If someone has ever tried walking through an afternoon gale, they can very well say that it's the same as walking through thick waves of molasses. Add in the fact that October had touched his cold, orange fingers to the earth, and it becomes a hard journey to overcome by oneself.

Rose Dewitt Bukater knew this as well as she knew her own name, as much as she wanted to shove it down a well, and throw away the savior rope. It was that time of day where everything near the Southampton harbor was aglow with autumn color and the earth was bending to the will of the wind. Everyone who passed on the street was tucked deep into their scarves, shoving themselves away from the harsh weather. Rose took her free hand, and pulled her own scarf tighter about her neck, so that if she had tried any more, it would have passed for a hangman's noose.

"Rose, dear, don't pull your scarf so tightly!" Rose looked up, and found the icy eyes of her nanny, Delia. They ran over Rose with caution, her eyebrows rising as she bent her head close to the little girl. "You mustn't do that, young one. Otherwise you'll choke yourself to your death."

"I won't, Delia," Rose assured her in a sure voice. "The cold by itself would have choked me by now, if I wasn't wearing a scarf."

Delia jolted slightly, grasping Rose's fingers like a stinging vice. "For God's love, don't do such drastic things to yourself, otherwise your mother will dock me half a week's pay."

Rose shook her head. "Mother would do no such thing, not if you don't tell her."

Delia sighed, and looked back ahead to the road. "It was a wonderful day for walking on the harbor," she said icily. "If I didn't know better, I would say it was as if you were trying to catch a death of cold."

Rose chuckled. "No, Delia. But it's such a pretty day. Look at the trees. It's almost like they're made of gold."

"Ah, yes, true, true, Rose," Delia sighed. "But you can look at some real gold when we get back to your home."

"But I don't want to look at things like that," Rose protested, pointing further at the trees, bending and rustling altogether. "Delia, don't you think it's pretty when the trees move like that—and with the water in the ocean, too? Oh, you know, Delia? I think something magical could happen here one day. It's such a lovely place here on the harbor!"

Delia looked down on Rose. Rose smiled, and then watched in wonder as some seagulls started a flight high over the harbor, following them until they had flown far away from the ships docked nearby. She turned her gleeful face up to Delia, who started to reach for Rose with careful hands.

"Fix your coat, Rose," was all she said. "And do so gently."

….

Rose breathed in deeply as Delia helped pull her arms through her nightgown. It was of the finest silk and lace, and went right with a red velvet robe—which would be just right for this drafty October night.

"I'm proud of you, Rose," said Delia. "All throughout dinner, you said not a word about our little talk in the harbor."

"Delia, what's the matter with talking about trees?" Rose wanted to know.

"Such talk is for little children," Delia told her. "A girl budding on eleven should understand that we don't partake in petty pleasures like that."

"But…why?" Rose said, turning to finally face her nanny. "I'm not looking for a husband yet. So I should still be able to play like other little girls. I don't even want to get married when I grow up."

In less than a second's notice, Delia's face was turning a bright shade of purple. She thrust her hands at Rose, and plopped her like a rag doll upon her bed with such force that the thick pillows fell onto the floor.

"Miss Rose," Delia said; her face was so close to Rose's that the young girl could see a vein starting to pulse like a purple snake. "You will not—I repeat, not ever—say things like that! Not even in front of me! Do you realize what authority your mother has over such things? I could lose my post here!"

Rose didn't say anything for a moment. She just sat there, her feet barely touching the floor of her grand bed, and looking into the grey eyes of her nanny. The both of them held their stares for a long time, as Rose kept telling herself not to start a tantrum. She didn't like seeing her nanny getting too mad, and she didn't want to see her mother so upset either. All she wanted was to go to sleep in peace.

"Then…I can go to bed, now?" Rose finally asked.

Delia broke off her hard stare, and folded her bottom lip under her teeth, exhaling long and slow. "If you will go right to sleep, and not play with your things like a little zoo monkey."

When Rose nodded her head, Delia pulled back the blankets, and Rose climbed in so as not to upset the make of her bed any more than she had. She closed her eyes right away, before Delia could try to say good night, and so, the icy-gazed nanny left the room, leaving it in the gentle glow of Rose's night candle. The glare of the flame caused the fiery strands of Rose's hair to shine—almost glowing golden red—as the young girl fell into dreams.

…..

A long while after that, Rose found herself feeling almost as if a lightning jolt had gotten her awake. She didn't know how, but she was quickly feeling wide awake, in spite of the fact that her night candle was the only light in her room. It cast a golden glow about the creamy white walls, making the whole place the color of the autumn tree at the Southampton harbor.

