A Withering Rose

by Granitt

The journey of a broken girl... Laden with ridiculousness... Dashed with oddities... And perhaps gravied with embarrassment... What if Rose survived instead of Sparrow?

1. Chapter 1

It, was winter. In winter, things slowly die. Their life drained until the blessing spring. In the winter, sickness and death fall upon the unfortunate and nature. In winter, biting winds and the unforgiving cold with the graceful yet indiscriminate snow, indifferent.

Winter is frigid.

It was not surprising that tragedy occurred more likely in the season that the world became cruel and unforgiving, sometimes beautiful for its own amusement.

One such tragedy that began to wither a Rose.

A young Rose.

A Rose that grew thorns and learned to tangle and whip.

A Rose, that learned to sustain itself with blood.

And so the story, begins...

Another cold morning, another day of wishing.

Another day of stress, stress and more stress. Wishing their parents were still alive, wishing things would finally go their way, wishing the traders from before had returned like before to shelter them again, wishing she could help herself and her brother better. Stressed because she had to worry about all of that, all factors.

Their home, the worst of a poor man's excuse of a shack - a skeletal frame and a roof with a wall that barely stood on its own, leveraged by a side of a house that it leaned on in the alley they called home. Rose sniffed and shuddered, wincing from the cold as she rubbed her arms just for the littlest of warmth. She closed her eyes, her breath steam in the morning air. She then looked to Sparrow, poor boy was shaking in his sleep. Like yesterday. And the day before that. So on and so forth ever since the cold finally took hold late fall and grew ever strong.

When they were taken by those traders, the wife had given Rose a gift: a black worn book that she used as her diary. She did have ink and pen at one point, that also from the wife, but their hunger was too demanding.

She went to, took it in her hands, and opened to the latest entry, skimming:

...come on Rose, think of something. You're the big sister, remember?

She stared at the entry a moment, then up and at the brick wall ahead of her absently, face blank but mind at work, thinking of possible solutions. One in particular stuck out, stubbornly stuck out.

She sighed and put the diary back into place, back on the wooden floor even welcoming the diary for warmth.

Rose: "Yeah... think."

Rose took a deep breath, needing to clear those thoughts, old enough to know thinking like that would not get any of them anywhere.

Warmth... A fire... That is what they needed.

Rose glanced around the alley - nothing useful.

But looking out. - even from here, she had a great view of Castle Fairfax. It was like tunnel vision, a beacon, and her mind wandered, soaring high to imagination:

A warm spring day.

The courtyard populated with nobles greeting each other in their sophisticated mannerisms, about or on business.

Flowers dancing in the sun neighbored by the crisp green grass; butterflies or bees resting or at work.

Birds beating their wings, soaring into the sky.

The sun even happy on this day, it beaming clear and welcoming.

Rose sighed again:

The image faded away, reality slipping in. But even then, the castle was still beautiful in the drifting snow: the dark contrast of the castle in the falling white stars and the white canvas that was the sky in the background, black and white, the eye catcher. A dark shape of the unknown. Which fitted her and Sparrow just fine: only knowing the exterior, never what was actually inside. It could be anything they wished it to be: royal hallways decorated with paintings and red carpets, expensive decor - all guarded by guards ready to serve given the chance.

Enough of dreams, however.

Rose continued her search; nothing viable in the vicinity - wet wood of the shack and the wet, snow-padded foilage.

She glanced at Sparrow, still trembling with shivering breath.

One more glance around and Rose remembered the large braith they had used yesterday. It was still there, just a small pace over down the alley. Hands over her arms, she jogged to it and inspected what was left. What remained of the wood was slighty damp but it would work, the snow must have started falling just recently.

Having been living on the streets for a long while, survival skills like making fires was something she was forced to pick up on quickly. Contrary to, what she assumed to be popular belief, the wood alone was not enough to start the fire and it would not start immediately - small fuels like leaves and twigs were the essentials to start and keep the fire fed, and it was a slow building process, agonizing in the cold such as today.

A quick search yielded nothing, most of the leaves and twigs and bits of remaining grass were already damp. She rubbed her arms and stomped her feet, gritting her teeth, snow starting to pile on her hair and shoulders. She took another glance of her surroundings and the underbelly of the shack caught her eye. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, it was stupid really. She got under and snatched anything feesible,anything she had stored here. All just enough for one fire. Grunting, keeping her head down to keep from hitting the shoddy woodwork just above her head, she snatched the fire sticks she had kept there.

Nothing to cover her work, to keep the snow away, time wasting away, she hurried back to the braith, dropped the things, set up the fire sticks, and rubbed as fast as she could.

It was not the amount of force she put into it, she remember being told, it was how fast she could do it for more wooden punk, the ash. But, no doubt it was her current state, given the conditions she was under, that hindered her.

A frown developed over time.

Rose: "C'mon... C'mon..."

She paused to blow into her hands.

Once.

Twice.

Back to the sticks.

Smoke was smoldering off but wasn't thick enough.

Working, feeling numbness edging on her palms, barely able to feel her nose.

She grit her teeth.

And in that frustration she snapped the stick she was rubbing.

Something clicked, and she chucked down the fire stick in her hand and stomped at the ground with toothy grit teeth, face deeply scowled, wanting to scream but doing so would alert people and possible wake Sparrow - she didn't want him to see her like this. She was conscious of her actions enough to avoid stepping on the thrown-down fire stick. By the time that emotional rush washed away, she found the mist in her mind clearing to think more clearly.

She took a deep breath.

Rose: "Its okay... the other side of the stick is still fine... I can still use that..."

Rose hurried, the snow not letting up, picking the stick, and returning to the braith, the punk still smoldering, she set the usable side of the firestick and rubbed.

Rubbing, rubbing, and rubbing.

The process now considerably slower from the shortening splinter, but she persisted.

Rubbing and rubbing.

Eyes pinned to the sticks.

Eying the smoke, ignoring the cold as best as she could.

Her eyes widened at the sudden thickening of the punk. She set aside the sticks, set the punk in the tinder, enclosing it with practiced handling, and gently blew and blew and blew, feeling the heat build in her hands, the sizzling of the tinder gradually louder each breath, and the smoke foretelling her current desire.

Hot and burned enough, she set the tinder down and feed the embers the leaves, twigs, kindling more and more, carefully at times in caution of the fire weakening from some misshap, or worse case scenario having the fire burn itself out. Out of kindling, she quickly searched for adequate branches, breaking and tossing them into the fire.

And finally she smiled, hands out to gratefully take in the warmth. Rose blew into and rubbed her hands, finally realizing just how cold her hands had gotten. She only blew sufficient enough times before running back into the shack.

Rose: "C'mon Little Sparrow, wake up!"

Sparrow eye's cracked open and settled on Rose.

Deeming things going too slow, Rose took and carried Sparrow over to the fire to keep him from sleeping forever. Upon setting him down, he shot out his arms for the warmth and Rose swatted his hands away.

Rose, snapping: "Not so close! You're gonna burn yourself!"

Sparrow put out his hands, carefully now: "Sorry!"

They settled themselves there in silence, taking in the warmth, basking in it, embracing it, their shaking coming to a stop. Thereafter, Rose made sure she stored what was left of the firesticks before they became damp. Moments passing, Rose then took Sparrow in a hug in hopes of warming him up faster, her chin resting against the crown of his head. If he was not warm enough already, more so to appease her paranoia.

Sparrow: "Rose, I'm fine now. Can you let go?"

Rose: "Then warm me up for awhile, I'm still cold." At least, that was what she told him.

Rose starred into the waving fire, at the burning wood at the center of the braith, her mind wandering to her stomach: food was still a concern, from what she could remember they had not eaten in a couple of days, lucky enough to find water to drink in that mean time.

Most of the food they did manage to get or find, at the very least, scraps, she gave to Sparrow, more concerned about him seeing how he was the youngest. Now, all of that was now coming to a head, Rose can feel it edging closer and closer. Thinking it now, it was as though her own hunger was yawning at her conscience, just digging its fingers into her brain and letting gravity do the work.

She narrowed her eyes, staring absently at the fire waving at the air for its life, more alive than the both of them.

Then, she looked up, ahead at the fantasy of stones and stones of hard work, safety and imagination towering above all the houses in Bowerstone.

Lucky, too: that smallest of movement had her dodge the movement in the corner of her eye, hearing a muffled plop, and jumping.

Rose: "What was that?"

The aroma greeted her nostrils, blatantly.

Rose removed herself completely, moving away to Sparrow's right.

Instinctively, Sparrow reached his hand up to his head. That slick warmth with the feeling of bits and tiny chunks of things turning his entire face into a mask of disgust and panic, then furiously rubbing and wiping at his hair.

Rose: "Uhhh, yuck!"

All of that movement bringing the cold back, Sparrow shivered and hunched, held himself tightly, stepping and turning back to the fire.

Rose smirked: "Well... I hear that's lucky, like finding a four-leaf clover." She chuckled, "Though I think I prefer the clover."

After quickly determining his hair was fine, minus the smell, Sparrow looked to the Castle in the distance, "Rose? Do you think we'll ever get a place like that?" A hint of hope in his voice.

Rose joined Sparrow in watching the Castle, "...Well," Rose said, "I don't know. Castle Fairfax looks so nice in the snow, though. Reckon Lord Lucien's having roast duck this time of year."

Sparrow: "Have you ever tasted duck, Rose? It sounds good."

Rose regretted saying that, feeling an ache in her stomach now. Her imagining what this food would look like, the possibilities, taunted her from within her own mind, forcing her mind upon with brilliance - look at me, hey! Look, yer hungry, aren't'cha?

Rose forced the image and related thoughts away, then using that practiced voice she had come to be an adept from hiding things from Sparrow and bargaining and lying for necessities: "No. The only thing Dad really knew how to cook was boiling water. But, yeah. It does sound really good."

Her stomached blessed amen to the thought.

Sparrow suddenly grew quiet, and peripherally Rose saw him dip his head down.

Rose: "What is it, lil' Sparrow?"

A moment, then, not looking: "Rose... Why did... Mom and Dad have t'die?"

It was a question that she herself wanted to know - why them, indeed?

