Snow Day

by Shipwright's Trick

The title basically says it all. Pre-movie. Featuring all our stitchpunk friends...except 9, of course. Other than that, you'll have to read and see! No more, or I'll give the entire thing away. Does NOT contain romance.

A/N: A little something I pounded out - when I should have been studying for exams. Uh, yeah. *scratches head sheepishly*

I hope you enjoy it, though! *beams*

This is definitely to be a one-off. I rather doubt I'll be publishing in this fandom again at all, actually. Lord of the Rings is still my main focus, if any of you people are wondering what I'm doing in the 9 sector. Or perhaps even wondering what 9 is. ; )

Now, for a note that's actually relevant: This story takes place after the war is over, but before the movie. The stitchpunks are well established, but haven't quite found out how dangerous the world really is, even now that it's silent. It still stands to reason that the night is more dangerous than the day, right? (That'll come into play later.)

Also, I've chosen to write 3 and 4 as younger than the rest. I know, I know, they're actually chronologically older than everyone but 1 and 2, but think about this: if the stitchpunks were all made of pieces of the Scientist's soul, is it possible that some of the stitchpunks received parts of soul that were younger than other parts? I think it is, and that's why I've put 3 and 4 as younger than the others. They aren't literally, but they act like it, because they got the younger parts of the Scientist's soul. OK? OK. : )

Liberties taken: 1 might be a little OOC in this, but I figure he's got to have a more light-hearted and considerate side to him as well, or he'd explode. Even if it sometimes takes him a little while to find that side. I'm not at all sure if Sanctuary has a courtyard, but it's a church, so it kind of figures. Either way, it does here. And we're working under the assumption that storms of all shapes and sizes did exist before the end of 9, because while the BRAIN may have had a gas that killed everything alive, not much can mess with the weather long-term. That includes thinking robots. I guess storms just a rarity. Or maybe there had just never been a snowstorm before. I don't know! Just go with it, OK? Gosh! ; )

And now, without further ado…wait. One more thing.

Go get yourself a cookie if you read all that!

All set? All back? All right! Let's go! : D

ooo

"What on earth is it?"

That was 7, her voice curious but unafraid. Of course. 7 was never afraid. 1 knew that by now.

A few short clicks – 3 or 4, or both. 1 frowned. Did they know? And if so, how could the others find out?

"2, maybe you shouldn't – 2!"

1 raised his eyebrows and sped up as he walked towards the corner that separated him from the others, hearing the fear in 5's voice and wondering whether the emotion was well-deserved or merely the traditional skittish reaction from the one-eyed stitchpunk.

"Relax, everyone, it's not doing any harm. It's cold, yes, but…" 2's voice held wonder and curiosity. "It may be frozen water. It seems to be melting...yes, that's what it is."

More flickering from the twins, these more rapid and higher pitched. They were excited.

"8, put your knife away," 7 instructed. "If 2 says it's all right, it must be."

A grunt and the sound of metal clicking against metal. 8 had put his knife back against its magnet.

1 finally rounded the corner which led to the courtyard to find a very surprising sight. The familiar brown stones of the courtyard were nearly knee-deep in fluffy white stuff which was also currently falling out of the sky.

"What –" he muttered, stepping up between 3 and 5, both of whom jumped nervously at his sudden appearance. 1 ignored them.

4 directed his gaze to the blank snow in front of him and lit his eyes, projecting the image of falling white flakes onto the ground. A female voice said, "Chance of snow, seventy percent," and then 4 slumped slightly into his brother's ready hold.

"Snow?" called 2, from where he peered down at the white stuff. "Is that what it's called?" The old stitchpunk looked up in time to see 3 and 4 nod twice in tandem. "Hmm…"

"Is it good for anything?" 1 wanted to know.

7 scoffed. "Of course not. It's just weather. It might even make things harder. It looks a little slippery. But if it melts with heat, it'll probably go away soon."

"Correct, 7," replied 2, rejoining the group with a fistful of snow in each hand. Water dripped from his fingers to join the snow on the ground. "Look. Once it melts, it will trickle away."

5 stepped closer, and 2 opened one of his hands, showing the clump of snow to his apprentice. "Amazing," said 5, prodding the snow gingerly with one finger. "It sticks together."