Rose flung her gaze to the window, where the curtains were drawn. Curiously, she jumped down from her bed, and crossed the room to draw them back. She was careful, expecting the morning sunlight to blind her.

But all she could see was the gentle dim of the night. The moon gave light to the street in front of her house, but it wasn't like she was blinded. In fact, Rose felt like she was looking at something so beautiful, she could smile.

Except, it was strange. She had slept long enough to feel awake and rested, didn't she? At least, when she had looked at her bed, she couldn't picture herself returning to sleep soon.

But what could she do now? If she was caught wandering about the house, then surely something out of the world of good would happen to her. Still, in looking around at her dolls and china tea set, it didn't seem like something too appealing.

It would be interesting to see if anyone would be awake to share this time. She doubted it, but she liked to imagine it.

Rose stepped into her slippers, pulling her robe over her shoulders. She combed her fingers through her long red tresses, taking her night candle in her hand. With her free hand, she opened her bedroom door, the floorboards creaking softly under her. Rose winced at the sound, but pressed on.

As expected, the hallways were dark, but the moonlight speckled some of the floor with silver, glowing golden under the candlelight. It was a pretty, and yet mysterious sight, mixed with the sounds of the wind in the trees, and the far-off waves in the harbor.

"I wish I could go back and see the harbor," Rose said, placing her candle before her so she could see the window close to her. A ghostly reflection appeared, and the fire of her candle fell upon something moving outside her house—perhaps a sort of animal crawling through the underbrush.

But…no.

Upon further notice, Rose saw a couple of boys—one with dark hair, and another with light—running across the grass, and into the street. They weren't laughing, or being too loud, as Rose might have expected from boys of their age. Actually, they weren't making any noise at all. They were moving soundlessly—as soundless as…as, well…

…as the wind that moved through the bright orange leaves in the trees.

"Could they be ghosts?" Rose asked herself, half in jest, and half in wonderment. She followed the two boys, as they moved across the neighborhood street, upsetting some leaves in their wake, which blew across the street in great bunches.

Rose probably should have moved on from the window, but there was something keeping her there in her place. The way the moon cast shadows across the street, the way the two boys suddenly seemed to disappear from view altogether, it played with her imagination. Until, after a long few moments, she couldn't see them anymore.

Rose craned her head every which way to try to see the boys. But they had vanished. It seemed to Rose as if they had never been there to begin with. But that was impossible. Of course, they had moved without making a noise, but Rose knew for sure that they had been running there in front of her house. And for that, she wouldn't let them get away from her.

With a breath, Rose blew out her candle, and then started down the stairs to the door. Her slippers muffled her steps, even when she was going down the street to find the boys. She got to one end of the street, then wandered to the other, and still, no sign of the two mysterious boys anywhere.

Rose collapsed against a lamppost to catch her breath. The wind was still very, very cold, and Rose had to keep reaching up to fix her hair from whipping her face. She was starting to wish she had never come out here, as well as wishing she had kept a hair ribbon in her robe pocket.

And then there came the rush of movement across the street.

"Wait!" Rose called out, reaching ahead of her instinctively, and starting to run down the street. "Please, will you wait?"

Even though Rose didn't see where the boys went, she followed the direction she had seen them go. The way she was running after something so mysterious as a couple of boys, Rose thought of Alice from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, how little Alice was running after a white rabbit. "Well, in my case, I'm running after two white rabbits," Rose thought with a chuckle.

But then, she fell onto the ground, falling face-first into something crunchy and yet sweet-smelling. The scratchy, dried objects tickled her nose until she had to sneeze. A little dazed, she sat up, dusting herself off carefully; her mother wouldn't like it if she got her robe ruined by going outside.

"Hey!"

Rose looked up at the sudden voice, forgetting where she was, when she found herself facing a blue-eyed boy with locks of blonde hair hanging handsomely in his face.

Startled, Rose jumped, but she didn't scream. She knew she hadn't been dreaming things when she saw the boys.

"Hey, don't be scared of us," said the blonde boy.

"Si," said a voice from beside him. "We won't a' hurt you." A black-haired boy with dark brown eyes stepped up next to the blonde-haired boy. His skin reminded Rose of caramel, mixed with some pure cream, but his accent, she quickly recognized as Italian.

"Where do you both come from?" Rose asked, starting to her feet. "I don't think I've seen either of you before. And what are you doing here?"

"Oh, we're travelers," said the blonde-haired boy. "Me and my good friend, Fabrizio, we like to go different places all the time. You know, having some adventures."