Because God is too cruel, is what she wanted to say, or something along those infuriated lines: ever since their parents died, suddenly thrusted into the world by their own with nothing but their minds and hands, well, Sparrow was only able to get this toy sword and toy gun - the closest to defensive arms, it felt as though only misfortune followed them, lucky scrapes here and there and sometimes purely that - luck.

But she needed to answer: "...I, I wish I knew, too, little brother." Now, dreamily to Castle Fairfax, "If only we could live there..."

Off to the right, in the distance, a rousing crowd was heard faintly cheering.

Sparrow: "What's going on there?"

Rose: "I don't know," Then gesturing to Sparrow, "Come on, little Sparrow."

They made their way out, out of the alley way, following the cobbled path past the small cobble clearing that of a tiny cul-de-sac for the surrounding houses and into the alley way leading deeper into the town. Down the way, they could see the small crowd from here before what looked to be a caravan.

And they would have been there already if not stopped by a particular man.

That man.

Ragged, disgruntled; clothes old, worn, keeping an odd sense of fashion, that sense best kept by the top hat he wore. His eyes piercing in an intruding way and his beard like frayed whiskers.

"'Ello ther', young Rose. You look hungry" That smile of his spoke jarring volumes, she felt those eyes of his like a torch close to her skin, up and down her body, "'Ave you... reconsidr'ed my of'fa?"

Rose felt the scowl on her face crease her face, failing to kept her voice in check, swinging her arms down: "I told you before, you poop rat - no!"

Rose snatched Sparrow's wrist and broke off, dragging him, continuing on towards the caravan.

Behind her, the man's voice was calm with sinister confidence, seemingly loud and clear despite the growing distance: "You'll be back... and Ah'll be wai'en fo' ya'..."

If Rose was to be thankful of one thing about winter it would be the cold. Her worrying about it, latching to her skin - it kept the kettle warm with the boiling temperatures inside it. The wind blowing against her keeping the lid from erupting.

Before the crowd: "Rose, let go, my arm hurts!"

Rose let go at once, "Oh! Sorry, lil Sparrow!" And knelt and rubbed his arm, inspecting for any sort of injury, "I didn't hurt you that much, did I?"

"Not really."

Rose mumbled: "...Hate that creep..."

Confirming there was no injury on Sparrow, Rose turned back to the human curtain that was the crowd before her, cursing at their small heights in comparison to the adults before them, jumping to see through the layers of heads and shoulders, being able to spot the sign of this caravan: Mystical Murgo.

Rose: "What's... happening...?"

Sparrow tried down under, trying to peer through the forest of legs, and was able to spot a top-hatted man inside of the caravan surrounded by an assortment of items and objects.

Jumping, Rose lost the balance of her footing, leaning to the left and bumped into the person next to her, "Oh! Sorry!" Then stared, this person, "Where are you from? I've never seen those clothes before."

"Shh..." The person hushed and pointed to the stall.

By height alone, this person was perhaps young, maybe around Rose's age, but the clothes were foreign and the air around them exuded an air of maturity of sorts, giving Rose the idea that perhaps this person was older.

Heavy green robe with intricate yellow designs of lines and swirls, it seemed across it, from the bottom to the hood, matched by the yellow hems of the sleeves and the hood, which no matter how many angles and how many times she squinted it was all black, as though the person's head or face was not there at all. Which, was silly to think about: the hood was held up by a head, evident by what she could make out the form of from the wide hood they wore. Little brass metal pieces like decorations dangled from the top of the hood.

Rose: "Wait... How're you able -"

"A-Ladies and A-gentlemen!" The lispy practiced voice snatched Rose's attention, "Aw'e have twaveled the land accumulating wondewous and mysterious awbjects for the modest pwice of... five gold." And he gestured, "Consider this: this truly is a magically mirror, for as long as you look into it it will make you beautiful."

Rose rolled her eyes.

A voice from the crowd: "I'll take it!"

"Very Wise!" Cheered the voice, "Now, just remember, the magic will only work if you look at it in complete darkness."

Rose face palmed; but looking to Sparrow - the boy's face was plastered with glee: wide open-mouthed smile, hands up to his chest balled into fists, and hopping. Stars were twinkling in his eyes. He bit his lip.

Rose glanced back down the path - no one there, then: "Calm down, lil' Sparrow."

Sparrow went down on his hands and knees, peering again through the legs. Not following her directions yet not disobeying them either, Rose let it slide.

"Ah! Now, this, is twuly a mawvel: this small unassuming box is actually a device created by the ancients, used by the wuw'es of the Old Kingdom, themselves. Turn the handle th'ee times and you'll be gwanted a single wish!"

Enough was enough, Rose: "There's no such thing as magic..."

Sparrow frowned for his sister, partly also for him as well: though a child, by no means was he ignorant of his surroundings, how much their situations was a hair tearer for Rose, even he at times being one of those factors. He became downcast - if only magic were real, if imagination was not a form of magic already, something he would have to thank for, kept him buoyed in the lapping waves of reality.

A listener had heard Rose as the crowd dispersed, seemingly lost interest:

"We live in grim times, indeed, if the young are too weary to believe in magic," The Green Robed person, woman, evident by her easy, wise voice, youthful yet mature, and she observed: "Most children your age believe eagerly."

Rose sighed, turning to the woman: "Look, I don't know how you can see through that hood of your's, but I'm telling you: that music box is rubbish." Saying with a dismissive wave of her hand.

But the Green Robed Woman: "That's exactly what the trader thinks, but think: the Old Kingdom is ancient history, filled with stories of magic, technology, creatures. Does he truly know what he's stumbled upon? Some part of you wants to believe."

Then, with that, the woman began to walk away, down the alley Rose and Sparrow had come from, them eying her.

Rose: "W-what, do you... really think it could be?"

Rose's mind snapped back to Castle Fairfax. All their troubles, all their pain. Luxury, pure luxury would be there, for as long as they were to stay; safe, safe from all of the dangers of the world. All of the pain... a solid, certain, fortified shelter... for the both of them...

The woman stopped, saying over her shoulder: "For five gold coins, you could have your answer."

Rose: "For five gold coins, we could eat for a week."

And the woman started again, continuing on her way: "Listen Rose: by the end of that week, you'll be no different than now, no different anywhere, no different to getting inside that castle you dream of so dearly." And she was gone, on her own way.

Rose's mind swirled, staring a moment.

If... If, it... were, true... If the box was indeed magical...

Sparrow tugged at Rose's sleeve: "Hey, Rose, how did that lady know your name?"

That input put the breaks on her train of thought, realizing: how did the woman know her name, having never seen or met her before? She would know, remember, definitely: the woman was a sore thumb, the only reason no one really took attention, she assumed, was because she stuck herself to the back of the whole crowd.

Regardless, Rose turned to Sparrow: "What if it is true?This could probably be our only way out of here, Sparrow. Come on, there's gotta be some people around here that'll let us do... do, something."

Passing the caravan, they didn't need to walk far:

A guard waved for them: "Oi, kids, c'mere e'minute!"

Them approaching:

Sparrow: "Hi, Derek!"

Rose: "Lose something?"

Derek: "My arrest warrants!" And he pointed the way to their left, "Flew off in that direction. I wou'd ge' 'em my'self, but, Ah''ve got to keep my post, make sure the law'r's kept around here. You know how it is."

Sparrow: "Okay. So, if we find 'em, uh, one gold per piece?"

Rose, however: "Sparrow, that's too much t'ask for!" Granted, they would reach their goal quicker but to demand such an extortion off the bat?

Derek chuckled: Wan'ing pay fer work? Sound like a working citizen already! Unfortunately, I left my wallet at my quarters, only got one piece in my pocket. Keep in mind that people have their own troubles, young one."

Then Derek's eyes became sympathetic: "Knowing you two for a while now, I know you need the money for food, but, so does everyone in Old Town. 'Eard the harvest wasn't well this year, they've risen the price as such, some worse in some areas."

Sparrow frowned, but either way: "Oh, okay. Well, if we see those, uh... what does a warrant look like, Rose?"

Derek answered for her: "They're just slips of paper with writing on wanted criminals, shouldn't be too hard t'find 'em.

Rose nodded, and, hands planted on Sparrow's shoulder, pushed Sparrow along as she began walking before he could make anymore requests: "Alright, Derek, we'll get'em if we see 'em."

Sparrow struggled, removed himself from Rose's grasp, rubbing his shoulders, whining: "Rose!"

Rose, merely: "C'mon, lil Sparrow."

And made their way, following the direction indicated by Derek where they, again, didn't have to go far for something calling their attention: a man with a sort of box standing on three legs before a stage with a background of a village or town of some sort, a small crowd was building.

Rose stared before turning away: "Mmm... C'mon, Sparrow, we gotta find-"

But looking for her brother, Rose found he going off to the stage.

Rose: "Spar-row!" She sighed irritably, before following.

The man with the box turned to Rose's voice, seeing her and Sparrow, and his face lit up: "Ah! Jus' the two I needed! Listen, this box here is going to change the face of portraits as we know it! No need to sit for hours on end, no need to worry of mistakes or accidents during the painting. This box will solve evere'thin!"

The man was in dark overalls, a brown-orange sweater underneath, his cap had goggles, and his long nose was noting.

He motioned to the box next to him: "This box will capture a moment exactly the way it was at the moment it is used!"

A voice from the small crowd: "Rubbish! Sell your hog-wash somewhere else, Barnum!"

"Well!" Barnum kept a refined manner, though despite the cold, hunger, and such, the two could see the distinction of him becoming flustered, "How 'bout a demonstration?" He then turned to them, "How 'bout it kids? I promise it won't hurt you."

Rose eyed the proclaimed moment-capturing box: the box itself was small with a protruding front becoming smaller and smaller till pointed with a cylindric, glossy... thing, she could best describe with her vocabulary. A sort of cloak, she assumed by analogy, was draped behind. The legs, she decided, were connected by a sort of flexible strap, at least she assumed, they appeared to be connected at a juncture at the center beneath the box.

It, looked harmless enough.

Rose: "Well -"

Sparrow: "Yes!" That enthusiasm returned, the believer.

Rose: "Hold on! We can't jus' do this for free!"

Barnum reached and pulled a gold piece from his pocket: "Will this be an acceptable fee?"

One moment it was in Barnum's hands, the next swiped by Sparrow. The moment after, Rose found herself being pulled to the stage by her brother.

Rose: "Hey - hey! Sparrow!"