3 and 4 clicked to each other, then scurried out into the courtyard, their feet sliding as they trotted along but not escaping them completely. 3 laughed voicelessly, backed up, and began to run across the courtyard, lost his footing about halfway across, twisted around, and slid headfirst on his stomach into a pile of deeper snow which leaned against a dead tree.

4's eyes flickered quickly and he began to make his way, albeit a little more cautiously, towards where his twin had disappeared into the snow. At the same time, 2 gasped and hurried back into the snow himself, rapidly followed by 5 and 7, then more reluctantly by 1 and 8. By the time all were gathered around the tree, 4 was digging into the snow, chattering to himself or his brother as he searched for 3. After a second, 2 joined in, while 5 cast his good eye across the area in question, looking for clues as to where 3 might have disappeared to inside the snow pile.

A moment later the fears of all were assuaged. 3 burst from around the tree, his eyes clicking and his mouth stretched into a wide grin, two clumps of snow in each hand. With expert accuracy, he lobbed one at his twin and the other at 5, then ducked down for two more, which soon flew towards 7 and 2.

However, only two of the missiles found their intended targets. 4 and 7, whose reflexes were just as good as 3's, managed to duck, which meant that 8 and 1, who were standing behind 4 and 7, got faces full of snow instead of the others. Soon the courtyard was filled with the sounds of four spluttering stitchpunks. 3 stood frozen as he watched the leader and his lackey brush themselves off grumpily, then switched his gaze to the more cheerful-looking 5 and 2, then to 7, who stood by unharmed but uncertain as to what was going to happen next, and finally to his twin, who he flicked anxiously back and forth with. However, the conversation was interrupted by 8, who had recovered the use of his mouth.

"You're gonna pay for that, runt," he grunted, and stepped towards 3. For a moment, the smaller stitchpunk's face was filled with alarm, but then his mouth broke into a wide grin as 8's did the same. 7 and 4 relaxed and laughed as they watched 8 chase 3 around the tree and the other stitchpunks, both parties clearly enjoying themselves.

"Come on!" 7 shouted to 5 and 4, seizing their hands in hers and dragging them after 3 and 8. 4 was quick on the uptake and was soon preparing balls of snow as quickly as he could, while 5 was only a little slower to get the gist and, ever the cautious one, began to pile snow as high as possible to make a defensive wall.

"To the rescue!" cheered 7, snatching up two of 4's snowballs at once and lobbing them at 8. One hit the back of his broad head, knocking it forward with its force, but the other missed and hit 3 instead. He turned, eyes flickering, to see his brother collapsed in paroxysms of silent laughter, 7 howling maniacally on one side and 5 smiling and looking pleased on the other. 3 stuck out his tongue at the lot of them, then turned to 8 and lit up his projector eyes.

7 and 4 stopped laughing out of curiosity, and all three stitchpunks peered over their snow fort, trying to see what 3 was showing 8, but were unsuccessful in the attempt. 8, however, clearly understood, because he grinned, knelt by 3, and solemnly shook hands with the younger stitchpunk, then quickly heaped snow upon itself to make a snow fort for himself and 3.

7, 5, and 4 turned to each other in dawning horror, then frantically began making as many snowballs as they could.

ooo

1 watched in consternation as the entire panorama unfolded before him, completely dumbstruck by the antics of the others. He turned to 2, who stood observing the scene with a more amused expression.

"What do they think they're doing?" he asked, for once not caring that he needed to find out from another source. He was completely out of his league.

"They're having fun," 2 said without looking away from the beleaguered 3 and 8, who had apparently gotten in over their heads and were now being bombarded by snowballs from every corner as 7 threw with wild but usually precise abandon, 4 kept the team well-stocked with snowballs and occasionally threw one himself, and 5 picked out his targets with his customary steadiness, hitting his targets nearly all of the time. After a moment 2 nodded abruptly, then turned away.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to try out one of 5's latest inventions…"

The elderly stitchpunk started back towards Sanctuary, leaving 1 standing alone and astonished in the snow as 'deadly' war waged behind him.

ooo

2 hummed to himself as he entered his workshop. Now, where had he put that catapult the other day…ah, there it was, behind a pile of ink-splattered paper. He pushed the paper aside, barely noticing the curious drawings on all of them – circles divided into three parts and etched with strange symbols, most with varying degrees of detail, all bespattered with spare ink – snatched up the handheld catapult behind them, then hurried out of the workshop, shutting the door with a bang behind him.