Rose cocked her head in interest. "Really?" she asked. "But you haven't told me your name—you, with the blonde hair."

The boy laughed, casually sweeping aside some stray locks. He took Rose's hand quickly, and pumped it gently for a second. "I'm Jack."

"Jack, hmm?" Rose said. "Fine to meet you. I'm Rose Dewitt Bukater."

"I think I'll have to write that one down," Jack said, chuckling.

"I think it sounds a' pretty, er, Miss Rose." Rose couldn't see too clearly, but it looked as though Fabrizio might have been blushing.

Jack stood back from the pile of leaves, gesturing into the gaping hole Rose had made in it when she fell down. "Still, it's good to see you are here, Rose," he said. "We were making this pile of leaves, and, well…"

"You wanted some child from around here to jump in with you two?" Rose guessed.

"Now that you put it that way…" Jack started to grin.

Rose studied the pile of leaves, and then the two new boys she had met. It seemed odd to find them out at this hour of the night, when half the neighborhood was asleep, dreaming of their safety-vaulted fortunes. Rose had been warned against boys like these—those from not-so-well-to-do families, and who stood in the street corners smoking packs of cigarettes carelessly.

Except Jack and Fabrizio didn't look like troublemakers. Nor did they act like the sort.

"All right," said Rose. "I'll play along. I don't think my mother will be awake long enough to see me play here."

"You mustn't a' worry about your mother," Fabrizio told her. "We won't a' get you into trouble."

Jack nodded his head in agreement as he started to gather some leaves from around him. "Don't just stand around here, you two," he said. "I would appreciate the help."

Rose watched Fabrizio start to pick up some leaves until they were over-piled in his arms. Finally he just dumped them into the bigger pile, and then went back for more. Rose had seen other children doing this, but nonetheless she didn't know if she could do it as well as Jack or Fabrizio. As far as she could remember, she didn't know if her mother had ever let her play in the leaves like this.

"Do you know how this works?" Jack wanted to know, pausing in scooping up the leaves.

"Oh, yes, of course," said Rose. "I just…I…I don't quite know where to begin or, even if I will have as much fun as you and your friend."

Both Jack and Fabrizio stopped what they were doing.

"You mean you never a' picked up the leaves?" Fabrizio asked in wonderment. "And a' put them into piles like a' this?"

"Well….not that I can recall," Rose said, a little timidly.

"No trouble at all, Rose," said Jack. "It's part of the fun. And it's very, very easy. You just take as many leaves as you can find, and scoop them up—" Jack picked up the leaves at his feet, and hoisted them up so that some of them fell to the ground again "—and throw them back into this big pile, so we can use them for later."

"And a' jump into it!" said Fabrizio. In a moment of utter excitement, Fabrizio flung his arms into the air, and all the leaves he had picked up went flying away with the breeze. Some of them fluttered back to the ground, but most of them had gone away.

Rose watched with the same expression of awe as Fabrizio, as the leaves tumbled through the sky. It was like watching a ballet, or a dance, the golden-orange of the leaves standing out in front of the silver-stricken sky.

Rose was caught off guard by a sudden cry of laughter. She looked back beside her, and watched Jack vigorously try to shake a shower of leaves from his clothes. And Fabrizio stood nearby, holding his stomach in a fit of giggles.

"Fabri!" Jack yelled out. "I'm going to get you!" And he began to chase his friend around, constantly throwing his arms into the leaves to throw them at Fabrizio. Rose had to step back so as not to get run over, though it was hard not to laugh. Jack and Fabrizio's laughter was so contagious—unlike any laughter she had ever heard before—a magical sound that sounded like nothing but fun and joy. There was a curious feeling in the pit of her stomach, and at the same time, a great big smile wanted to burst on her face, threatening her composure.

By the time Jack and Fabrizio had chased each other into the pile—or at least what was left of it by this time—Rose was starting to keel over from holding in her laughter.

"Hey, Rose, are you okay?" Jack asked, starting to stand back up. "You're not going to be sick, or anything, right?"

It took Rose several moments just to say, "No."

And so, they sat for a long time, before Rose could put on a straight face. And all the while, Jack and Fabrizio couldn't help but try not to burst out laughing, for at this point, it seemed like doing so would just put Rose over the edge. Jack in particular was having a hard time with it, because he had been in Southampton long enough to see that wealthy girls like Rose weren't subjected to this kind of fun. They walked around with their kid gloves on their perfect hands and their perfect dresses unsoiled—hardly ever allowed to play with kids like him, who had barely touched caviar in his life.

"Roza," Fabrizio piped up. "You have a pretty a' laugh." His face turned a bright pink in light of this.