Sparrow: "C'mon, Rose, the man said it wouldn't hurt, and we get a gold piece!"

Rose frowned, standing on the stage now she had no choice, "...Alright."

Barnum positioned himself behind the box, "Now, all you have to do, is strike a pose and this box will transfarify your moment. Got that?"

Rose: "Wait - Tran-what?"

Sparrow: "Yep!"

Barnum ducked under the cloak of the box, a smile seen spreading before he disappeared: "Right! Strike a pose, my young friends! Ooo... I can't wait for this delivericum...!"

Rose, mumbled with narrowed eyes: "Does he even know what he's saying..."

Barnum: "Aaanytime now, my young friend."

Rose blinked, stalled: unsure of the capabilities of the box and what to do accordingly. Sparrow was already standing tall and straight with his arms curled to flex his heroic muscles.

Barnum: "C'mon, now, no need to be shy."

On the spot, the clock snailing along, being prompt, Rose acted: twisting her body with her left leg and arm forward, her arm tilted down.

And their whole world flashed white in a brief, overwhelming moment, them recoiling and blinking as the crowd cooed in amazement.

Barnum's head popped back up from behind the box, "Wondrous! This is going to be more popular than that pox!"

Recovering and recomposing themselves, stepping down from the stage, they heard Barnum continue: "Now! I just need to wait three months for the picture to develify, and I can start showing it around -!"

"Three months!" Came a voice from the crowd, carrying the unanimous sentiment of everyone else.

Having learned how to spot trouble from being on the streets, Rose and Sparrow scurried with skips in their steps into a nearby alley, continuing their task to find Derek's warrants. Reaching the end of the alley and turning the corner the whimpering got their attention: a young boy in ragged clothes, not surprising to see in Old Town, the two themselves were practically a testament to that - having their own clothes becoming patchwork-ish over time, slashing his toy sword at a dog, who was cowering with glassy black orbs.

His voice was fitting for a bandit-in-training: "C'mere' boi... Ah' got'ta treat fo'ya..."

His looks, his voice, the siblings knew the boy: Rex, the neighborhood bandit, self-entitled. The only person fearsome enough to power him, supposedly, was his mom. Rose and Sparrow were his rag dolls to ridicule and pummel once upon a time, when they found themselves wandering into Old Town from desperation. They never really crossed this part of Old Town because it was his turf, his words, living where they were primarily because of Derek, the hero taking the time to watch for the bully until he took his flare somewhere else.

But by the bottled frustration or not, Rose found herself racing up and behind Rex just as he was about to swing, Sparrow startled and grabbing cold air in going for Rose's arm.

Rose: "Hey! What the hell are you doing?!" Her voice being the only imposing trait about her.

Rex turned, and Rose felt a pang of regret: his crooked smile revealing his crooked teeth, eyes like she were staring down a fearl hound - he seemed to exude an air of imposing ferocity.

"'Avin' a'bit a' fun! Wha's et t'you?"

Things went too fast: as fast as she could register it, Rex's face was suddenly very close to her's, a flash of white light, and a pang smashed into her forehead. She yelped and she dropped to the ground, rolling up and holding her stinging forehead, kicking her feet and feeling tears swell in her eyes.

A kid from the tiny on-lookers: "He hit a girl!"

Rex turned, smiled, recognizing a boy off to the side: "Yea'? An' now Ah'm gonna 'it a'nother one!"

Hearing this, Rose's eyes snapped open, turned her body, suddenly dizzy, and, still holding her forehead, saw Sparrow and with her freehand tried pulling herself across the cold earth. But her body was locking up, not listening to her commands, as though all the hunger and hints of malnourishment was finally flooding and washing over her, all the scaffolding and supports of her willpower being torn down.

She could only watch, unaware she was gritting her teeth and the air was burning from a boiling within her.

Sparrow, having watched everything, found himself acting, instinct overriding any conscious input. His arm was a blur, his toy gun in his hand an appearing magic act. He pulled its trigger, and the projectile crashed between Rex's eyes - all happening during Rex's rush for him - and the bully yelped and held his face. Seeing this opening Sparrow rushed, dropping his gun, leaped, toy sword in both hands and high. The toy sword arched down in a dull, heavy-ish swish and bashed onto the crown of Rex's head with a resounding knock. That forcing Rex's head down, Sparrow sucked in air and swiftly swung his leg up with all his might, the tip of his shoe jabbing into Rex's nose, throwing his head back like a spring and off his feet. A spurt of blood arched through the air. He slammed on the back of his head and crumpled in a heap.

An awed silence settled upon everything.

Nobody moved.

Rose stared.

The on-lookers awed.

Rex unmoving, a tiny red pool growing at his nose.

Sparrow didn't put down his sword.

He stepped close.

And Rex sprang up, hearing Sparrow's footsteps, forgetting his toy. Both hands were cupping his nose, the lines of his folded hands becoming red, beading nearing his knuckles, and crimson streaks flowed from under his hands down to his chin and blossomed into red splotches onto the cold ground.

Blood spurt from his lips with tears in his eyes, the evil gravel in his gone, now weak and fearful: "S'dob, s'dob! Lea' me alone, ye' nu'ah!" And ran off.

It heralded by the cheers from the neighborhood kids: "The Bandit's socked! The Bandit's socked! Yay!"

And some voices:

"Did'ja see that?!"

"Yeah! He was so fast, it was almost like magic!"

Sparrow crossed straight to Rose, who was finally getting onto to their knees, able to move again: "Rose! Are you okay - are you bleeding?!"

Sparrow got to Rose's side and took her and helped her onto her feet, as such Rose looked at her hand to check if she were actually bleeding, the initial pain implying perhaps she had - there was nothing, only smears of dirt and dried flakes of dirty skin.

Rose: "Did you see 'im-"

Sparrow: "Yeah, I did! And you need to be careful!"

Rose gently pushed Sparrow away to stand on her own, rubbing her forehead, and caught herself when she swayed, "Thanks, but, I could'a taken him..."

Sparrow: "Rose... every time we get food, you give me most of it. You look more skinny than usual."

Rose didn't want to be reminded, lest her stomach roar in desperation for attention. It was coming close to that: an aching pain creeping on. And in Sparrow's touch, it were as though the cold were transferring from Sparrow's hand to her bones.

Rose didn't respond and instead went to the dog, stumbling and catching herself and insisting she was fine. The dog shrunk under the gaze of Sparrow and Rose, still whimpering in fear and anticipation.

Sparrow approached, at a distance that Rose deemed safe, and reached out: "Poor guy... we're not gonna hurt you. I think that's obvious," He stopped when the dog craned his head out and sniffed, and in turn licked his fingers.

Sparrow giggled, and pet the dog, "Aww... it doesn't look like you're hurt," Then his face lit up and turned to Rose, "Hey Rose, can we keep him!?"

Any ounce of fear, apprehension - the dog was slump, head dipping, and now was straight and tall, its brown eyes glittering like perals, giving a joyous bark.

But Rose: "Sparrow, we can't! We can barely get enough food just for ourselves, remember?"

Seeing Sparrow's face fall with the dog hanging his head back down, it reading the situation clear as crystal, it would have torn her heart if not the logic of their reality.

Rose: "I'm sorry, but we can't." The snatch Rose made was meant to be a grab for Sparrow's wrist, which she did catch but perhaps that blow from Rex kindled the frustration in her when tugging Sparrow to his fee, "C'mon. We gotta find those warrants."

Going on their way, Rose back to holding her forehead, Sparrow looked back and waved at the dog, who was watching them longingly, until it disappeared from sight. From that small area, they were now in another alley, which they weren't even out of when Rose felt the whole world spin, swaying with a waving motion in her head.

Sparrow took immediate notice, he raised his free hand in preparation to catch Rose. By how Rose let go of Sparrow and now held her head with both hands, Sparrow took it upon himself to take, carefully guiding, Rose to a wall for her to lean against, to rest.

Rose stayed that way a moment before she pushed herself off, stepped, and tilted off to the right, feeling a pull towards that direction - being caught by Sparrow again and replaced back against the wall.

Sparrow: "Okay. Maybe I should handle the, uh, the - I'll work for the gold, you just take it easy for now."

Rose: "No - Sparrow, I'm fine."

Pushing off the wall, it was only a repeat scenario.

Sparrow: "Rose, stop! I'll handle things!"

Rose: "I said I'm -"

"Yeah, and I bet Rex is fine too! Just - just, go easy for now, c'mon, Rose, let me help you sometimes. Well, us, right now."

Rose opened her mouth but a wave of nausea hit her and put a hand to her mouth, taking deep breaths. Sparrow's attention was to something else, caught from his peripherals, and went and stooped down for the thing right next to them on the ground. Picking it from the ground, Sparrow looked at it a moment, then presented it to Rose.

Sparrow: "Hey Rose, this is one of the warrants we're looking for, right?"

Rose took a moment to recompose herself before reading the contents of the paper, mumbling: "Leroy "Unremarkable" Stone... Known... Leory Has-Hair... Wanted for - yeah... This is one of them..."

Sparrow rolled up the slip, "I'll hold onto it, you look like yer gonna throw up."

Rose couldn't aruge anymore. Rex had knocked her down, but the affects of that injury were too much to ignore, and, as pointed out before by Sparrow, she wasn't exactly the most healthy out of them both.

"Fine... Just, be careful, okay. At least stay in my sight..."

Worry swam in Sparrow's eyes, Rose recognized that look, he was so close: "Was Rex's hit too much? Do I need to go back to Derek for help 'er something?"

Rose considered, but she shook her head: "No... Anyone can get those warrants, we... we gotta fin'em..."

Sparrowed frowned but complied, but first going to Rose, his arm going to Rose's back: "Can you walk on your own?"

Rose stared down at the ground a moment before taking a step: Rose was a wobbly table trying to keep balance of marbles on its desktop, rolling and rolling and rolling around, but she was getting used to her ill-body. Step, after step, after step, proof was shown to Sparrow that she was getting able to withhold her own.

So, Sparrow removed himself and went up ahead, glancing back occasionally at Rose walking along the wall with her hand running across its rough, ice-cold surface, a hand still to her mouth.