ooo

When 2 reappeared in the courtyard again, 1 was no longer watching bemusedly from the sidelines. Instead, he had characteristically cast in his lot with the team evidently most likely to win, and was helping 4, 5, and 7 pepper an increasingly desperate 3 and 8 with snow. His cape and hat were haphazardly draped across the snow bank 3 had fallen into, slowly getting covered by the snow that continued to fall, but 1 seemed to be having the time of his life, showing his more youthful side and seeming to imitate 7 as they both threw with equally wild abandon and gave voice to often nonsensical battle cries. 1's aim was positively terrible, 2 noted with a chuckle, but if the older stitchpunk was having fun and had forgotten his standoffishness for a while it would do everyone good.

But there was something else to be taken care of. 3 and 8's wall was collapsing, and both were thoroughly covered with snow, though they hadn't given up the fight yet.

"I'm coming, lads!" 2 shouted, picking up his pace and tucking the catapult under his arm. Ducking and weaving, he quickly made his way to the diminishing fortress while managing to keep clear of the snowballs flying through the air. 8 and 3 welcomed him with a relieved nod and a quick flicker of greeting, then turned back to their daunting task with new enthusiasm. 2 hummed brightly to himself as he rebuilt the wall with the firmness of one who has built many other things, then placed the catapult on the newly reconstructed barrier, loaded the catapult with as many snowballs as it would hold, and fired it at the other team.

"What…" 5 exhaled as he and 7 were peppered with six snowballs at once. "They can't throw so many with that degree of accuracy all at the same time!"

7 risked a cautious look over the top of the wall, then dived back down as a snowball zipped directly overhead. On the other side of the courtyard, 8's booming laugh could be heard.

"They've got your catapult, 5!" she gasped over 1's wild cry of "You miscreants! Face my wrath!"

"And 2!" she continued as 1 followed up his threat with a well-aimed snowball, then ducked back down in time to hear the last part.

"What?" The cry came from 1 and 5 at the same time, and a moment later, two irate heads popped over the wall.

"Traitor!" shouted 1, shaking his fist at the laughing head of 2, which had appeared over his own wall while his arm loaded the catapult again.

"That's my invention!" howled 5, shaking his own fist at his mentor.

"Is that so?" called 2, his voice quivering with laughter. "Would you like to come and get it?"

"NO!" shouted 5, ducking just in time and pulling 1 down with him as another barrage of snow flew over their wall, one snowball hitting 4 in the side of his head and another knocking off some of the snow from the wall.

1 sat up and spluttered, clearing snow from his mouth. For a moment, his eyes flashed with rising anger, but 5 had already turned away and was bent on returning fire with 7, while 4 imitated his elders and shook his fist at 3, 2, and 8. A moment later, 4 was hit in the head with another snowball, this one splattering all over his eyes and getting into his hood. 1's anger drained away, and he laughed briefly, helped brush the younger stitchpunk off, then handed 4 a snowball and took another for himself.

"We'll get them yet," he said grimly, launching his snowball at 8's head and scoring a blow. "Take that!" he called, snatching up another and aiming for 3 this time. "We'll show you!"

4 laughed silently and hit 2's catapult, causing it to fall backwards and dump its load onto the ground. "Now, see here!" 2 called indignantly.

"No kidding!" added 5 as an aside. "Do you know how long I worked on that catapult before it would fire properly?"

4 merely grinned, shook his head, and shrugged a brief apology before turning to restock the snowball pile.

7 laughed and launched a snowball of her own, managing to demolish part of the other team's wall. 5 threw another snowball as well, and knocked down another portion.

1 recognized the opportunity and immediately seized it. Snatching up as many snowballs as he could carry, he stood, plowed through his team's own snow wall, and sprinted across the courtyard through the knee-deep snow, shouting, "CHARGE!"

"CHARGE!" echoed 7, who followed 1 with 5 and 4 close behind.

As soon as 8, 3, and 2 saw the gleefully howling quartet thundering towards them, they knew the battle was over. 3 managed to throw his last few snowballs in a willy-nilly attempt at defiant resistance before 4 crashed into him and pushed him into the snow; 8 used his time to get in one last shot at 5, who merely shook the fresh load of snow out of his eye and crashed through the remaining snow barrier to bulldoze straight into 8, to be quickly joined by 7 as the larger warrior attempted to put up a fight; 2 barely had time to toss the catapult gently out of harm's way before 1 tackled him and pushed him into a snow bank.

