping mat upon which Jaden curled. The night was too warm for blankets, and that meant one less obstacle tonight. It took only a moment for Fii to identify his target. He saw the faint shape of it in Jaden’s breast-pocket, a circular bump the size of a small grape beneath coarse cloth.

His target. The amulet.

Jaden never let go of it, and it was always in the other man’s hands, or on his neck, or in his pockets, or tucked deep in the pouch on his leather belt. Fii knew that it was important to Jaden without knowing why. He didn’t need to know why, just that it was precious.

Soft as shadows.

He crept forward a step, then two, keeping on the balls of his feet until he reached the sleeping man’s side. There, he crouched, unblinking. His black clothing were bound tightly to his form, for it would be a travesty if Jaden woke from a stray sleeve.

Fii reached forth with bated breath, and plucked the amulet from Jaden’s pocket with one swift movement. Jaden’s brow furrowed, but his body did not stir. Fii pulled back with the amulet in hand, giddy and a little surprised at the ease with which he had succeeded. Jaden was a light sleeper, but Fii had proved himself lighter still.

His palm molded to the amulet like hot wax, and he held it tightly. The rock was warm in his hands, and a grin stretched across his face unbidden. This was his first successful theft in close to two months, despite stealing from a sleeping man whom he had lived and traveled with for the past three weeks. A success was a success nonetheless, and the giddiness that Fii felt was as much for the amulet in his hand as it was for the fact that he was still capable of his chosen profession.

Then Jaden tossed in his sleep, and murmured something incomprehensible.

The suddenness of the other man’s motion brought Fii back from his headspace. He paled, and the grin was wiped off his face. Now was not the time to be giddy. He was still at risk. Jaden could still wake at this very moment, and the mere thought of that possibility made the young man’s palms cold and his back sweat. His heart was battering twice as fast.

The older man would be validated if Fii was caught. You damned thief, Jaden had roared earlier in the afternoon in the vicinity of every member of the caravan. I’m not, Fii had tried to deny, except he was and the denial refused to leave his lips.

If Jaden woke here, Fii would have no grounds to stand on, no denial to speak of, and that terrified the teen. He was terrified of being found out. Of being thrown out. Of losing the rough camaraderie that he had found over the past few weeks, because this travelling caravan was the closest he had felt to family in a long time.

But Jaden deserves this, Fii thought, his lips thinning to a tight line, mind trying to reassure himself of the rightness of this act, hands clenching the amulet until his nails left marks on his own flesh. He started this.

Fii rose slowly and backed away carefully, watching Jaden and his feet at equal measure. It took six long, slow steps before he reached the entrance of the tent. He pushed back the flap with measured purpose, and ducked under it with swiftness. Jaden did not wake. Fii breathed a sigh of relief.

He did not notice the pair of eyes following him.

[Vendredi]

Outside, Fii dropped the amulet into his back pocket and dropped his guard, letting the giddy excitement of his success wash over him again. He was as pleased as a cat who had found fresh milk. The night was warm, and the moon was a pale crescent in the sky. It was far past the reasonable hour for any man to be awake without reason, and he was the only one who was supposed to be keeping watch tonight.

They had chosen to camp at the roadside for the night, the traveling caravan and their guest troupe both. Around the tents were stretches of grassland, with the occasional birch that dotted the landscape. The men of the caravan expected little danger. Not in this part of Corone, not on wide open plains, not when they were so close to the Bradbury territory. Keeping watch was easy work.

Fii stretched with languid grace as he walked away, heading towards the pit that had held a fire earlier in the afternoon, but was now filled with ashes and half-burnt sticks. There were blankets around the pit, and if he spread them over the ground, perhaps he could sneak an hour of sleep or two before the morning came. In the morning, he would have to find a hiding place for tonight’s loot. Somewhere that could not be traced back to himself. Afterwards, he would stand in the back and watch his handiwork unfold. Claim that the Jaden had lost it. Watch the older man panic.

He deserves this. Fii reassured himself a second time. There was a hint of petulant savagery in those thoughts, even though he knew this was an act of petty vengeance. And I'll give it back. Eventually. No harm done.

So engrossed was Fii in his own world that he did not notice the pair of eyes still following him from behind one of the tents. Nor did he notice when the owner of those eyes glided forward soundlessly until she stood behind him.

Fii had barely taken a dozen good paces when he stopped, feeling the lightest of touch against the back of his hand. A fly? No, the touch was warm. An animal? He stiffened. Before he understood the situation, someone had slipped into his back pocket and pulled out the amulet. Human. He spun around on instinct as soon as he felt the missing weight, to see her --

“Not a sound,” she whispered. “Not a sound, or I’ll scream.”

He closed his mouth and held his silence. A scream now would be disastrous.

They were still close enough to Jaden’s tent that any loud noises would send that man lunging out of his tent roaring, and that would be loud enough to wake the entire world. For a moment, Fii cursed himself for dropping his guard. He should have noticed her sooner, should have scouted the area better, should have ran as soon as he left Jaden’s tent. Overconfidence was an elementary mistake, one that he should have outgrown years ago. Yet, he had found himself making foolish mistakes one after another, had found himself failing and failing fast since he had returned from that place, and he wasn’t even sure if it was due to his own failings or that woman’s curses.

But that was another woman. And that was another place.

Fii stared at this woman, in this place, unblinkingly. He knew of her. Her name was Hellebore and she was always shrouded in black, even beneath the summer days’ sweltering heat. She was a member of the acting troupe that traveled with the caravan, and she felt terrifying. Even Jaden gave her a wide berth.