Onward, Sparrow spotted and obtained another warrant on the ground near a couple of boxes next to the stairs of a warehouse. In that meantime of Sparrow looking at the paper's details to be sure it was, indeed, a warrant -

"Hhaeee... Wharez mi'botl' gon'? Gat tuh - tuh... tuh, tah, tuh. Back, warez...?"

"Look at cher'self! Tha' bottle's only going to make yor life wors'! Lis'en t'yerself yer, even makin' the effort t' stand, no less!"

"Aiieee kin ssstand! Lo-loo'..."

"Y'know what - I'm glad that bottle of yor's is gon', you can shape up that way."

Carefully turning her head, Rose spotted a rotund decently dressed woman, by Old Town standards, with a man who looked no better than her and Sparrow combined, maybe worse, if anyhow possible - a tramp.

The Tramp ginned widely, "Ahhh-hhhhaaa... Ah no wher'ittis..." And pointed a limp finger down across the way into a small alley, "S'ova theh..."

The Woman scoffed, "There?! That's Magpie's alley! Bet even yor' drunken self knows how he deals with his things taken."

"Bu'... Bu' m'bottle..."

Rose noticed Sparrow following her eyes, "Its nothing lil' Sparrow, let them deal with their own -"

But Sparrow was off, towards to arguing two.

Rose: "Sparrow!"

Her call fell no deaf ears.

Rose sighed, she glanced at the objects and light poles she could use for leverage to keep herself up, took a deep breath, and stepped her way across, following Sparrow.

The marbles rolling and rolling, nausea lapping at her conscience, a sensing a sort of rush - an odd taste coming to her mouth. She paused to let it subside, at the very least prepare herself for the wild gush she was anticipating.

But it didn't happen, the waves receded, returning to normal.

In catching up:

"...gold piece..."

Admittedly, that was all she needed to hear to peak her interest.

Rose: "Hello. I'm sorry, hope my brother isn't causing much trouble."

Tramp: "Psshhaww... nut'tut'all! He'ss gun fun-fin' m'bottle! Fur'a gol' peece!"

Woman: "I think he meant find the bottle for me so the boy could have a gold coin."

Sparrow walked away, carefully guiding Rose to the boxes where he had found the second warrant.

After being put beside a box to lean against, Rose barely moved her head to glance back at the two: "Sparrow... you're not serious on giving that man his bottle?"

Sparrow, grimacing: "Hell no-"

Rose's hand smacked down Sparrow's greasy head, "Spar - row!"

Sparrow's hand went to his head, "Ow! Sorry sorry! Ow, you hit really hard!"

Something Rose agreed with by the waving of her hand, the pain of the hard impact stinging her palm and fingers.

Sparrow: "No, no I'm not," And he grimaced, "I don't like how he smells."

From the little the wind was nice enough to waft the Tramp's scent her way when she was caught up with Sparrow, she agreed.

Rose: "Yeah... Oh! I think that's the Magpie guy,"

Follow to where Rose was looking, Sparrow saw a man, another tramp it looked, in a small alley, sitting up, asleep, with his knees to his chest and head bobbing. Beside him was the bottle that was requested, a scroll of paper sticking out from the top.

Rose continued: "I think that's the bottle we're looking for. It looks like he's asleep."

Sparrow: "I'll go get it, just don't say anything."

Rose furrowed her brows - that was along the lines of something she was supposed to say. But, admittedly...

Sparrow took Rose's silence as an agreement and headed off, and slowed and took careful steps from the entrance of the alley onward. Slowing and slowing, tip toeing now in being in the vicinity of Magpie. He raised a thumbs-up in assurance he was doing fine.

Rose watched on, holding her breath. Possibilities of what might, could, and likely will happen if Magpie is wakes as Sparrow is swiping the bottle. If what the lady said was something to go on... worst case scenario Sparrow would die, or maybe get an injury which would slowly leech him over time. She held her breath. So enthralled she forgot about her episode of vertigo. She stared on, each possibility weighing heavier with each advance Sparrow made.

Step.

Step.

Step.

The snore was a crescendo, a ticking of how long Sparrow had before Magpie awoke, but he kept steady.

Step.

Step.

He was close now, just need to reach for the bottle -

"WHAzzuhhh... he'shhiveeehhh..."

Both Sparrow and Rose jumped at the abrupt sleep talk. Sparrow freezing at the occurrence, remembering the situation, in the case of somehow knocking something over and alerting Magpie awake; Rose almost let out a yelp but it was the only time she was grateful of an illness, her sudden movements had her world spin and that lapping in her throat returned, shutting her up.

Sparrow stared at Magpie a moment.

Nothing - still sleeping.

Sparrow reached down and snatched the bottle and fast-walked out and back to Rose.

"...Sparrow..." Rose said, hand close to her mouth, leaning against the box, "Are you okay?"

"Are you okay?" Sparrow looked his sister up and down with an arched brow, "I'm fine. Are you?"

Rose: "...Just, give me a minute."

Sparrow did, and Rose pushed herself off the box.

"Alright... Let's go."

Returning, Sparrow helping and slowing to get Rose along, they were before the the Lady and the Tramp again. Whereupon approaching them, Sparrow gave the bottle to the woman instantly, without hearing word from either of the, and the Lady dug into her pocket and a gold piece was given, then slid into Sparrow's pocket.

"Hold on. There's some paper in the bottle," The Lady took it out and skimmed it before handing it out to Sparrow, seeing that he still had the roll of papers in his hands, "I think this is your's."

Sparrow took it, looked at the details, he recognized the structure, and to Rose: "Another warrant! That's three!"

Rose weakly smiled, "Only two more..."

The Lady: "Dear gods, child! Are you okay?"

The Tramp: "Yeah. Yer looking a bit pale,"

The Lady turned to the Tramp: "Wow, you sobered up quickly - actually, hold on that a minute. Hang on, young lady, I'll see if I have spare potion for you to drink."

Rose: "Oh... No, you don't need t -"

Sparrow: "Are you sure that's okay?"

The Lady waved dismissively, "Psshh..." And entered her house, a moment passed and came out with a vial full potion, pulling the cork out and handing it to Rose, "Here. Drink it slow, not all at once. You'll only make yourself more sick if you do so."

Rose: "Oh... Uh, okay..."

Rose did as advised, taking careful sips and she was already feeling her sickness washing away, little by little, feeling her vertigo lessen, the dizziness becoming minute light-headedness, the nausea gradually disappearing.

Rose: "Um... Thank you..."

Another dismissive way of her hand, the Lady: "Don't worry about it. Learn how to accept hospitality, it'll make the hard things in life go easy."

A sheepish frown curved Rose's lips as she dipped her head, not making eye contact, "Um... Okay... Thank you..."

All the while Sparrow was smiling that things, even just for this moment, was letting up.

Rose, more confidently now: "Thank you."

The Lady smiled: "I have my own thing to worry about, but, your welcome."

Sparrow, after taking in their surroundings during the conversation, pulled at Rose's sleeve, "Rose, look, there's another one!"

Rose waved good-bye as she followed her brother.

Another warrant was found, on the ground before a light post.

Sparrow hopped in place: "Only one more!"

Rose: "But, where is it? I mean, besides those stairs," She pointed to them diagonally across from them, "And that warehouse up there."

Sparrow: "Let's cheek the stairs then."

They did, by a glance, before Rose pulled Sparrow in by grabbing his hand and pushing him away.

Sparrow: "E-Hey! Rose, what's wrong!?"

"There's nothing over there, there's no warrant there."

"But you don't know that, we didn't even see if a warrant was there!"

"I did. And there isn't."

To prove her point, Rose shoved Sparrow with all her might that her body could allow.

Sparrow frowned: "Alright!" And walked on, towards the warehouse.

Rose followed behind, ice chilling her spine, hands shaking, taking more and more sips of the potion, mind drifting to the fallen wagon, the coffins standing, on their sides, or stacked atop each other, snow piling on the unmoving body of a man in robes. An image captured in her mind, the more she thought of that body the more that body disappeared until two bodies of children took its place.

Sparrow glanced back, and worry spread on his face: "Rose, are you okay?"

"Yeah... Fine..." Thinking it now, the air was becoming hotter and a minor burning sensation was building in her stomach.

Sparrow stopped, staring a moment before, "Alright. The lady said not to drink so much, remember?"

Rose nodded, taking another sip before corking the vial and keeping the potion in-hand for now.

Going up the stairs, Sparrow spotted a man before the large heavy door of the warehouse, staring intently with his arms crossed, hand tapping at his forearm. At an interval, the man wiped the cold sweat off of his brow then propping his chin on his hand and hunching, still eying the door.

The two approached but their footsteps were silence to the man.

Rose, this time: "Hello. Is there something wrong."

The man jumped, finally realizing that he had a two-man audience, "Oh! Oh, uh... you see, ehm... You two, don't happen to have a... fear of, beetles... do'ya?"

Rose: "No. That's ridiculous."

Sparrow: "Why? Are you afraid?"

The man's eyes shifted: "Well... Eh-e-I - yeah... There are beetles in there right now, and I gotta get in t'make sure all of my stock is intact."

Sparrow: "Well... Y'know, maybe for one gold we can do that for you."

The man's face lit up like the stars in the night sky, arms shooting out wide: "You would do that fer me! Oh, thank Avo!" His hand stabbed into his pocket, then stopped, assessing what he was doing, "Pay, after the deed is done."

The man went to the door, pulled a handle, and gave a sharp tug to crack the door open, peeking in, eyes shifting, scanning the room, and turned to Sparrow and Rose: "Okay. The buggers are on the second floor, up the stairs - oh wait!"

The man's hand smack onto his head, realizing: "You only have a piece of wood! No doubt they're -"

Sparrow merely pulled his toy gun, and the man's face was like the sun.

"Ah-ha! Yes yes yes! That'll do it!" He tugged the door wide for Sparrow and Rose to enter, "Shoot the beetles, shoot t'kill. And, uh, while yor inside try not to break any of my stock, okay?"

Sparrow, remembering he hadn't reloaded his gun since his fight with Rex, loaded his gun as he walked in "Got it."

Rose: "I'll make sure none of them get out."

.The Man: "As long as they're gone and none of my stuff is broken,"

Them inside, the man pulled the door closed. Inside, the buzzing of wings and what sounded to be soft crunching came from the upstairs floor.

Sparrow, eying that floor: "We should probably check this part of the building first."