For a while it was complete chaos as stitchpunk attacked stitchpunk. Snow flew in all directions, and for a moment it looked as though 8, 2, and 3 might get their feet under them again and be able to carry on, but once 8 was pinned face-first to the ground with 7 and 5 on top of him, holding his arms behind his back, the fight was over. 1 sat calmly and complacently on 2 as if he were a bench, preventing the laughing stitchpunk from moving an inch, and 4 bounced on 3 in the snow, playfully menacing his defeated brother with a snowball.

"All right! All right! We surrender!" chuckled 2, speaking for his entire team. "Let us up!"

1, 4, 5, and 7 didn't move for a moment, just to make their point, but soon the victors were standing and helping the defeated warriors to their feet, then brushing their friends and themselves off. Once everyone was cleared of snow, 2 gave another chuckle as he surveyed the courtyard, which looked very much as if a real war had taken place, then stooped to pick up the discarded catapult from where it had landed safely in another snow bank and turned to hand it back to 5.

"Thanks," laughed the one-eyed stitchpunk as his hands closed around his invention. "I'll be sure to put it somewhere safer now."

"Good idea," agreed 2, smiling. "That catapult of yours works absolutely excellently, you know!"

"Yes," said 5 wryly, brushing a little snow from the top of his eye patch, "I know."

"Look," pointed out 7, raising one arm toward the western horizon. "The sun's starting to go down." Sure enough, a blaze of orange could be seen at the horizon where the clouds ended, and a moment later the sun moved past the clouds and lit up the courtyard with light.

"Oh, dear," sighed 1, soon remembering his cape and hat. He meandered over to the snow bank where he had discarded them, lifted them up and brushed the snow off them. "My cape is absolutely soaked."

He put the cape back down for a moment and lifted his hat once more to his head, but as the others watched they couldn't help but smile, for even as their leader gathered his pride and dignity to himself once more, the hat wasn't placed on 1's head at its usual rigid, sober position, but instead at a rather haphazardly jaunty angle.

"I'll start a fire," grunted 8, playfully brushing a bit of remaining snow from his head onto 3's hood and starting for Sanctuary. The others trailed behind him, deciding that a fire definitely sounded like a good idea.

Once inside Sanctuary, 8 made good on his word as 3 and 4 scuttled to and fro bringing wood to the big warrior, 7 carried her weapons and 8's into a corner so they would be out of the way, and 1 stood with matches at the ready for 8, watching the goings-on with a patiently kind expression which was rarely seen on his face. 5 and 2 split off to their workshop to put away the catapult, talking animatedly about the outcome of the snowball battle and the possibility of more.

"Perhaps 1 will be amenable to having another one sometime soon," 2 was saying with hope as he pushed open the door to the darkening workroom and lit a candle standing ready on the table closest to the door.

"That would be nice," agreed 5, stepping further into the room. "Without him we don't have an even number to split between two teams."

2 hummed his agreement and lit another candle with the first. 5 put his catapult near the inked papers and began to move away. Then he gasped, picked up one of the papers, and turned to his mentor.

"2," he choked out. 5 turned with concern to his apprentice, only to freeze when he saw what 5 held.

"An even number," he breathed a moment later. "Where's 6?"

"I don't know! I haven't seen him since this morning!" 5's tone was quickly rising in panic. 2 stepped towards his apprentice and put his hand on the other's forearm.

"Calm down, my boy," he advised soothingly. "You know how 6 is. He can't have gone far."

"Yes, but you know how he is, too. He might not be able to find his way back!"

"We'd better hurry, 5," 2 said, snatching up his candle-hat and lighting it, then placing it on his head. "We need to find him before dark."

5 snatched up his crossbow and followed 2 out of the room, snuffing the candles hurriedly as he went, then slamming the door for the second time that day.

ooo

A moment later 2 burst into the main room of Sanctuary, a distraught 5 hot on his heels. 1 frowned and held up a hand to avert the confusion that would burst out if things didn't proceed in an orderly fashion. "2," he decided, picking the more rational-looking stitchpunk as his source of information. "What's wrong?"