He was terrified now. Terrified of the possibility that she might actually scream. Damn the caravan master, who had allowed the troupe to travel with them. Damn all the old men in the world. Damn all the hooded women who dressed in black. Damn the overconfident thief who had forgotten to look backwards.

She held the amulet up in the air, and eyed it curiously. “Very nice,” she murmured softly.

He made a snatch for it. She pulled away, and his fingers grabbed humid air.

It was pretty. Even he could appreciate that, despite his disinclination towards women’s jewelry. Warm orange topaz wrapped in a soft nest of silk-thin silver wires, hung upon a weathered leather cord -- it was meant to be worn. The topaz, however, was not perfect. A streak of black ran through its center.

And that pretty little thing was in her hands instead of his. This wasn’t part of the plan.

He was still staring at her. His anxiety sharpened every line and edge of her black hood, and he zoned in on the hint of a face that laid below. His breathes were the only sound that hung between them, his heartbeat the only sound in his own ear. The whole thing was supposed to be a prank, mean but harmless, and he had every intention of returning the rock to Jaden after a few days. Something felt cold at his core. You don’t steal from those who feed you, his mother had warned, years and years ago.

He needed the stone back. He still hadn’t blinked.

“Curious,” she murmured seconds later, thumbing the black streak in the topaz. “Very curious.” Then she pulled the whole thing over her neck, and the orange rock settled perfectly in the crevice between her covered breasts.

He made another grab for her chest. She danced back. Her cowl flapped outwards, and in that moment she looked more like a crow in flight than human. He grabbed thin air and stumbled forward, carried by the momentum of the moment. It took everything in Fii’s paltry bones to maneuver himself into a clumsy twist, and he landed on all fours upon the grassy grounds. The amulet was still not in his hands.

Her lips curled. She looked down at him with something akin to disdain, and he could almost taste her derision from where he crouched at her feet. He could almost hear her unspoken insult. Fool.

“Follow me, and I’ll scream.” she said, with all the majesty of one used to being obeyed. Then she swept away, towards the direction of the tents of the travelling troupe. Her cloak billowed behind her.

Fii blinked at her departing back and felt his eyes ache with dryness. He picked himself up slowly, his pounding heart still beating in his ears, and fear carved his spine into a low hunch. He legs almost trembled. God. He prayed that she would not call anyone. Or tell anyone. The acting troupe set their tents close together and far away from the caravan guards, and that offered him some semblance of comfort that he would be safe for at least tonight.

He slunk away.

Tomorrow. He would find a way to get the amulet back tomorrow.

At least Jaden didn’t catch him tonight.

[Vendredi]

He hadn’t slept that night. Worry kept him awake, and fear kept him alert, and somewhere between the moment Hellebore took off with the amulet and the moment Fii decided to confront her, anger also encroached upon his mind with its trailing tendrils.

She had no right, he decided. Just like Jaden had no right to rage at him in front of every last man alive in this camp on a mere suspicion, not when he had worked so desperately hard to fit and find acceptance, not when the caravan master himself had approved of Fii. Just like you had no right to steal from his pockets, but did it anyways?

His conscience whispered at the most inopportune moments. Fii was well-versed in shushing it.

He made his move before the first peek of sunlight, when the dawn hadn’t had a chance to chase away the crescent moon, and the sky was a mild, bruised purple. With luck, no one would be awake at this hour. With luck, she would not be awake at his hour, and he could perform a repeat of last night’s first act.

He was lucky. During his trek across the caravan’s side of the camp to the troupers’ side, he had kept to the shadows and the thin paths behind the scattered tents and wagons, and that had paid off. He hadn’t crossed a living soul.

Her tent was easily recognizable in the distance. It was black and plain, and looked poor compared to the colorful ones decorated with beads and tassels that the other troupers seemed to favor. The caravan guards’ tents were mostly browns and grays, and Fii didn’t have a tent at all, being the newcomer that he was. Close up, however, the cloth of the black tent looked decadently rich and well-made, and that piqued his curiosity.

He pushed in without warning, and found that he was luckier than expected. She was not in.

The interior of the tent was more comfortable than any that he had seen. The grounds were carpeted richly. There was a bedroll in the center that did not look slept in, a small folding table beside the bedroll, and several small chests that lined one side of the tent walls.

Gut instinct led him to inspect those chests first. If his luck continued, if she had left the amulet in the tent, it had to be in one of these. He felt little hesitancy in picking the locks, and it only took a few movements to open each one. What’s the worst that can happen?

The first and largest of the chests held clothing. Dresses in more styles than he understood, and more materials than he could name. The second one was packed with paints and perfumes for a woman’s face. Fii flipped through both momentarily before closing them again. The third had books in them, along with pieces of dried wood and bundles of herbs, and a few pieces of blank parchments. Curious, but not what he was looking for. He closed that one as well.

Then he got to the last and smallest of the chests. Despite being only two hands’ width, there was more jewelry in there than Fii had ever seen in his life. His eyes widened. Some were trinkets and baubles, but others looked priceless. Pearls and silver and gems of every color, including a few topazes buried deep.

Jackpot.

[Vendredi]

He was digging through the chest when a shadow fell on him, and Fii was as sensitive to shadows as another man would be to a bonfire. A sudden burst of panic blazed through him, and he threw the chest lid shut. By then, the shadow had stopped moving, and its edges outlined the hooded form of a woman.

Of that woman. Of Hellebore.

He had forgotten how silently she walked the previous night. Fool. Panic and dread and fear flickered through his eyes in quick succession, and Fii cursed himself beneath his breath. Damn all the women who dressed in black. Damn the overconfident thief who would not learn.