Rose uncorked the potion, took a sip, and recorked it: "That's what I was about to say."

A quick check yielded nothing.

Sparrow took one step on the stairs when a familiar face was framed on the nearby window: "Oi, kid!:

Rose frowned, brows furrowing, she caught the glance thrown her way, that same magnifying glass of perversion upon her, "What, do you want?"

Sparrow looked to Rose, eyes wide: her voice had never been so ice cold.

Just by her voice, that grin... that grin that always spread across his face; he gave another glance to Rose.

That was the only ounce of attention he gave her before returning to Sparrow: "Balthazar owes protection money t'Nicky 'The Nickname', an' he hasn't paid. If y'smash up his - 'Ey! Where're you goin'!"

Sparrow flew up the stairs, two steps per step until the tip of his shoe caught the edge of the second to last step and face planted onto the floor of the second floor, groaning. Regardless, he pushed himself up and disappeared behind the floor paneling.

There, the crunching of exoskeletal bones and dying yelps resounded the room.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

A fourth.

A fifth.

The sixth and last - a blur threw itself down from the second floor and landed on Rose's shoulder. A smell wafted into her nose, a small green spot growing on her shoulder. Rose stared at the green fleshy piece a moment until the realization hit her and she yelped, face twisting to fear, and jumped and wiped furiously at her shoulder.

Thereafter, Sparrow swaggered down the stairs, grinning ear-to-ear, and at the foot of the steps, blew imaginary smoke from his toy gun to the man smoldering at the window, gripping its framing.

"You lil - ! Did you know what Ah had t'do t'get those beetles!?" He pushed himself off the window, his eyes becoming gun barrels, "Ah'll remember this..." And walked off.

Rose and Sparrow stared at the window a moment before they addressed each other:

Rose: "You okay?"

"I should be asking you that."

"Why?" Rose regretted that - that face she knew of Sparrow returned.

"I know he's trying to have you do something you don't like, Rose."

Rose froze, the air suddenly colder than normal. Then her face burned: where had Sparrow heard such a thing? At the very least, she had made sure to be tight lipped about this issue and that Sparrow had no way of knowing.

But she played it safe: "What do you mean 'something I don't like', Sparrow?"

He shrugged: "I don't know. I just know he wants you to do something you don't want to do, that's all I know."

Rose sighed in relief, being sure it seemed like a deep breath, "Let's just get out gold from... Balthazar, I assume his name is."

Rose knocked on the door: "We're done!"

The door cracked open, nervous shifting eyes peeking through, glancing about, "Really?"

Sparrow: "Yep! You can go..." He waved his finger to the stairs, trying to find a word to describe what he needed to say.

Rose: "To the second floor."

"Right! To the second floor and see for yourself.

Balthazar slipped in and did. Him coming down thereafter the two were under a beaming sun again: "Haha! A massacre, what, a, massacre - well done!" Fishing into his pocket, out came a piece of gold and tossed it to Sparrow, who caught it, "Thank you, kids! Thank you thank you!"

Then his glee was replaced by puzzlement: "Now that I think about it... how 'id those bugga's get in?"

Leaving, them going down the steps to the warehouse, Rose: "Wow, you made him really happy. Didn't know you were so good at fighting."

Sparrow: "Uh..." He frowned, eyes shifting as he looked for an answer, then finally shrugged.

Rose: "So, how many warrants do we have so far?"

Sparrow was about to count the many they had when a bark caught their attention. They looked and Sparrow only saw one thing when he broke off towards the dog.

Saying: "The last warrant!"

Rose followed after hearing this.

Sparrow scooped up the warrant from the ground, not even checking it, before he pet, hugged, and running his hands along the dog's fur.

Because Sparrow didn't do it, Rose took that same warrant to be sure it actually was a warrant: "Hey, he found one for us," A smile pulled her lips, "Good boy!"

Then she saw the dog's eyes, and her face fell: "Aw, I know, you're sweat,"

Sparrow looked to Rose with that same face again, but she didn't need to say anything for him to remove himself.

Rose: "But I told you before, we can't keep you. C'mon, lil' Sparrow. We've got all the warrants Derek needs."

Sparrow: "Yeah..."

Yet again, a repeat scenario, Sparrow looked back as they reentered the alley that brought them to that part of Old Town and waved. Making their way through that small area where Sparrow destroyed Rex the group of kids were still there. In passing by, one of the kids stopped them:

"Hey,"

Sparrow: "Yeah?"

Rose: "Is something wrong?"

The kid was rubbing his thumbs on his fingers: "I saw a... uh, a man with a broken hat walking by, and I... I think he said something about your name," He pointed to Sparrow, "Just, um... wanted to tell you about it."

Sparrow saw the boy dip his head down, looking up and turning away. Turning, he never thought he would see Rose look so much older with her face creased with a scowl. The scowl itself, he knew, was aimed at no one in particular, but the poor boy didn't know that.

Sparrow glanced between Rose and the boy, took Rose's hand, said thanks to the boy, and pulled Rose on their way to the elongated alley going back to Murgo's caravan. Which, they stopped inside when seeing the man at the center of the alley.

He crossed his arms, his face that of a grumpy cat's: "Stop right there, you runts."

Rose said nothing, glaring, scowl deepening, the fire growing high inside her.

Sparrow: "What the hell do you want."

"Shut it, Big Man. Thos' war'ants yor c'llecting - I want 'em."

Sparrow: "So does Derek."

"Yeah, but yor gon' give it t'me, see? Otha'wise they'll be tru'ble."

Sparrow: "Yeah, trouble for us, THEN trouble for you when we tell everyone what you really want."

That struck him, his face blank but consideration swimming across his face, "All right,! Fine! What's he paying? A gold piece? Ah got a gol' piece right 'ere, save you the walk back."

Sparrow stared. He pursed his lips, gripping Rose's hand, who he could feel was still tunneling her hate at the man before them. Balthazar... the beetles in his warehouse, his fear being used against him. That and the fact this man was associated with the criminals in the warrants, spotting the name he had spoken before - Nicky 'The Nickname.' If this man took the warrants... what would happen to Derek, the people of Old Town, to them?

Sparrow kept staring, trying to figure a path to slip past this man by his peripherals, but this alley was too elongated that there was so little space for them to slip by this man, him taking up most of it by standing in the middle - at least, that what it seemed to him. He tried playing the faking game, looking down with shifting eyes to look indecisive. He miscalculated: the alley was wider than he thought, enough that they could run past without trouble, but reach was their enemy.

A fully grown man.

Two still growing kids.

The man stepped forward: "Wha's it gonna be?"

Sparrow looked up at his face, by his decision before with the beetles, and this guy looked like one to hold a grudge, rejection would only go bad, with him having the initiative.

There was only one way.

"Well?"

Sparrow pulled his gun, fired.

The man jerked, stepping back, screaming and holding his right eye.

Sparrow broke for it, pulling Rose, swerving to the right and getting thrown to the ground by a hard kick to his gut, his gun flying out of his hand and yelping. He rolled up, held his stomach, rolling on the ground.

The man: "You lil' - !"

The man was thrown to the ground, looking up at his assailant to see a furious balverine of a child, Rose, finally released and raring to dish out its furry.

Blow after blow, hooks, straights, jabs, bashes to the crown - wherever there was an opening to his face, at the very least his head, Rose struck, heightened by the fire inside of her finally spewing by the wind granted to it, this moment and situation. If she were aware, Rose would have realized how good she was with her fists. Which, as the steam was blown, she regained some awareness and a smile stretched her face at the sight of this man finally leaking blood by her hand. She raised both fists and hammered them down again and again, feeling joy at revenge and her vision snapped to the right; her mind crashed to a stop, reason finally slipping back in and trying to process what had just happened.

A fist swerved into her view and she was looking left.

Another fist and she was thrown to the ground.

On the cold stone, pain wormed its way back to her conscience and she touched her face to feel the welts swelling, not so farfetched in a stupor when she saw the shoe. White light. A pang of pain under her right eye. Another force hit her face. The blood on her hands told her that her nose had been hit. Kicks and stomps pummeled her body.

And cry split the air: "Derek!"

The man turned to Sparrow: on his knees, holding his stomach, and leaning against the wall.

Sparrow screamed out his throat: "Derek! Help! Derek!"

Footsteps clapped their way.

And the man turned his heels and ran off down the alley, not before Derek skidded around the corner, saw the deed done, "Halt!"

When there was no comply, Derek fired off his gun. In giving chase, he paused, glancing at Sparrow and Rose before Sparrow waved his hand for him to go and he did.

Sparrow looked for the potion vial and found it nearby: Rose had dropped it and now a long crack trailed up the body of the vial, slowly leaking. A stroke of luck, considering that Rose herself was like a cannon that had just fired itself when she pounced at that man. Uncorking the vial he went to Rose. who was unmoving, hands to her face, blood seeping between them.

Sparrow knelt, grunting at the pain in his abdomen: "Rose... Here. Drink the rest."

Rose removed one hand to reach for the potion and Sparrow saw this window of his sister's bloodied and bruised face. She stopped her hand to wipe her hand on her clothes for the blood, and once taking it she got to her knees, turned away and drank, gratefully sipping. The vial was drained, now empty, and with her turning to Sparrow the evidence was still lingering: the smeared blood, the minor swelling, and the blossoming bruises, her eye slightly dark.

Having nothing to use, Rose turned away again and resorted to using her skirt to wipe away the best she could by the reach, then to using her sleeve.

Sparrow: "You okay, Rose?"

Rose: "I should be asking you that, you got kicked in the stomach."

Sparrow pointed: "Look at you, and all that blood on your skirt - I'm fine!"

They stayed there in the alley, checking their persons for any other injuries when Derek came back, huffing and puffing.

Derek: "Go' away. Damn him. Ah' didn't think Arfur wou'd go so low t' attack children. Do you have my warrants? With them, Ah'll be able to put away his criminal friends."

Sparrow unraveled the warrants and handed them to Derek, who counted them up: "Yep, that's all of 'em! Now, normally pay wouldn't be done for this kind of work, but," He fished a gold coin from his pocket, but, "And, for a sympathetic bonus," In giving the coin he had also pulled a potion from his belt and handed it to Rose.

Rose: "Thank you," And she uncorked it and sipped it.