"6 is gone," 2 explained. "5 and I haven't seen him since this morning. Have any of you?"

1 turned in time to see 3, 4, 7, and 8 all shake their heads, their expressions increasingly concerned as the head shakes multiplied.

"Then we need to look for him," 1 directed. "He can't have gone far. We all know how he is. But we must find him before sundown."

The others nodded, knowing what 1 had neglected to say. The world was intrinsically at its most dangerous at night. It took little common sense to deduce.

1 let that sink in, then completely resumed command of the small group, reaching up to straighten his hat as he spoke. "8, you stay here and keep the fire going. I want it at least a good six inches high by the time we get back. It will be imperative that we all get warmed up right away, especially 6." He paused while 8 nodded, then transferred his gaze to 3 and 4.

"You two, check all of 6's usual places. Do not go back outside. If you don't find him, help 8 keep the fire up." 3 and 4 nodded as their eyes flickered resolutely, then turned as one, snatched up two birthday candles from a nearby pile, lit them, then hurried off into the darkness.

"7, 2, and 5, you come with me. We'll search outside. Bring two candles each."

The remaining stitchpunks nodded, then gathered their candles as 1 took two for himself, then moved outside and split up to search the piles of snow in the courtyard.

The stitchpunks passed an anxious half-hour. 3 and 4 searched the building thoroughly, checking all of 6's usual hiding places: 1's chamber, the perpetually dim area next to the rope-and-bucket elevator, 5 and 2's workshop, everyone's sleeping quarters, and every nook and cranny of the main room. However, 6 was nowhere to be found, and eventually the dispirited twins blew out their candles and joined 8 at the fire, who patted the two of them on the back and then sent them for wood, knowing from experience that the best thing for the twins now would be to keep busy.

ooo

Things were going even worse outside. The four had split immediately into four different areas of the courtyard and all were thorough searchers, but there were so many snow banks that it was very hard work to dig through them all in search of 6. They were soon wet again from snow, their voices were worn out from calling the missing stitchpunk's name over and over again, and a cold breeze had sprung up. Even worse, the light was rapidly failing, and soon all the candles had been lit merely to keep up some degree of visibility, though they kept flickering and weren't nearly as bright as could be wished. And 6 was still nowhere to be found.

Finally, when the clouds had all but dissipated and stars lit the night from high above, 1 called a halt and beckoned everyone to the center of the courtyard where he stood. The leader of the stitchpunks was looking a bit worse for the wear. Every inch of him was soaked, he shook slightly with cold and damp, and his hat was askew again. He kept shoving it distractedly upward with one hand while he waited for 7 to finish wading through a particularly deep pile of snow, but it continued to slide back down around the side of his head. Finally, 1 took his hat off completely and flung it into the dark.

"Confound it!" he spat, then turned more calmly to 2, 5, and an approaching 7, who all raised their eye-stitches at his outburst, but said nothing.

"Ten more minutes and then we must go inside," 1 said, his voice shaking with cold and perhaps just a little bit of emotion. "There is no point in us freezing to death as well as 6."

"No! I won't leave 6 out here," cried 7, gesturing defiantly with her candle. 2 opened his mouth but before he could attempt to pacify her, 1 spoke up again.

"Enough! 5, 2, and I are nearly all done in. You are almost exhausted yourself. Don't think I didn't see you struggling through that snowdrift just now. Under normal circumstances you would have bounded through it like 3 and 4 at their most energetic. No more arguing. The longer you stand here arguing, the less time you have to look for 6 before we all head in!"

With that, 1 turned away from the irate 7 and held his candle high. "6! Curse it, where are you?"

"Leave him be, 7," 2 advised, reaching stiffly up to put a hand on her shoulder. "He cares more than he's letting on. You may not see it, but it hurts him to even think about losing one of us. He's meant to protect us, and if he fails at that..."

2 fell silent for a moment and let that sink in, then continued.

"He's doing his best to find 6, but he's right. None of us can take much more of this. No, not even you, my girl," he added as 7 opened her mouth defiantly. "1 is right. The best thing we can all do right now is to look for 6 for another ten minutes, and if we don't find him, go in and rest so that we can in the morning. Now, go on. I don't think anyone has searched closer to the gate yet."