“What,” she enunciated, syllable by slow syllable, dragging out the tension with all the flair of a staged execution, “are you doing here?”

Her voice was frigid thunder and frozen tundra, and it cracked through the tent like a barbed whip. When it landed, Fii flinched as though physically struck. His face paled to an ashen hue.

“Stand,” she said. “Face me.”

He did. He did it with exacting slowness, as though trying to prolong the seconds before he had to look at her in the face and own up to his actions, because the anger that had been in him earlier was now washed away with contrite shame. He felt like a child who had been caught doing something wrong.

“Open your hands,” she said, when he finally faced her. “What did you take?”

He gulped and obeyed, holding both hands up and looking down at her feet. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all."

She did not respond immediately. He counted the seconds that were ticking by. One. Two. Three. His tension stilled all movements, and he dared not even loosen his jaw.

“Again,” she said, letting the frosted fire in her words flare beneath the veneer of cold control. “What. Did you take?”

His head snapped up to her face, and he found her unhooded. Instinctively, he stepped back, for there was more than anger in her voice now. Her eyes were ferocious black holes that burnt, and in her voice was a power that demanded obedience.

In that moment, the image of Hellebore intertwined and overlaid with the image of another woman. Neamhain. Neamhain the Fae. Neamhain with her sweet words and electrifying rage, who had entranced him and terrified him both. Neamhain with eyes that promised violent power and voice that demanded complete reverence. Neamhain, whom he had half wrecked to get away from, and who had cursed him in return. He could have loved her, if only she let him.

But that was another woman. And that was another time.

Here was this woman, standing at this time. Hellebore stepped forward, and the sudden movement broke his stupor. His eyes flashed between apprehension and guilt and trepidation and then despondence, and he was sure that she could see it all. The trip to the land of the fae had stripped all semblance of pretense from him, and it had been so difficult to hold up a mask of normality since then.

“Nothing,” he said, honest words spilling out of his lips in a flood. “Nothing, I swear. By the Gods. By Y’edda above. Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Her eyes, though. Her eyes did not believe him.

“The amulet,” he cried instead. “I was looking for the amulet you took last night. Believe me. That’s all.”

“The amulet you stole?”

“Yes.” he admitted. Yes, the amulet he stole. Yes, his conscience echoed. Stole. The admission weighed him down, and he looked down once more, thumbs pinching the corners of his black tunic.

He did not see her plucking the amulet from beneath her cloak. She wore it still.

“Why did you take it?” she asked.

Her voice was still cold. He talked. “I meant to give it back. Believe me. Please. It was supposed to be a prank. A joke. Nothing serious. It was a lesson. He hated me. He doubted me. I just wanted -- I just wanted to hurt him a little--”

The words felt weak and flimsy and brittle when spoken. He sounded craven. He sounded feeble. He sounded like a child of three crying foul while snatching another child's favorite toy, and even he himself recognized this.

“I would have given it back,” he whispered, misery coloring the last sentence. “Believe me.”

He felt her eyes on him, judging him, searching and combing through every sentence and every word for the barest hint of dishonesty. She must have found none, for she nodded once. Twice. Slowly. She looked satisfied. He breathed a short sigh. Then worry struck again, and he wondered if she was going to go to Harold now; Harold the caravan-master. Or would she go straight to Jaden? A brick sunk in his heart. Would his efforts during the past few weeks be for naught after all? Were the fae-touched not meant to return to the realms of common man, after all?

Then she spoke, and the words lit a spark of hope in him.

“Two days,” she said. “Come back for it in two days.”

He looked up, confused. The question in his face was obvious.

“There’s a charm on it,” she said, cuttingly. The icy fire in her anger was gone now, but her voice was still cold, there was still annoyance and grump left. “Magic. I’m curious.” Then she swept past him and knelt in front of the chests. “Get out.”

Magic? He did not want to know, and needed no other warning to leave. A quick nod, and he dashed out. Two days. He hoped that Jaden would notice nothing in the next two days. He hoped that he could go through these two days without slipping.

Then a stray thought caught him when he reached the tent flap. Why were you watching me last night? he wanted to ask as he departed that tent, but the last bit of prudence he had left held his tongue, and he said nothing.

[Vendredi]

He sat in front of the fire pit, staring at ashes and waiting for the caravan to rise. The events of the morning jarred Fii deeper than he would care to admit. He felt raw. He felt mentally stripped bare. His skin was too tight and too pinched over his flesh, and everything that he saw now reminded him of those first days after his return from the Otherworld, the land of the wild and the fae.

Those first days were the worst. He was fae-touched and wild, and that was easily recognizable in his eyes. Too wide. Too stormy. He stared too long and too intensely, and all his innermost emotions and thoughts were written on his face. He was so honest and blunt that it was painful. At times, sudden episodes of debilitating terror would strike him in the middle of the day, and he would see visions of the futures as clearly as he saw reality. He was stripped of every ability to function like a sane man, and madness laid in wait at every corner.

Then the memories of the future began fading until they were bare sparks of prescience. That made him better. Then he started to force himself to smile. To look away. To look down. To guard his mind and his face as tightly as he used to guard his wallet, to watch himself and pretend normality. That worked for the most part, but there was always a hint of unnaturalness to him that the careful and the sensitive could pick up on. He could no longer pass through a crowd and not be remembered. He had became memorable, and that meant he was incapable of forging out a livelihood the way he used to, pick-pocketing in the cities and towns.

That had, eventually, driven Fii to look for honest work, and this caravan was the only one that took him on. Three weeks ago, he joined this trading caravan as a scout and a working hand. Two weeks ago, his caravan master allowed the Tantalus troupers to come with them, since both parties were heading in the same direction and there was safety in numbers. Somehow, Fii had managed to get along well enough with both parties, had thought he found companions and a refuge, if only for a little while.