Sparrow: "Actually, can you do something about that man as soon as you can? He tried to pay us to break Baltha - Bal - Bal -"

Rose: "Balthazar."

Sparrow: "Yeah, he tried to pay us to break his stuff after he put beetles in his warehouse. And, uh..." He glanced at Rose: "He... wants... Rose..."

Rose's head snapped to Sparrow, him suddenly nervous and looking away from Rose.

Hearing all this, Derek was a flip book of emotions: stoic to the pay job, interest in the beetles, and slipping into anger about the last.

Derek took a deep breath: "You two have been through a lot. If it were my choice, I would have brought you two in, but, my life and my duty are in the way - some are more better in keeping their life straight. No promises, I'll do everything I can to get Arfur and... No promises but I'll try to keep an eye on your alley."

Hearing this, Rose didn't notice the tears until they slipped from her eyes.

Sparrow warmly smiled: "Thanks, Derek."

And he smiled; "Yor welcome. Now, I gotta get these turned in," He held up the warrants, "Ah'll be back as soon as I can. Take care of yor'selves."

Sparrow: "We will, thanks!"

Derek smiled before going on his way.

After being sure Rose was fully healed by Sparrow's inspection she made him drink the last contents in case he had internal bleeding, her words.

They ambled out of the alley, passing the stage - all empty, Barnum gone - and was now before Derek's post box. Rose counted their amount while Sparrow tried getting peeks of the inside of the caravan from where they stood.

Rose: "We have four now, we just need one more."

Sparrow glanced around: "But, what's there left to -"

"Get in the house Belinda!"

The two jumped in hearing that womanly nail cross the chalk board. They looked to the source, seeing a sour-faced woman that could rival Rose's anger streak on the balcony of a nearby house.

"Clean that floor, Belinda! You're no betta' than that no-good, Monty. And you... Push off, before I call the guards! You animal..."

The woman disappeared into the house, while Monty, the man before the house, head hung, shuffled to a stall selling alcohol.

Sparrow beat his wings, following the wind, and Rose had no choice but to follow.

Sparrow: "Hi, there! Is something wrong?"

Monty looked up at Sparrow and Rose: "Oh, children! My situation is unbearable! Me and Belinda... oh... I love her so, but her mother -"

Rose, eyes widened and furrowing brows, "That's her mother?"

That topic a hand, Rose fought to remember their mother, as much as she could remember she was never as harsh as Belinda's mother. Yes, she would shout and raise her voice at times but it was usually within reason given the situation. Rose looked down and smiled, remembering the times their mother would raise her voice at Father, too kind of a soul, almost encouraging their fun. But, overall, it was clear to the both of them that she care about them dearly.

"Yes," Monty confirmed, "And she treats her like a servant - no doubt you saw. Such as shame," He sighed, "If only... if only we could run away together?"

Sparrow, head tilted to the side, merely, matter-of-factually: "Well, why don't you?"

Rose: "Sparrow!"

Sparrow turned his head to Rose, blank faced with a mere: "What?"

Monty: "Actually..." They looked up and saw realization burst into hope on his face, "I think that could wor! Yeah! Give a me a minute."

He turned away, to his beverage stall and searched, revealing he had paper in some compartment in the stall. He took a pen and scribbled in decent penmanship, all that Rose could judge from her distance. Which, had her thinking of her own writing - her journal. Thinking it now, when she makes her wish perhaps she could make a name for herself in writing, a novelist or maybe a journalist. Just them finally being in comfort doesn't mean they still shouldn't find ways to look out for themselves.

Maybe she could make it as a writer, all she need would be the right tutor or teacher, maybe teach herself from reading books in the castle library: she was... decent, at best, but there would be plenty of time for improvement, wouldn't there?

Monty, still writing, Rose looked up at the sky, the cogs of her mind turning:

'The setting sun colored the clouds in orange and shades of purple,

Turning the falling snow into peaches floating from its white trees above,

Floating and floating,

Pretty, yet cruel,

Spreading heavy white and bringing the ever cold,

Winter shows off for itself.'

Rose swiped a snow flake from the air and felt it melt in her palm, which she opened to look at thereafter, staring.

Her face fell.

And a thought finished the poem-like piece:

How can something so sweet be so cold?

Taking it all together - it wasn't half bad, given that most of her reading material was temporary or falling in tatters. Of course, once they get inside the castle she would surely have all the time in the world to sharpen these prose thoughts of her's. A smile pulled her lips thinking of all the stories she would discover, stories that she could read to Sparrow, stories that she could keep close to her heart.

"Alright!" The sound of Monty's voice shoved the pages of fantasies in Rose's mind aside.

Monty folded, slid in an envelope, and presented a letter to Sparrow, which he took in his hand, "Give this to Belinda - Not! Not, to her mother, okay? To Belinda. This could be the chance where we could finally be happy together."

Sparrow gave an affirmative nod and raced to the door of Belinda's house. When Rose followed behind, she saw - she never thought she would actually see this in this part of Bowerstone, this part of their life: a genuine smile was stretched across Sparrow's face, something she hadn't seen in a - well, something that seemed like forever if she were being honest, as far as she could remember. Those other smiles that she could remember in recent times, those times where he assured her that he was fine - they all seemed so fake now. The smiles they shared together were authentic, but his face was as bright as the sun.

Which, did make her happy, but a pang of loneliness shot through her: all this time, Sparrow seemed to be having fun - but what about her? Where was her fun?

Or rather: when will she have fun?

Well, once they get inside Castle Fairfax...

Well... but, there's, also the chance that...

Would she finally have her own fun? After all this time, all this struggling for her and Sparrow?

Arriving at the door, Rose shook her head as Sparrow knocked - now was not the time to be questioning now, not after everything they had done, had done to provoke Arfur into desperate violence.

The door opened.

"What do you want?"

That demanding, authoritative voice washed over Sparrow and Rose, freezing them to the spot.

Rose's mouth worked on its own: "Um... We're here to deliver a letter. Um... we need one gold for the postage."

The mold in Belinda's Mother's face broke away, relaxing: "Oh, well, why didn't you just say so while knocking on the door?" But she didn't give them time to answer, already gesturing, "C'mon on in."

Obliging, they entered the cramped living, dinning, kitchen room-mix and stopped before Belinda's Mother, who was at a cabinet.

"Now... where did I put that pot? It's here somewhere, I know it is. Where did I..."

Rose stared, staring at the back of Belinda's mother, her thoughts racing back to their own dead mother, trying to remember exactly how she acted before both her and Sparrow and when alone or with others. Never having thought that it was possible from the love of a Mother to her child to force her own flesh and blood into maid-labor. If it was the same with them when their mother was alive, how would they have fared? But, the more Rose thought of the possibility the more ridiculous the prospect became - just one of those curiosities.

There was a pull on her sleeve: Sparrow, pointing at the stairs nearby, then up at the second floor. Rose glanced back at Belinda's mother, still searching for the money pot, and shook her head, afraid that saying anything would advise Belinda's Mother that there was something amiss.

But Sparrow was stepping away.

Rose reached.

"Just stay right there," Belinda's Mother said, "I'll find it in a minute... Sod, where did I..."

The two froze hearing those words. But this granted Sparrow the opportunity to continue on, tip-toeing leaving Rose behind and swiping at the air for him to return to her side to no avail. On the steps, Sparrow was quick and took care in the pressure of his footing until he paused, pointing to Rose, then to his eyes, then to Belinda's mother before disappearing into the second floor.

There, the winter air seemed to seep through the walls and the foundation of the house and swirled and choked Rose, even so much as freezing her on the spot: wide-eyed and tense and hunched, frowning hard that her lips were white, eyes bouncing to and fro from Belinda's Mother to the top of the stairs. So tense, so suffocating, watching every movement of Belinda's Mother still painstakingly looking for that money pot, borderlining on panic so much that if Belinda's Mother finally found that gold coin she was actually freeze. And she finally let out a breath upon seeing Sparrow tip-toe with that sort of off finesse from before.

Sparrow eyed Beldina's Mother, keeping Rose in his peripherals, whom he grabbed upon reach distance and pulled her along until they made out and clear of the house, dashing and turning into the corner that led back to their shack.

Before Rose could speak, Sparrow shoved his hand into his pocket and was presented to her.

She stared blankly, mind processing...

Five...

Five...!

Five!

Rose's face was suddenly as bright as the sun, shrieking and snatching Sparrow close, crushing him in a strength that betrayed her state health - Sparrow grunting and seizing up.

Sparrow, wincing: "Rose Rose Rose!" His voice gutturally strained, tapping on his sister's back, "Can't breathe, can't breathe!"

Rose removed herself at once, her hands on her brother's shoulders, who saw the genuine glee that he never thought he would see again, "Sorry sorry, its just - we - ! Eeee-he-he!" She took Sparrow into another hug, not as hard this time, and tears slipped down her face.

Sparrow: "Rose, we should get the box before someone else does!"

Rose pulled herself away, suddenly straight and tall, "Right! C'mon, lil' Sparrow!"

Rose raced over to Murgo's Caravan while Sparrow ambled after, adding the final coin to the pile once pulling them out, taking a moment's glance at the drama playing from the balcony of Belinda's house - Belinda on the balcony, Monty and her Mother beside each other - that Rose seemed oblivious of.

Hearing it all, his face fell but forced it to be wiped clean upon catching up with Rose, barely noticing Murgo's greeting.

Where Rose: "We've come to buy the music box!"

Murgo chuckled: "Well! If yor' this happy and excited, suwly you have tha' gold t'buy it, wight?" And he held out his hand, in which Sparrow handed the gold, "Very well! Its yor's. Turn the handle thwee times, but, make sure its somewhere pwivate."

Murgo grinned, "Don't want some t'steal youw wish now, do ya'?"

Rose snatched the music box from where it sat: "Not in their life! C'mon, Sparrow, c'mon!"

They raced down the alley leading to their shack, Rose further on than Sparrow, spurred on by excitement and finality, finality of their life changing for the good. Sparrow passed that small clearing before the way to their shack but skidded to a stop when Rose stopped before a box in the clearing.

Sparrow, going and standing beside Rose: "Is something wrong?"

Rose: "No." She looked at Castle Fairfax, "I just want to look at the castle when I make my wish."

When Rose turned to Sparrow, he put on a smile.