7 hesitated for a moment, looking hard at 2, but he met her gaze sympathetically but firmly, and she soon sighed in acquiescence and trudged toward the gate. 2 sighed himself and turned to look at 1's hat lying in the snow. He smiled slightly, then turned to check around the side of Sanctuary.

ooo

The ten minutes 1 had allotted them were almost up when 5's relieved cry broke the night. "Over here!" he called from a little-used and thus far unsearched corner of the courtyard, waving both candles over his head as a signal to the others. 7's head shot up, nearly hitting the gate as she bent nearly in two to examine the snow for any evidence of 6's whereabouts. Once she realized what 5 was saying, she straightened and began to make her way towards the waving candles.

"I'll notify the others," called 2, his voice relieved. His candle-hat could be seen bobbing up and down as the elderly stitchpunk headed back towards Sanctuary.

"At last!" grumbled 1 audibly, making his own way towards 5's candles.

By the time 7 and 1 reached 5, the one-eyed stitchpunk had wedged both of his candles into a snow bank and was kneeling next to 6, one arm beneath the striped stitchpunk's shoulders and the other beneath his legs in preparation to lift him and carry him inside.

"I can't get him on his feet," he explained once 7 and 1 were in earshot. "He was asleep and under a huge pile of snow when I got here, but after I dug him out he opened one eye and said something to me – I couldn't understand it – and went back to sleep. I'll take him inside."

1 raised his eye-stitches. 5 sounded perfectly calm, not like his usual nervous self.

"Do you need help?" asked 7, sounding tired. She had expended most of her reserves of energy in the ten minutes remaining to her, determined to find 6 before she had to go back inside, and now she was closer to 6's catatonic state than any of the rest of them.

"No, thanks, I have him. 7, you need to get inside where it's warm. You look almost as bad as 6 does." 5 grunted and stood, staggering a little but managing to stay standing. 6 shivered and curled into the little heat that 5, wet and cold as he was, continued to put out as his inner gears kept working.

7 looked like she was about to argue, but after a moment she nodded, snuffed and gathered the candles 5 had left propped in the snow, and wordlessly followed 5 as he made his cautious way toward Sanctuary. 1 brought up the rear, a slight smile of relief on his face as he watched 7 to make sure she didn't collapse before she got inside.

ooo

Inside, everything was in a perfect state of readiness. The fire was at least seven inches high, the twins stood by with blankets and more wood at the ready, fat candles were lit in a wide circle around the fire, a pallet of blankets lay near the fire in case 6 needed it, and 8 stood ready to receive the others into the warmer atmosphere. 2 huddled nearest the fire, a thick blanket already wrapped around him, and although he was shivering violently, he looked happy.

8 quickly took 6 from 5 and lay him gently on the pallet by the fire. 3 and 4 hurried up and passed out blankets to 1, 5, and 7, who took them dazedly and spaced themselves around 6. More blankets were soon wrapped around the unresponsive stitchpunk, and then there was nothing to do but keep the fire going and wait for 6 to wake up.

It was a long time, or so it seemed to the cold and tired rescuers. Slowly, one by one, 5, 2, 7, and 1 started to doze off, falling asleep to the crackling of the fire and the slow breathing of their friends. But before they could completely fall asleep, each of them were woken by 3 or 4, who shook their friends' shoulders urgently, then shared silent pictures of cold humans going to sleep and never waking up again. That galvanized them into wakefulness, and soon four pairs of feet kept a steady pacing tread around their fire, determined not to fall asleep again until the danger had passed.

After a while they all thawed enough that resting was safe, although they were still cold. They leaned against each other's backs and fell into a doze by 6's side while 8, 3, and 4 kept a silent watch over them.

ooo

When the sleeping stitchpunks woke up some time later, it was still dark, but other than that they could have slept for any length of time and not known. For a moment they were confused, but then realized what had woken them. 6 was moving and muttering under his breath.

5 laughed quietly and sprang to his feet, feeling new energy fill him after his sleep, a sit by the fire, and signs of recovery in his friend. "He's going to be fine!" he said, beaming down at the others as they straightened. "See? He's moving. And talking. He's going to be fine."

2 stood and placed a hand on his apprentice's shoulder. "Good job, my boy," he said approvingly. 7 yawned and nodded, then smiled. 1 grumbled quietly, but for once it was in agreement.

"That's good news, then," 1 mumbled, still half-asleep, questing fingers reaching slowly up to straighten his hat, only to freeze in midair when no hat could be found.