Then this happened.

Fii stirred the ashes with a stick.

***

The sun rose, and within the next hour, the camp had rolled into a flurry of activity. Harold, the caravan-master, was discussing the day’s route with Jaden, the second in command. The caravan guards were packing away their tents into the supplies wagon. The early-risers were tending to the horses. The matron had started another fire over the pit, and was stirring the traveling porridge in a large pot. Fii was with the youngest of the guards, Angus, a brawny boy of Fii’s own age. Together, they moved from wagon to wagon to confirm that the merchandise (jewelry, silks, pearls, wine) were well secured.

On the other side of the camp, the troupers were just as busy.

Fii tried to act as he usually did. Yet, it was more difficult than usual, and he kept on slipping.

When Angus spoke to Fii about his recent infatuation for one of the troupe’s young musicians, Fii was always a beat too slow with his responses.

When the matron ladled porridge into his bowl, Fii found himself staring at her for far too long. She looked at him questioningly until he caught himself and scuttled off.

When they settled on the grass for breakfast, Fii sat a little further from the crowd. The caravan-master’s young daughter came to sit by his side. Amary. She was six years old, a lover of books and flowers, and possibly his favorite person in this camp. She was his usual breakfast companion. He did not speak to her.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Amary accused, flipping porridge at him with her spoon. “Stop it.”

[Vendredi]

“Do what?” he muttered, dodging the spoonful of flying porridge. It missed him by a hair’s width.

“Being quiet,” she said. “And strange. You'll make him suspicious again.”

I am strange, he thought, and had to bite down on his own tongue to prevent the words from slipping. Instead, he looked down and tucked into his breakfast. Beside him, she hummed and did the same.

He had barely finished when Jaden came to him like a raging bull, harsh stomps driving deep into the hard ground. Fii’s heart fell at the sight, and apprehension filled him. Does he suspect me? For a moment, Fii entertained thoughts of running, but where exactly could he go? Hide behind a wagon like a fool, or run away from the camp? The very act of running would cast suspicions upon him, and Fii had hoped to spend the next two days unnoticed.

He was not going to be unnoticed any longer.

Then Jaden had Fii by the collar to pull the younger man up, and the wooden bowl tumbled out of Fii’s hands. Amary scrambled up in distress. Her eyes flickered between the two men. Unapologetic, Jaden pushed Fii back, and succeeded without much resistance. The older man was bulkier, stronger, angrier. He stopped when Fii had been backed against a wagon, and there was no further to go.

“Give. It. Back.” Jaden snarled, spittle flying.

“What?” Fii started, peeking up at the other man’s eyes.

Jaden’s hand slammed against the sides of the wagon, and the whole thing shook and rattled, scraping the skin on Fii's back. “You know what you stole, you thieving bastard.”

Fii shuddered. Yes, I know. “I --”

I what? I nothing. I stole it.

Jaden's volume had drawn a crowd. Almost the entire camp drew in to watch, and Angus was at its forefront. The camp was not so large that any altercation could go undetected, and the whole caravan had learned long ago that Jaden could not tolerate Fii’s presence. He feels unnatural, Jaden had said the night Harold hired the boy. Like a thief.

"I don't have it." That was true. Fii looked down at his own shoe and tried to make myself smaller. I look unnatural. Like I’m guilty. Yet, he could not let the older man see his face, for the guilt would be even more obvious there.

Jaden drew a fist, intent to strike. Fii flinched, and avoided the first blow. Harold, the caravan-master, came running in the distance. Harold was an old man with a stern face and a fistful of white hair. Yet, he was fit beneath his plain clothes, and was not even breathing heavily when he stopped. The crowd parted a path for him, and the old man stepped through.

“What happened here?” Harold asked.

“Bastard took my amulet.” Jaden said, lowering his fist, turning to face the caravan-master. “The one that Clementine left behind.”

Harold’s expression grew grave. Fii shied back. Clementine? The name was foreign to Fii, but all the other members of the caravan seemed to recognize it. The crowd shuffled. Harold’s expression looked grave. Out of the corner of his eye, Fii saw Amary clenching tightly at the matron’s skirts. Who was Clementine?

Then the caravan-master’s attention turned to Fii. His voice was curt. “Boy. Did you take it?”

Fii opened his mouth, and closed it again. He did not look up. The amulet might not be in his hands right now, but he did take it, and he could not deny that. His mouth felt parched. Should he admit to it all, the way he did this morning, in Hellebore’s tent? His mind felt faint and heady. Admit it, and accept what consequences that might come?

Liar, liar, where is your tongue?

His savior came in the form of a voice. A strong voice. A cold voice. “I have it.”

Hellebore strode forward then, with her dark eyes and thundering words, and the crowd parted for her the way it did for the caravan-master. Fii's breath stopped short. Something twisted in his chest. She’ll tell them everything.

Except she did not. “You dropped it yesterday,” she said, going straight to Jaden. The amulet hung from her hand. "I picked it up, but did not realize it was yours.”

Oh. Oh. Fii picked up. He peeked up, brows furrowed, a little confused. Oh. She lied.

Hellebore dropped the amulet into Jaden’s hands without further delay, and the relief was visible on the older man's face. Jaden clenched it tightly, and he thanked Hellebore with a nod.

"Good," Harold said. "You found it." That seemed to have closed the matters in the caravan-master's mind. Harold stepped back, and began haranguing the rest of the camp to go back to their morning routines. They did, amidst whispers and glances at those who remained.