Rose looked at Fabrizio, her laughter stopping quickly as a breath. She didn't know what to say, as Fabrizio continued to blush the color of strawberries. Jack was also looking at his friend, stifling a laugh.

"Thank you, um, Fabrizio," Rose said. "No one's ever said anything like that to me."

"Not even your mama?" Fabrizio wanted to know.

Rose shook her head.

"Gee, Rose, that's too bad," said Jack. "I think I'm glad I was never rich—everyone must be stuffing their faces with cigars and caviar to notice anything good."

Rose didn't speak for a long time. That was definitely the truth. In trying to become a proper young lady, her mother hardly ever permitted her to engage in matters that she would see children like Jack and Fabrizio doing. But now she didn't know whether she could walk away, or dive right back into the leaves with these boys she hardly knew.

Her eyes wandered to Jack, still quiet, beside her. Something about the way he looked at her told her she could trust him with having a good time. The night wasn't getting any younger, and she had never quite known any boys like him, or Fabrizio. Neither did she ever dream she could ever get the chance to play with such boys.

"Can we play again?" Rose finally said. "I—I'm having a good time with you both."

Jack's face broke into a smile, and he stood back up, helping Rose to her feet with a sweep of his hand. "Why shouldn't we?" he said.

Rose grinned right back, and followed Fabrizio as he dove right back into the leaves. She had gone so far down into the leaves that she found her head completely buried. But even from under there, she could hear Jack yelping in utter happiness while he tossed more leaves on top of her. Rose laughed into the dark of the leaves, covering her head to protect herself from the onslaught of the leaves, continuing to revel in Jack and Fabrizio's laughter.

Rose opened her mouth again in a long, loud laugh, rolling around under the leaves, as something fell on top of her. She gasped quickly in shock, but breathed in relief when she could make out the side of Jack's face in the dim light.

"Sorry, Rose," he said softly.

Rose shook her head to let him know that there was no harm done. Instead, she took a leaf, and stuffed it in Jack's hand, to which he looked quite confused.

"It's a little early for Christmas presents, Rose," said Jack. And so he took some more leaves and pushed them into Rose's arms, grabbing more and more to put on her. Rose laughed and cried all at once, not knowing what to do as she was buried under more and more leaves. She reached out her arms in the hopes that someone might pull her out, but her hands brushed another one—thrusting more and more leaves on top of her.

"Jack!" Rose cried in surprise. "Stop this! Help me up!"

"Oh, okay, Rose," she heard him say. Immediately, Rose held out her hand further and, the moment she felt Jack's fingers close around hers, she pulled herself up out of the leaves. They fell away from her face like a curtain parting before her, where she could just catch a glimpse of Jack's joy-filled face…

…until she felt herself falling in a flash of empty air.

Rose's eyes flashed open a second time, but then snapped closed at the spilling of bright morning sunshine. Quite abruptly, Rose could feel the cold floor beneath her, and upon seeing the sun filter through her eyelids, she felt dazed. What had happened to her? Where was Jack? And Fabrizio?

Raising herself from the floor, Rose felt a rise in her heartbeat as she noticed the bright creamy walls of her bedroom. They were brightening with the rise of the sun, mixed with the golden red leaves in the trees outside, waving like a kaleidoscope. But nowhere did Rose notice a face with shining blue eyes, nor hear an innocent Italian voice addressing her.

Rose looked at her feet. She had been so sure that Jack and Fabrizio had been right there with her. She had touched them when she played with them in the leaves, seeing them gazing into her face. But now they had disappeared into thin air.

Right back into her imagination.

The wind whispered at the window, brushing some stray leaves at the window. The color whooshed past the curtains like a tiny bird, and quickly, Rose faced the wall beside her door. Her shadow marked her position on the floor—the only person standing there—aside from the leaves gliding on the wind outside.

Dejectedly, Rose tightened her nightgown around her waist, about to plop back down onto her bed, when she could hear a familiar sound mixed in with the October breeze. It was high and musical, light and joyful…and it beckoned Rose to come back to her window.

In spite of the high wind, Rose pushed open the doors, throwing the curtains away from the glass. She gasped as her long red tresses were thrust behind her back, the breeze trailing along her arms while she leaned into the dawn. From afar she must have looked like the fairy tale princess about to cry out for her prince to arrive, as her nightgown trailed out majestically like a wedding train.

"Jack, Fabrizio," Rose said into the open air. "I wish you both could have been real."

And so Rose whispered her wish to the air, leaning upon her window, waiting for the laughter to sing to her ears again.