"We'll get it in the morning," smiled 2 as he noticed his leader's surprise.

"Good enough for me," muttered 1, lowering himself back onto the floor and shutting his eyes again.

7 gave a quiet chuckle at this exchange, then stood and looked about for the twins and 8. 3 and 4 were curled in cross-legged positions on the floor some distance away, arms around each other, their eyes drooping shut, then jerking briefly open, only to drop once more. She smiled at them. "Get some sleep."

3 nodded, sleepily flickered something to her, then pulled 4's head down to his lap. Both sets of eyes closed completely, and 3 slowly sagged to lay his own head on his twin's arm. 7 smiled with amusement and turned to see that 1 had gotten up and joined 2 in lecturing 8, the older stitchpunks apparently telling the brawny warrior to get some rest. At first 8 tried to put up a fight, but soon he nodded wearily and settled down in a corner, leaned his head back against the stone, and went to sleep, leaving 1, 2, 5 and 7 to hold lookout duty.

For a while it was silent except for footsteps, breathing, and the occasional mutter from 6, but soon the latter increased in frequency, volume, and coherency, and 2 dropped out of the patrol to wait next to 6. The others made no argument, knowing that the seer stitchpunk was often most comfortable around the kindly 2.

Soon 6's thrashing and muttering came to a head, and 2 gently took the younger stitchpunk's hands in his own, fearing that 6 might hurt himself if he continued to toss himself about. "6," 2 murmured. "You're all right. Wake up. Wake up!"

6 stilled for a moment, calmed by 2's voice, then gave one last jerk and sat up.

"No!"

"Easy, 6," said 5 from closer to the fire, the light playing across his gentle face. "You're fine now."

6's face slowly drained of its fear, to be replaced by confusion. "W-what happened to the snow?"

"We brought you inside, 6," explained 2, cautiously letting go of his friend's wrists now that 6 was calmer. "You were freezing to death out there."

There was silence for a moment, as 6's taut eye-stitches smoothed. "Oh."

He carefully disentangled himself from the blankets and slowly stood, his balance surprisingly good. 2, 5, 7, and 1 watched in bewildered silence as 6 wandered off into the dark of his room, then shortly returned with a large, grubby piece of paper in one hand and ink leaking out of his fingers.

Humming almost tunelessly to himself, he settled down in front of the fire and began to draw. 5 cast a quick look at 1, wondering if 6 was about to get a scolding for drawing 'the source,' as the seer stitchpunk termed it, but 1 stood quietly with one hand on his hatless head and the other propped on his hip, merely watching 6 draw.

Soon everyone could see that whatever 6 was drawing, it wasn't 'the source.' It was something intrinsically different than 'the source.' For one thing, 6's expression had changed. When he drew the round orb that invariably turned into 'the source,' his face was anything but peaceful or happy. It always held some more turbulent emotion on it: sometimes fear, sometimes sorrow or grief, sometimes hope, sometimes resignation, and, once in a very great while, anger or despair. But now there was a kind of peaceful yearning on 6's face, broken only by a small smile of affection.

1, 2, 5, and 7 watched curiously as 6's fingers worked their magic on the piece of paper, drawing whatever had come to him in his sleep. The stillness was broken only by 7 adding wood to the fire, and by 1 running a weary hand over his head, sitting back down, and resting his chin in his hands, though he continued to watch 6 draw.

In a few more minutes the picture was done. 6 looked up, beaming, and wiped leftover ink on himself, then gestured to 2, who knelt by the striped stitchpunk's side and silently looked at the drawing. Slowly, 2's eye-stitches went up, then knit together.

"6," he said slowly, "how long were you sleeping in the snow today?" 2 reached down and curled his fingers around the corners of the paper questioningly, and 6 obligingly sat back and allowed 2 to pick up his latest piece of art. 2 turned it around and showed it to the others, his head visible over the top of the paper, a questioning look on his face.

The picture was simple: a few long, straight lines clearly represented the walls of the courtyard. Shorter, more curved ones were snow banks. In the middle of the paper were drawn two teams of laughing stitchpunks, while snowballs flew back and forth between two snow walls. 6 had drawn 1 without his hat on, an expression of wild abandon on the half of his face that could be seen. 4 was making snowballs, his lips pursed in an expression of intense concentration. 5 took careful aim, his gaze focused but mirthful as he waited for the perfect shot. 7 held a snowball in the air defiantly, her eyes and mouth laughing, apparently calling something. On the opposite side of the picture, 3 and 8 were high-fiving each other, looking very pleased with themselves, and 2 was one-handedly stacking a pile of snowballs on the catapult, a mischievous grin on his face as he apparently aimed for his own apprentice.