Fii rubbed his wrists while the crowd dispersed. Soon, it was just the three of them. Four, with Amary waiting a few paces away.

Jaden threw one last angry look at Fii. “I’ve still got my eye on you.” he said. “Mark my words. I’ll figure out what you’re after. I’ll run you out of here.”

Oh. Fii flinched. I'm not after anything. Jaden stomped off, and then he was alone with her.

No, not alone. Amary was still there, waiting.

[Vendredi]

He felt humiliated. He felt angry. He felt confused. He felt relieved. He felt grateful.

“Thank you,” he said, looking at her awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

“You’re welcome.” The edge in her voice that made him grimace. It was as though she held her actions against him.

"Did you... find the magic you were looking for?"

"No. There wasn't enough time."

He did flinch then. “Why did you…” His hands fidgeted nervously at his sides. Why did you lie? “Why did you help me?”

“Nothing in your intentions warrants the worst from me,” she said. "You have an audience. Don't keep her waiting."

What that, she must have considered the conversation over. She swept away, heading towards the troupers who had began to gather around their horses.

Fii gazed at her departing back. The woman's words were as cryptic and confusing as ever, and he could not make heads or tails of her words. Then he shook his head, and shook the comment out of his mind. Amary was still there.

[Vendredi]

Amary ran towards him as soon as Hellebore stepped away. Sweet Amary. Pretty Amary. Amary with her books and flowers and soft sweet eyes, who barely reached the middle of his thighs when she stood in front of him. Amary, who dreamed too much and saw too much, who dared not speak to Harold despite the old man being her father, who had better instincts better than any grown man Fii knew.

“You didn’t take it, did you?” she asked anxiously, as soon as she had reached him. “He did drop it, didn’t he?”

He hadn’t expected an accusation leveled from her, of all people, and was caught unaware. Her eyes were bright, so bright, and they pleaded for his response to be a yes instead of a no. Fii sank into those eyes; he was held hostage by those eyes, and they were prying their way into his soul. The breath hitched in his throat. He felt uncomfortably open.

“Did you… did you take it?” she asked again, worry seeping into her words.

He could give her no answer. All he could give her was a helpless look. His silence was confirmation enough.

“You did take it,” she whispered, upset.

“Sorry,” he said.

She flung herself at him, throwing her tiny body against his. Her small fists pounded against his stomach. She packed a punch, despite her size. He folded over at her assault, and her fists reached his chest instead.

“Why?” she cried, lips quivering, eyes welling up with wetness. “Why’d you take mama’s lucky charm?”

Mama? His gut wrenched. But the caravan-master is a widower.

Then she was weeping, burrowed deep into his chest and crying hard. He collected her into his arms, covering her, rocking her, and she trembled and cried harder still. Suddenly, much of this made sense. Suddenly, he felt like he was connecting some of the lines and drawing a part of the picture.

Clementine, Jaden mentioned, and the whole camp murmured. Mama, Amary said. Harold’s wife died a few weeks ago, Angus had whispered when Fii first joined the caravan. Illness. Don’t bring it up. He’s still grieving.

Suddenly, there was no joy to be had in the theft. Suddenly, Fii thought he deserved Jaden’s anger.

He held Amary until her tears ran dry, and she heaved empty sobs. His tunic was wet and clinging to his torso by then. Yet, there were no other comforts that he could offer. “Sorry,” he whispered, and that one word encompassed more than his apology. I’m sorry for everything. How can I share your grief?

"I trusted you," she muffled. "I liked you." She was a child who felt betrayed. She pushed out of his arms in a burst of temper, sleeves covering her eyes, and ran. He let her. He would let her do anything at this point.

In the short distance, the matron waved to them both. Fii watched as Amary landed in the matron’s arms. She was no longer crying. She was wiping her eyes dry. Then the matron led the girl child away.

[Vendredi]

The day went on, despite the morning’s many hiccups. The caravan must still travel to deliver its goods. The troupe must still heads towards its next stage. They were all plodding towards Radasanth with purpose.

“We’ll head towards Bradbury borders. Cut by the lake and follow the river,” Harold addressed both groups together. “That’s the shortest path, keeps to the main road, possibly the safest.” Then Harold turned to the troupers apologetically. “We’ve also got a load of apples to pick up from the Bradbury farms, so that’s another day.”

“Tis alright,” the troupe-master said. He was a bespectacled man in his forties who smiled too much, and Fii had rarely saw that man interact with anyone but his own troupe members. “We’re in no rush.”

There was a round of nods, and then the wagons set forth. First went the six large ones that belonged to the caravan, and then the three that belonged to the troupe. The women and the children rode in the wagons amidst wares and the luggage. The men rode horses or walked. Hellebore had her own horse.

Fii was hired as the scout, and his purpose was to forge ahead of the travelling train, looking out for possible trouble, seeking out the water sources, occasionally hunting for game, and keeping an eye out for good camping spots. The work was not difficult, for the group tended to stick to well-worn roads that were oft-used and ran alongside rivers. There was only once during the past three weeks when Fii had to warn the group of a landslide ahead. Otherwise, the journey had always been smooth. On most days, Angus came with Fii. Gosh, I’ve been dying for someone to talk to, the other boy had whispered conspiratorially a few weeks ago. These old fossils are boring.

***

“Wait up, damn you,” came the cry from his back. Yet, Fii did not stop his feet.

Once he had began running ahead of the main train of the wagons, he could not stop. The frustration and shame that had colored the past few hours drove him forward unrelentingly at a punishing pace. He ran unthinkingly. He ran until the flat grassland around him gave way to trees and a rolling hill that rose up against the road. He ran until the sun was high overhead, and the sweltering heat had drenched his tunic and pants both. He ran until his legs were sore and his lungs were dry were from the vigor of movement. He ran until the burn in his legs seared through his body and into his mind, where it torched away all thoughts.