Rose: "Is that okay?"

Sparrow: "Whatever you think's best."

Rose set the music box on the box-top, glanced at the castle of imagination, and took hold of the music box and took the handle. But when Rose turned away from Sparrow, his face fell, and he stared at his sister.

And his thoughts wandered:

Rose turned the handle once: "I wish..."

- I wish... -

Twice: "I wish..."

Thrice: "That..."

- I... -

The top of the music box opened, triangular pieces pointing to the sky, heralding the yellow light that glowed as the song of the music box played, its handle turning on its own as though by a mechanism. And as the song went on, the intensity of the light grew.

Brighter.

Brighter.

The song began to distort once the light turned red, the box spinning and spinning.

Sparks of light flashed out from the box.

It spun faster and faster, and in a blinding flash there was a whoosh and when their eyes settled on the box top the music box was gone.

All life seemed to quiet and stand to a halt.

Rose stared.

Sparrow stared.

Both blank.

Then the wind came alive with a gust that blew in their faces, brushing their hair, their clothes, their forms.

Brushing away hope.

Rose stepped to the box with stiff purpose, and delivered a hard kick with grit teeth. The box jumped, whined, and creaked as a crack veined its surface. Another and her foot crashed through. Another, and another.

One.

Two.

Three.

She stopped, whipping her head left and right for something, Sparrow catching the flared mask of pure anger - she spotted a wooden board off to the side that she grabbed and bashed with all her might, screaming the reserve of anger and sorrow and emotion out to a world that wouldn't bother to even lend an ear.

Bash bash bash, break break break.

She didn't notice the numbness and aching in her hands or the tears and watery vision, not even the pain in her foot until the fire within her finally died down, the box reduced to reduced to fire wood, or panels for the shack.

She looked up at Sparrow, a sombre blank face staring at her; him looking into the broken face of his sister; this was something Rose fought to hide from Sparrow in this whole ordeal.

Rose became downcast, looking down for a long moment, them staying that way for a moment while life was alive all around them.

Then finally, Rose, defeated so deep, mumbled: "...Le's go t'bed..."

She shuffled along, hunched, head hung. Sparrow walked along when she finally met him, him staying beside her until half way to their shack when he embraced her warmly and desperate to reach her.

"I love you."

A moment of silence, then: "Mhm..."

Sparrow kept hold of Rose as though that were keeping her from her breaking apart, and when they returned home they saw a familiar face waiting for them.

A familiar bark.

Rose: "...Whatever..."

The dog tilted its head.

Rose shuffled into the shack, kicked her journal to her bedroll, and set herself down on her side, clutching her journal to her chest. She closed her eyes, nearly into sleep, but opened them again when feeling a small arm wrap over her waist: Sparrow, he snuggled into Rose.

Rose didn't find any worth to argue.

She closed her eyes and slipped into empty sleep, waking at an interval of subjective seconds later from something shaking her. Opening her eyes, Sparrow wasn't beside her like before.

"Rose, c'mon, wake up, wake up!"

Rose dragged her body to turn: "...Ssparrow? What's..."

In the light of the moon, Rose could make out the delight in Sparrow face.

Sparrow: "C'mon, get up!" He pulled her up from her bedroll, adding, "Your wish came true!"

That sobered Rose at least to a coherent degree: "Wait... what?"

Sparrow pulled Rose to the steps of their shack where then Rose could see the bulky forms, the uniforms, and armed persons of four guards before their home at a comfortable distance.

Rose: "What?"

One of the guards saw Rose's confusion: "We were tasked by Lucien to escort you two to him."

Rose: "Derek?" Rose was still trying to pull herself out of sleep and wiped her eyes.

Derek: "That's right. I said I would help protect you kids, didn't think it would last this long."

Rose went to and scooped her journal from her bedroll, stuffed it in the inside pocket of her vest, and pulled Sparrow along to the guards' side, that brightness of hope from hours before reignited.

When hearing the dog whine and whimper: "Its okay, doggy. We're going to Lord Lucien's castle! We'll come back for you, I promise!"

Then to Derek: "C'mon c'mon, let's go to the castle!"

Derek held up his hands: "Okay, okay. Since when did you become your brother?"

The darkness of the night seemed to pave way for the moonlight that lit their paths to Castle Fairfax, a linear path that shadowed all others. The closer and closer they came to the Castle the more Rose found herself shaking, her breathing becoming ragged from excitement alone. So much that one of the guards outright asked if the cold was getting to her.

She merely smiled: "No. I'm just so happy!"

She glanced at Sparrow, who put on a smile for her, which fell the moment Rose looked away. Him staring at her, the oceans of concern in his eyes shone in the moonlight, an exclusive light show for anyone with the eye to notice.

In the castle grounds, the white blankets enchanted the grey masonry of deitic proportions. Towering, imposing, an architectural beauty set against the deep navy blue of the night sky accentuated by the graceful spotlight that was the moon. A breeze awakened the skeletal trees to wave hello, and the front door opened to opulence inside, the warmth their immediate greeter.

One of the guards turned to Derek: "Ah'rite, Derek, there's no need for the rest of us to go any further. This is the royal castle, after all. No doubt there are other parts of Bowerstone that need more attention."

Derek: "Don' worry, Ah'll 'andle 'em, they're good kids. So there shou'dn't be any worry."

The guard nodded and the guards made there way back into the dark, back into the cold winding ways of the night.

Derek turned to Sparrow and Rose: "Well, the rest of the way shou'd be easy, from 'ere. Jus' be sure to not touch anythin', right?"

But the two weren't listening: the decor, the richness of beautiful and antiqual design and furniture - they walked along, guided by their wonderment to see more of this lush wonderland. Derek caught up and set the rules straight, bringing the two relatively back to put their feet back on the ground.

They made their way through the castle, taking in as much as they could and process just how much all of this would have cost, the money into putting craft and time to making the beauty - all of that accumulated would have made them both meagerly rich in imagining the gold.

They entered the throne room, the eponymous item sitting far opposite to them on the other side of the room. The space, the wideness, the proportions, and the columns parallel practically gesturing to the throne, the intricacy of the golden designs on the purple carpets -

Rose: "Wow..."

Derek: "Yeah. Royalty gits awl of the beauty that makes 'em stand out as such, doesn't mean they didn't earn it though."

Derek glanced at the four doorways, altogether, two on each sides of the room: "Now... If I 'member right, Lucien's study is... this way."

At Derek's motioning, Rose and Sparrow followed. But, Sparrow couldn't tear his eyes away from the throne. There was something that seemed so attractive, something that seemed to pull him so much as wanting to go there that made him eye it until it was out of sight, but even then he kept glancing back, even stepping up the spiral stair case.

At the top of the stair case, standing at a pair of double doors was a man, who turned to them upon noticing. By his dress, Rose accounted him to be the butler, glancing down as Sparrow she could see the confusion, he had his head titled with an arched brow. If anything, the first question, Rose guessed, that Sparrow would ask, if he wanted to: why did this man's hair look so weird? Something she wouldn't be able to answer - who made it butler rule for them to wear a sort of... wig, she believed the word was.

Derek: "'Ello, Jeeves, these are the children that Lucien asked for. Don't worry, they're great kids, they wouldn't cause any trouble."

Jeeves turned to them with appraising eyes: "I see...and in high spirits, it seems." That, he said to Rose, who looked away with a frown, rubbing her neck.

Derek: "Don' worry kids, Jeeves has been the family's butla' fer years, he won't harm you." He nodded to Jeeves and stepped back down the stairs.

Jeeves nodded back, regardless: "Thank you for your regards. Now, hello children."

Rose smiled: "Hello, sir."

Jeeves turned to and opened the doors and a red carpet atop mahogany flooring and walls was revealed before them, "Follow me, please, I'll leave to that guard's word that you'll do so without any trouble."

Rose snatched Sparrow's hand into her's, which had Sparrow look up at her that Jeeves could describe as sombre.

Rose: "Of course we wouldn't!"

Jeeves paused a moment, then: "Very well," And gestured for them to follow.

As they walked:

Rose: "We look up at this castle everyday and think of how nice it is, we both do. But, its more beautiful than I imagined."

Jeeves: "Yes, quite wonderful, is it?"

Sparrow said nothing, only looking up at his sister, having deemed that this decor in this part of the castle was nothing less than what he had seen before. Only when the dark man dressed in blue with blue markings on his body walked into his peripherals did he take his eyes off of her. Rose saw, too: they weren't tattoos, per say - they glowed and seemed to exude a strange... power, the best word that could describe it. And by his posture, the gait - the way he walked - the way he gave them the barest glance - a wide air of power circled him, gusting the two that they stepped aside despite him being no where near them.

Jeeves: "Ah! Hello, Master Garth."

This Garth said nothing as he passed, staring ahead and seemingly stiff. This - well, it could have just been their imagination, but, for a moment, there on his arm, a small blue lightning arched and was gone.

Both Rose and Sparrow eyed him as they walked for a long moment before looking back forwards.

Jeeves: "Hmph. A man of few words."

The air still charged with a trace of Garth's presence, Rose, wanting to get her mind off of it: "Where is the grand dinning hall?"

"Oh, in the north wing. Lord Lucien hasn't been there since... well, since the tragic deaths of Lady Fairfax and little Amelia."

"Oh..." Rose winced, that air of power now topped with sorrow, and the room seemed to get hot, "I've heard. So awful."

"Yes... He, misses them terribly."

Sparrow pointed to a portrait, finally speaking: "Is that them?"

They all stopped and looked: a family portrait of the Fairfax family in better times, Lord and Lady Fairfax elegant, their daughter just the same; Lady Fairfax showed to be an equal match for Lucien in beauty - blue sapphires and flowing light orange down her back, a face that would be crafted from a master craftsmen, her thin lips pulled into a smile. Amelia Fairfax seemed to take more after her mother with some features taken from her father: inheriting blue eyes but her hair was blonde tinted red, either from her mother's side or Lucien's. By the portrait alone, Amelia seemed to be at the or around the age of Rose, at odds with the round, childish face, and her holding a teddy bear close - altogether implying at first glance her being younger.

Jeeves cleared his throat: "Yes... clearly in, better times."

Rose: "So, where does he eat?"

That had gotten them back on track, continuing on.

"Actually, he takes most of his meals in his study. He's in there, all hours, doing research."