But there was also a new addition to the scene, one that had not actually been there earlier in the afternoon. Over in the corner, half-hidden by 2, sat a little striped stitchpunk, more crudely drawn than the rest but beaming just as largely as his fellows. Ink dripped from one finger onto the snow, where the 6 in the drawing had written Surrender! in shaky letters. The other hand held out a snowball to 2, who reached for it as if to put it on the catapult.

At the bottom of the picture was written, 7: "Never!" And under that in letters so small they were very hard to see, Next time?

6 spoke into the silence that greeted his artwork. "S-since maybe noon. The snow had just started to fall…it was beautiful. I f-fell asleep."

"And nearly didn't wake up," interjected 1 harshly. 5 winced at his leader's tone and 7 opened her mouth to argue, but caught 2's quick shake of the head and shut it again without saying anything. 6 didn't appear perturbed at all.

1 continued: "The next time you want to go outside, 6, you'd better tell one of us, so if you don't come back we can come out and look for you." He sighed. "I don't want you lost more than anyone else, you know."

6 nodded and smiled at 1, who had come about as close as he ever would to saying that he cared for his fellows, but turned almost immediately back to the drawing in 2's hands and took it gently in his own pen-nib fingers. 2 obligingly passed it back to its maker, who held it with one hand at the top and one at the bottom, adjacent to the words Next time?

6 walked slowly towards 1, holding out his drawing, a smile on his inky face. He stopped a few paces away from 1, who looked between drawing and creator with an expressionless face.

6 tapped the bottom words with one pointed finger. "Please?" he asked, his voice hopeful and his mismatched eyes wide.

1 looked closer at the painting, noticing the care that had gone into the portrayal of every character but 6's own self. Whether that was because he hadn't actually been there and thus had a harder time imagining himself into his vision, or whether it was because he cared less for himself than he did for the others, or even whether it was actually because he thought he was worth less than the others, 1 didn't know, didn't want to know, and didn't care. He was having a hard enough time resisting 6's query.

"I…ah…n…" he stuttered for a minute, then looked up, about to say 'no,' but caught glimpses of the others before the words could escape his mouth.

3, 4, and 8 were awake, and, judging from the lack of confusion on all their faces, had heard enough of the conversation to understand the request being made. 3 and 4 had identical wistful expressions on their faces, and 1 was suddenly reminded of how young they really were. 5 and 2 stood together, 2's hand on 5's shoulder, their faces looking with approval at 1's hesitation instead of just a straight 'no.' 7 watched him from a separate corner of the room, her eyes challenging him, both daring him to say 'no' to 6 and begging him to say 'yes.' Even 8 looked like he wanted his leader to say 'yes' and give his consent for another snowball fight.

"I…oh, all right," subsided 1, smiling a little despite himself at the looks of happiness which broke out on everyone's faces simultaneously, especially 6's. A moment later, the drawing fluttered, forgotten, to the ground, and 6 wrapped 1 in a brief hug before dashing back into the dark, presumably after more paper. Before anyone could do anything more than smile at 1's bewildered expression, 6 had returned with a fresh sheet of paper and dropped down by the fire once more.

"You'll see," he said happily, his fingers already busily scratching away. "It'll be fun. You'll see."

The others clustered around 6 to admire his skill at drawing and wait to see what appeared on the paper to depict any future snowball fights. Even 2 went, after casting an understanding and pleased glance at 1. But 1 was not paying attention to his fellow stitchpunks. Instead, he was looking down at the drawing 6 had dropped to hug him, his eye briefly resting on each of his friends' images before moving on to the next. His own likeness was last – 1 looked at it for a particularly long time, noted the change in his face from what he knew it normally held, and decided the change was a good one.

Over by the fire, 6 was happily scratching away. "You'll see," he kept saying to the others, who all laughed and agreed with him.

1 smiled and bent to pick up the piece of paper. "I already do," he murmured, then straightened and turned to join the others.

ooo