But the burn could not torch away the wretchedness from his heart.

When he finally did stop, it was well past the noon hour, and he was alone. He ran faster than a normal man, and the long caravan train moved slowly. By now, he could have been miles ahead of them. He was doubled over on the ground, panting into the dirt earth.

“Wait,” cried the voice from behind, a second time. This time, the plodding heels of a horse accompanied the cry.

Fii looked back. A shadow of a form upon a horse was charging forward. A minute later, the form drew closer, and showed itself to be Angus with his auburn hair.

“You almost crippled this horse, you ass,” Angus panted. “I’ve only borrowed it from Harold. I’ve got to give it back in one piece.” The other young man swung off his horse, and landed lightly beside Fii. “Have you ate yet? The matron made me bring you something.”

Fii shook his head. Angus pulled an apple from his pockets, and tossed it Fii’s way. Fii’s stomach rumbled at the sight of the fruit. He caught and bit into it without another thought, sprawling into a sit upon the ground. While Fii ate, Angus tied the horse’s reins around a nearby tree.

“Look here, mate,” Angus said, stretching out beside Fii when the horse had been taken care of. “We wanted to say this earlier, but you already ran off. Look, nobody think you did anything, alright? No hard feelings, eh?”

Nobody did? Fii looked up with a mouthful of fruit. He swallowed. Its juice was sweet in his throat.

“We’re all on your side.” Angus continued. “Well. Most of us, anyways. Jaden’s stressed because she was his sister. He's got a temper, but he's a good sort. That’s the only thing he’s got of hers. You gotta understand that, don’t you?”

She? He looked down and continued to eat. Clementine, he deduced, his mind making the connections faster than he could voice the question. And if Harold’s recently deceased wife was Jaden’s sister, then that made Jaden Amary’s uncle.

And Amary knew that Fii did take the amulet.

I’ll run you out of here, Jaden had promised earlier in the morning.

Suddenly, Fii wasn’t very hungry. Suddenly, the fruit tasted tart. He was not previously aware of that layer of relationship.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Angus asked.

Fii’s response was a noncommittal grunt.

“What, I came all this way here for you, and you’re just going to stay quiet?” Angus said, pushing his face up against Fii’s. Fii pulled back. “My ass hurt from all that riding.”

“So walk back,” Fii said, pushing himself up. He threw the apple core into the trees, and patted the dust off his pants. He was grateful for Angus. Truly, he was. However, there were other things weighing down on his mind.

“That’s it.” Angus stood and headed for his horse. “That’s it, you ungrateful ass. I'm going back. Bet those old fossils are more interesting than you right now. Bet Jaden’s right about you. Hope you run into a rock and die.”

[Vendredi]

There was no real malice in Angus’s last words, and Fii supposed he should be grateful for that. Yet, someone up there seemed to have half-answered Angus’ curse.

Fii did not run into a rock. He walked into one.

Later, he would blame the heat and hunger and humidity and his own angry thoughts, all of which had contributed to his mind blanking out midway through the afternoon. He had only an apple since the morning, and no drink of water. That he lasted so long was itself a miracle.

He began running again after Angus left, in hopes that movement would wipe the creeping thoughts away from his mind. He remembered picking up a handful of berries that were terribly sweet. He remembered thirst. A hour beneath the beating sun and the humid noon had resulted in a white haze glazing over his mind, fogging his sight and dimming his hearing. The world itself seemed a faint, faraway thing. Then he walked into something awfully hard.

***

“Stay down,” said a voice as soon as Fii opened his eyes.

He woke up in a familiar tent. The walls were dark, but the insides of the tent was brightly lit with a pair of candles, which stood on a small folding table to the sides. Fii laid upon a nest of bedding in the middle of the tent. There was a wet towel on his forehead. His throat was parched and his lips were cracked, and he had a headache that seemed to spasm right down to his neck. But he tried to sit up anyways.

Amary crouched beside him, and watched him nervously. “I forgive you,” she blurted out as soon as Fii struggled up onto his elbows.

He turned to her slowly, confused.

“I’m sorry for being angry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to leave like mama did,” Amary said. “Are you mad at me?”

He looked up towards Hellebore, who pressed a cupful of water into his hands. She leaned down beside Amary. “Drink that,” Hellebore said.

He drank. It was bitter, like salt and sugar together. He made a face and passed the cup back.

“They found you at dead faint on the side of the road.” Hellebore explained, pressing him another cup. “Dehydration. You could have been mugged. You probably were mugged. Were you trying to kill yourself? There are easier ways to die.”

“Jaden had to carry you back,” Amary continued. “Angus said you deserved it. I stepped on his toes and now he’s mad at me.”

“Why am I here?” Fii asked, once his tongue felt less thick and his mind was clear enough to work through the two female’s words. Jaden's your uncle. Why aren't you angry?

“Because I’m the only one in this damned camp who knows anything about dehydration,” Hellebore grumbled. She passed him more water. “Drink it all.”

He was a little bewildered by the situation, but grateful for the attention. Hellebore seemed a lot more approachable now than she did this morning, possibly because she was holding nothing over his head at this moment.

“Do you forgive me?” Amary asked, tugging on his sleeves. Her voice quivered with frantic fright."I didn't want you to leave... to leave me like mama did. I don't want anyone to leave like mama did."

“Yes,” he said, ruffling her hair. There's nothing to forgive. Then he paused. But do you forgive me? He clutched the cup in one hand and licked his lips. Then he spoke the truest words that he had ever spoken. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry for everything.”