Rose: "What does he research?"

"History, mostly, he keenly interested in antiquity of all sorts, but, is chiefly interested in things pertaining to the Old Kingdom."

Rose: "There was a trader in Old Town that said his stuff was from the Old Kingdom."

"Yes, yes, I believe Lord Lucien... heard about that."

A smile pulled Rose's lips: "We bought a piece of it, made a wish, a now we're here!"

They were now arriving at another double door, and Jeeves turned to them, "Well that's wonderful! Now, when you meet Lord Lucien be respectful at all times. Address him as 'M'Lord', speak only when spoken to,"

Rose: "Yes, sir."

Sparrow: "Okay."

"And do not, mention Lady Fairfax or Amelia."

With that, Jeeves opened the double door, motioning them in to a circular study whose two walls were filled with shelves of books; directly opposite them was a stained glass window which had a stone circle with a design that couldn't be made out from where they stood. But to the left of that circle stood the man of castle, hunched over a desk that had copious papers and open books, tracing a finger over a line of text on a paper before turning to Rose and Sparrow.

Lucien Fairfax.

Lucien: "Children! It has come to my attention that you had acquired some sort of box, " He stepped closed for their attention, "May I see it?"

Rose: "It vanished, M'Lord. We made a wish -"

Sparrow, matter-of-factually: "You mean you did."

Rose nudged her elbow into Sparrow's shoulder for him to shut up, which worked, giving Lucien a chuckle.

Rose: "We made a wish, it glowed... and it disappeared."

Lucien's eyes became inquisitive: "After you used it?"

Sparrow: "Yeah, the trader that we got it from said it was magic, so we wanted to use it," Having forgotten an essential thing, Rose elbowed him again, "Ow, what?"

But Lucien continued on regardless: "The box is of no interest to me, what's remarkable is that you were able to use it."

Sparrow, eyes narrowed: "Is it that hard to open a music box?"

Rose, snapping: "Sparrow!"

"What!?" Then it dawned on him, "Oh, M'lord."

Lucien merely chuckled at the spectacle happening before him, then: "What was your wish?"

Rose's lips curled into a pursed frown, and looked away, she was before the ruler of an entire country: "U-um..."

"Speak up, now," Lucien prompted, "What did you wish for?"

This gave Sparrow the opportunity to elbow back, which gave him a smack behind his head - and again Lucien chuckled.

"Um... T... To live in a castle... like, this one..."

"Perhaps that could be arranged," Sparrow's and Rose's head perked up, "I'm working to rebuild - " He paused, "Well, I'm working on something wonderful. For which, I need individuals with particular talents. Let's find out if you possess them."

Lucien gestured to the stone circle seen before, which, now at this distance, had a sort of 's' etched on its surface, "Would you kindly step on the circle?"

The two shared a concerned look.

Lucien, his palms together, "I promise, it won't hurt you."

Sparrow glanced at Lucien and his sister before staring at the circle a moment before doing as told, Rose following after and a blue light outlined the 's', blue motes of light floated up from the edges.

In them both glancing around at the circle, Rose with a hint of concern: "What's that?"

Sparrow: "Why's it glowing?"

Lucien approached the circle: "Nothing to worry about," And after a moment's time in observing, "It's true... your blood... you are Heroes!"

Rose's head snapped up, wide-eyed: "Heroes!? Like, the ones from the old stories?"

Sparrow, curious, furrowed brows and looking up: "Maybe that's why I was able to stop Rex so quick."

Rose: "Sparrow!" She turned back to Lucien, "I'm sorry, M'lord he - ...M'lord?"

Lucien stared, face blank, a moment before cautiously reaching into the light and yelped as the blue of the light turned red, the light around his wrist sparking before he snatched it back, holding his hand.

And a fearful, "What are you!?" Before his eyes widened and went to his desk, frantically throwing papers in his search for something, tossing books aside, cursing and snatching papers to skim through. All the while - the red light, Lucien's white-to-black change in demeanor - the siblings weren't aware they were inching closer to each other.

All they could hear: "No wait... there's... there was something here... something about..."

Rose found the courage to speak: "M-M'Lord? What's - what's going on. What's that light?"

Sparrow, taking Rose's hand, "Rose... what's happening?"

"Quiet!" The might of Lucien's voice turned the children into statues, and after having found what he needed: "You're heroes but you're not any of the three... one of you is the forth..."

He paused, propping himself up on the desk, staring absently at the book shelf before him, then, "This isn't what I wanted," And he pulled a pistol from his vest.

Instinct guided Sparrow's hand to pull his own gun.

A sound of thunder and Rose screamed, dropping down, covering her ears with her eyes squeezed shut, but the thud and the clattering of something popped them open.

She heard it...

The strained, ragged grunting and panting...

She dared.

She turned.

Her whole being went frigid and her whole cognition was torn from conscience.

A shriek exploded deep from within her, within the recesses of the shell she used to protect herself, her body trembling, so striking for Lucien to freeze. Its power not faltering even when bouncing off the walls, here and there, extending its life to seeming eternity.

"...R-Roozz.." Sparrow reached desperately with a bloodied palm, lifting his head to look before letting it drop and clutched at his stomach, seizing up "...Helb... Halb..."

His face scrunched with pain, red teeth grit, tears streaking down his face, legs shifting, a red pool growing beneath and a red spot quickly spreading across his stomach.

"Ruh... Ruh - ruh Rooozzzmmm - mmmm..." Blood was now dribbling from his mouth, his fearful eyes settled on his blank but wide-eyed sister watching this unfold, his swiped weakly, "Rho-hosesssss..." He gasped and sobs racked his body.

In that faint awareness, Rose uprooted herself, stiffly and rigidly to her brother's side like an automaton and dropped herself on her knees. There, Sparrow snatched her hand and squeezed it tight, the convulsive trembling of it bringing Rose back to life.

Rose: "I... I, don't..." Tears brimmed her eyes, "Dont... Don't go," She planted her hand atop Sparrow's bloodied hands and carefully applied pressure by absent instinct, jerking back by him sharply yelping, "I don't...!" Emotion shook her body, "Don't go...! Please! Please, don't go!"

His objective reached Lucien through a fog, he aimed his gun only for him to remember he needed to reload, he shoved his hands into his vest, fumbling for a bullet, which he dropped when pulling it out where it then rolled on the floor.

As Lucien gave chase, stepping and bending down and waving after it, hot tears rolled down Rose's face: "I don' - I don' - I don't, " She watched Sparrow grow paler and paler, "Don't go... please... don't go, don't leave me..." She could only apply pressure, painting her hands red.

"A'm scarb..." Sparrow's eyes were drooping, voice weakening, he coughed and blood sputtered out, "Ar'b, a'm scard... A'mmm-mmm s-scared... A'mb scared..."

Rose squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head, only muttering: "Don't go... Don't go... Don't go, don't go, don't go, don't go, don't go..."

The smell of blood filled her nostrils. She never saw how her parents died, but she always imagined, aided by nightmares that were branding. She remembered hiding away from Sparrow at times during their first days as orphans.

This...

This...

Rose: "...Sparrow...?"

The trembling of Sparrow's hand abruptly stopped and it slackened in her hand, head to the side, blood down from his lips, eyes still drooped with the last tears it will shed - those distant, dull eyes.

Rose: "Sparrow?"

Nothing.

"Sparrow?" She reached and shook his shoulder.

Nothing still.

She took his paled face in her wet and slick hands, smearing blood as she tried to shake life back into him: "Hey... Please... Don't leave me alone... Don't leave me alone... I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? Please, please, please, come back..."

Nothing.

Only the dull stare of those vacant, accusing eyes.

The clicking of a bullet sliding into a barrel brought Rose back to the reality of the situation.

Lucien, pointing cold death her way, hardened resolve in his eyes.

Rose found herself backing away, her bloodied hands up, face broken between panic and broken-sadness, cowering under the power of a god. She jumped finding she was against the glass stained window. She shrunk, shut her eyes, hands up in vainful defense, whimpering.

Lucien: "Nothing, must stand in my way..." He paused a moment, lips tightening to pursed lips, then, "I'm sorry."

He pulled the trigger.

Frigid coldness shot through her abdomen, heralding the burning, wet pain that surged through her body. She had folded, holding her stomach. She didn't know the bullet had broken the window until she tripped on her footing in her trying to balance from her recoiling and stumbled over the window.

Tumbling, everything was a dark blue, wind roaring in her ears, cold whipping at her body. There was a ringing in her ears and the world began to spin when she slammed, rolled off a roof and crumpled onto the cold street in a sprawled heap.

Only the moon, high and bright in the sky, saw what had happened, the whole town asleep, was the only one seeing the broken girl barely alive in the cold and the new flurries of snow. Her hollow, hoarse breathing the only sound in the shadowed streets of Bowerstone.

There, on the ground: "...bad...dream..." Rose managed to worm out, barely a mumble, "...bad dream..."

If this was a dream, the warm breath followed by the wet tongue licking her fingers was the teller that this whole thing - all the things that had happened was just a nightmare she was having, and she would wake up in the shack with Sparrow beside her in her bed roll.

A figure then shadowed the moon's light over her, and a familiar voice seemed to echo in her ears:

"Destiny is a winding road of thorns, young Rose."

All went black.

---

"Raaa-oose!"

It came to her hazy, blurry, a boy alone wandering in a pure white plain of nowhere - nothing, no grass, dirt, trees, the blue sky, clouds, not even animals or the wind.

Screaming with a broken voice that rippled with deep emotion, trembling with waterfalls of tears:

"Raaa-oose!" The boy cried, screeching now, "RAA-OOSE! Where, are, yaaa-oou!".

A wave of emotion rocked him, his face scrunched.

He gasped at repeated intervals.

His hands went to his eyes.

And his lips receded revealing clenched grit teeth, a moan struggling through before his mouth went agape and sobs wormed out, gradual then bursting from the flood gates.

"...Rose... Where - where are you...? Where did'jyou go-ho...?"

Alone. Crying. The boy cried out to nothing, his echo being the only listener.

The blur intensified, blots of darkness appeared and spread, engulfing everything back to black.

And all was silence again.

---

Something that was cooking for a while; chapters will be intermittent, no sort of schedule; and have been wondering of any sort of response or feedback, anything that catches you.