“I didn’t tell anyone anything.” The girl buried her head into his lap. The heat of her cheeks were warm against his thigh. “I want you to stay with me. You’re the brother I never had.”

“And you’re the sister I never had,” he said, watching her softly. Warmth spread through him like ginger wine on a winter night. Amary’s loneliness was visible to all those with eyes, for she was the only child in a caravan crew of large men and one elderly matron, and her father was far too busy to be by her side often. She had one friend in Angus before Fii came along. She accepted him and everything that he was when he could not accept himself. He never meant to betray her trust.

“Tell me a story tonight. Of the boy who stole the moon.”

“After dinner,” he said. His stomach grumbled at that thought. To the side, Hellebore looked up and took his cup.

[Vendredi]

Amary accompanied him during the short trudge from Hellebore’s tent to the center of the camp, where the matron was ladling out stew from her boiling pot. That night, members of the caravan were quieter than they usually were. Fii felt eyes on him as he walked.

The camp was set at the foot of a hill, in a small clearing surrounded by trees on one side and the road on the other. There was a rock pillar along the road, a marker that indicated that they were at the edges of the Bradbury territory. Per usual, the fire was lit in the center of the camp. The men and women of the troupe and the caravan sat on boulders or on the ground, or wherever they could make space between the scattered tents.

Angus was sitting alone, slumped against a tree. Fii found a spot beside Angus, and Amary came with him. Then Fii tried to apologize, but Angus made a face and turned his back against Fii.

“You ignored me first, bastard. Let me ignore you now. Let me. Please.” Angus said.

There was no bite in those words, and the humor was easy. Fii shrugged and sat down to eat, a quick grin spreading on his face as he glared intensely at his stew. Suddenly, he was ravenous. Good. He doesn’t blame me. The easy companionship of the crew reminded him of a home that he had left a year ago, and now missed dearly. If he could, he would love to preserve this easy relationship forever.

***

“Baneberries,” Hellebore said, inspecting the small white berry. “Sometimes called the doll’s eyes berries. A handful can kill a grown man. Two’ll be enough to kill a child.”

Jaden drew a sharp breath, and eyed Fii with suspicion. The amulet in his hands glowed eerily in the evening’s dark. The man stood at one side of the impromptu triangle. Hellebore was at its center. Harold had his arms around Amary at a second corner, and Fii rounded up the last.

The look on Harold’s face was grave concern and barely veiled anger, which served to line his wizened face even more harshly than usual.

Hellebore crushed the berries in her fingers. Her eyes passed between Fii and Amary. “How many did the two of you eat?”

Amary looked at Fii queasily. “None,” she said. “But Fii had a few.”

Silence hang over the group. The cool evening wind swept through the clearing, and Fii trembled with it.

“Foolish,” Harold snapped. “Did neither of you check with Jaden or I before touching those? Don’t touch what you don’t know while you’re on the road.”

Amary shrunk back, and her father grasped her tightly. Fii wanted to do the same, but there was nothing behind him other than bushes and rocks and the shadows cast by nearby trees. Instead, he shrunk down upon himself, staring at his shoes again. His lips tasted bitter, like gall.

He had chanced upon the berries after dinner, after Angus had stalked off alone. Don’t follow me, the other boy said, and Fii listened. Then Amary demanded her story. They found a quiet spot to sit, and there were berries beside them. He hadn’t thought much of it, and plucked a few to share with Amary. Then Jaden ran over with his glowing amulet and roaring voice, and slapped the berries from Fii’s hands.

Jaden looked at Fii suspiciously. “Or did you know what they were? Were you trying to poison her?”

The shock that sprung through his system was real, as was the injustice he felt at being accused thus. Fii stared straight at the other man, and kept his face artfully blank, because if he did not, he would rage. Jaden had always thought the worst of Fii, but Fii hadn’t realized just how lowly the other man had thought of him until this moment.

And yet, he had almost poisoned himself and Amary both. And yet, Jaden had carried him back to the camp earlier during the day, after he had collapsed beside the road after running off alone. Both thoughts made him feel guilty.

Jaden stared back, unrelentingly, as though challenging Fii to defend himself against the accusation. The man’s gaze was strong, and the amulet in his hand seemed to buzz with an unknown power.

“I did not,” Fii said, softly, but clearly. “I’m sorry. I should have known better.”

Hellebore glared at the two of them, and broke the tension. She tsked impatiently. “Blame him later. Apologize later. How many is a few?”

The sudden question brought Fii back. He had to think about it. “Two?” he guessed.

“Two,” she repeated, eyes on Fii. The weight of her stare made him step back, uncertainly.

At one side, Jaden snorted. Harold pulled Amary closer into his grasps, Amary stole peeks at Fii.

“What can we do?” Harold asked.

“Nothing,” Hellebore said. “Nothing here, because we have nothing. Pray to your gods. He’s sleeping in my tent tonight. Pray that he only had two. Then he might have a chance of waking up tomorrow. We’ll find somewhere to dump his body if he doesn’t.”

Amary flinched. Fii flinched with her. Harold pulled her away, and gave Fii a look of almost sympathy. Fii felt sick to the bottom of his stomach, and he wasn’t sure if it was for himself or for Amary. Two could kill a child, Hellebore had said. Fii flushed green.

“We’ll make sure everyone else knows not to touch it,” Harold said, nodding at Jaden.

[Vendredi]

“Did you do it on purpose?” Hellebore asked, when Jaden had went away to warn the others, and Harold pulled Amary away to his tent.

The flash of anger was quick and hot. “No, I -- “

“Two,” Hellebore said, cutting him off. “Are you sure?”

Hesitation replaced anger. I’m not. “I am.”

“Dizziness,” she said, glancing at him and signalling him to walk with her. “You’ll feel confused, incoherent. There might be sharp pains at your temples, and you might see white fire dancing. Then your lips and throat will be parched, possibly constricted. You won’t be able to swallow. Your abdomen will begin to burn, and your kidneys will hurt. Your heartbeats will be irregularly and fast. Then you will be weary. Verily so.”

He gazed at her as they walked through the camp, confused with an ominous sensation creeping up his spine.

“These’re the recorded symptoms,” she said. “And if you’re lucky, you’ll wake up from it.”

If I’m lucky, he thought. He tried to swallow down the ball of anxiety pushing up his throat, but could not. He tried to quell the rapid beating of his heart, but could not. He tried to flex the bones in his thin fingers, but they felt stiff, as did all the bones in his ankles and toes and spine. He gulped, and that went down, mercifully.

They drew close to Hellebore’s tent. Y’edda save me.

***

The night went well, all things considered. Fii did wake up the next morning, to his own great relief, despite being ravaged to the bone by the poison. Every bone in his body felt soft, and every muscle felt like they had been through a meat-grinder. The push to sit upright was an uphill battle. Wrestling with the prospects of his own mortality was an experience that Fii hoped to never repeat.

Am I prepared to die? No. I’m not.

I’ll apologize to Amary again, he decided when he had finally managed to sit up. He stared like an idiot at his own feet. And Angus. And Hellebore. Even Jaden. Hellebore rushed to his side, and the speculative look on her face made him turn his face away.

“Drink this,” she said, pushing a wooden bowl into his fingers.

“What is it?” His voice was a bare rasp. The contents smelled like woodbark and sewage. His nose twitched, but he drank it anyways. It tasted no better than it smelled.

Yet, the effects of the brew was undeniable, and it blasted a hole through the fog covering his mind. Moments later, he was conscious enough to understand his own jumbled thoughts.

Thoughts that consisted of leaving. Thoughts full of self-deprecation. My fault. My fault. Everything’s my fault. Nothing good followed his footsteps. He had seen more misfortunes than he could count on both fingers in the past year. He had almost brought another tragedy to this caravan. Perhaps he was marked. Cursed by the fae whom he had almost destroyed. Perhaps he should leave.

“Take a walk,” Hellebore said, plucking the bowl out of his fingers. “Fresh air will be good for you. Get some food into your body. You’ll need it.”

He nodded without thinking, and allowed her to push him up. She supported him through the short walk out the tent, and helped him settle on a log outside. Throughout it all, her expression was inscrutable.

***

The morning air was humid and warm. His eyes lingered on the dew drops that spotted blades of grass. To his left, a ladybug took flight. Suddenly, he was back in the Otherworld, in the land of the fae, where colors were more vivid and the world more real. Then Amary shuffled to his side, and sat down beside him. There was a book in her hands, and she laid it open on her knees. Neither of them spoke. She read while he sat, staring at faraway trees. He found the air hard to swallow.

Moments later, Amary peeked up at him shyly. He dodged her eyes. His fidgeting fingers picked at the grass and wild summer flowers, and wove a crown of flowers and grass. He felt her eyes following his fingers.

“Can I have that?” she asked.

The smile that slipped out was unbidden and genuine, and he offered her the crown. She clapped in delight. He laughed.

Perhaps he should leave. But I don’t want to.

[Vendredi]

The first drops of rain fell when they were breaking fast. Then came the downpour, and that did not stop. Not the next morning, or the one after, or the one after that.

For three days, they pushed through the storms, weathering the cold and wet misery. Dirt ground turned into mud beneath their feet and wagon wheels. Rocks and grass roots slid from where they were previously buried, and found new homes in the mud pools and water puddles. The tents would not hold their shape, and there were few trees and no rock walls that could serve for shelter. There was no fire, either, and that meant cold rations. The horses began stumbling by the third day. The journey had became dreadful.

Tempers were frayed at the edges. The only saving grace was that Jaden’s attention was off of Fii. Fii should be grateful, but he could not. Not when he was standing in the middle of a downpour like a drowned fox.

“Goddamn it,” Angus cursed, passing a metal rod to Fii. “Help me pry this --”

More curses. This time, Fii joined in. A wagon wheel was stuck in the mud, caught on rocks and tree roots. The matron shot them a dirty look from her spot inside the wagon and blocked Amary’s ears. Fii looked up apologetically, before turning his attention back to the wheel. The rod was ice-cold between his fingers.

To one side of the road, Harold and Jaden had their heads buried in deep conversation. Soon, that conversation grew louder, and their words carried despite the rain.

“We need to slow down,” Jaden warned. “You’ve been pushing too hard.”

“Two days to the orchards. They have a trading post. Our men can rest there.”

Trading post, Fii thought. Shelter. Shelter would be nice in a weather like this. His fingers were too numb for his grip to hold, and and the metal rod slipped out of his fingers. He cursed beneath his breath and sank his fingers into the mud to retrieve it.

“Two days when weather is clear,” Jaden’s voice was harsh. “With our horses in this state? With our men in this state? We’re looking at four, at least.”

A pause. Then Harold said: “Two. We’ve done it in two before. The ship’s docking in a week at the harbour, and it’s going to turn around and leave if we’re not there. We don’t have four days.”

“Damn it. Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Damn it, Fii echoed, as the wheel jerked up and forward under Angus’s and his combined efforts. His arms were strained taut from the weight. In front, the horses took tentative steps, and the wagon began to move.