Chapter Two

"Hold onto my hand, now." I spoke softly to Emily as she pulled her stockings up. They were new, and she was yet to fit into them quite right. She was small for an eight-year-old. "You wouldn't wanna get lost on th' way to school, would you?"

She leapt up from the bed after I buckled her shoes for her, taking my hand. If I had to be fond of any of my siblings, it was Emily. She was still at the too-young age to see anything wrong with any people in the world, mostly me. And she loved my red curls. She played with it for hours.

"Can't forget my books." I grabbed the leather buckle-strap that held my school books. I was one of the few of the poorer farm families to be going to school over the age of twelve, but Da insisted on our education so we didn't end up farmers, or farmer's wives.

Emily's hand was warm in mine as I walked her out the door. Tim was scuffling around impatiently, looking as if he might have already left if the fog hadn't been too thick to go on his own. Sheelin, possibly the biggest suck-up gimp to our parents, was standing against the rickety porch, trying to keep herself clean and fresh-looking. Em tugged my arm. "We're gonna be late, Maggie!"

"No we aren't. Whist, now, Emily… school isn't that far away." I patted the top of her head.

She needn't have worried, because there were still children playing in the small school-yard, hat flaps flying behind them as they skipped and ran, playing on the near-frozen seesaws. A few idiotic boys around Sheelin's age or a bit older were throwing chunks of ice at each other, laughing. "Run along an' play." I scooted Emily towards a group of eight and nine-year-olds playing jump rope, and Sheelin ran to her friends. Timothy sat against the fence with his bum on his stack of books so he wouldn't get a spot on his pants.

"Go on, get." He sneered at me grimly. He took his seniority by one year much too seriously most of the time. "I don't needa be seen by my witch for a sister."

"What're you talkin' about, I don't see Sara 'round here anywhere." I added wistfully before stalking up to the front of the schoolyard where most of the people my age gossiped. I don't know why I was drawn here. But gossip was one of my least favorite things in the world, probably because none of it was true. They all hated when I tried to butt in, but I couldn't help it. When there was a lie, I had to loudly blurt out the truth. It was just plain uncomfortable to be around a liar, and Sorcha Breev was one of the biggest liars ever.

She was the daughter of one of the rich merchants, so she wore expensive clothes, and was always parading around with needless jewels. Her hair was long, flowing, and black, her eyes like perfect violets. She was the biggest gossiper too, and I despised her voice full of falsehoods.

"Why, hello." One of her friends, Alana smiled slightly at me. I had nothing against Alana; she was actually quite fine, but if Sorcha started her gossip, she'd join right in.

"Where's that farm boy?" Sorcha smirked, her perfect teeth glinting.

"None o' your beeswax." I rolled my eyes, making sure it was quite obvious.

"I heard he was kicked out of the Brennan's shop, eh?" she sniggered, along with a few of the other girls.

"Shut up." I growled under my breath.

"Not even clean enough to work for the Brennans, of all people…"

"Shut your raggin' mouth 'fore I shut it for you, you crag." I hissed, and she made an expression as if I had just ripped the face off of her mother. She was about three inches taller than me, but was dressed so regally, I doubted she would dare fight me. My clothes were old hand-me-downs; half of them too big, the other half too small. My jocks and undergarments were an assortment of miss-matched manor, and my smock was nearly threadbare. My hands balled into fists. "If I were you… I'd shut your mouth before somethin' bad happens."

"You stay away from me, you bogger McAuleey." Sorcha rolled her eyes.

"Stay 'way from her." Tim was suddenly dragging me away like I had no self-control. I just noticed that I was kicking and fighting against him like a wild beast. "Ain't worth it, girl."

"Get off me." I spat in his face but missed. It hit the ground.

The torturous school day seemed extra-long. I worked my way through the arithmetic problems and studied biology like the rest of the children my age. When I looked out the window in the long stretch, Tad was waiting outside against the gate, his breath trailing up out of his nose in two straight puffs of air that became stagnant and fermented as they traveled up out of his nostrils. I grinned out the window, and he smiled widely back. his breath now came out of his mouth like he was smoking a pipe out of his throat. He waved slightly, a lazy flick of his hand. I waved back when I thought the teacher wasn't looking. Mr. Eda was the meanest man I ever knew; a forty-eight year old bachelor who's favorite pastime was torturing children. Especially the other ones he could get a better handle on. He slapped a ruler on my desk, just barely missing my hand.

"Maggie McAuleey," he tsked, shaking his bony finger at me. "How did I know you'd be daydreaming out the window."

"Not, sir… t'was just wavin'."

"To whom?"

"No one, sir."

He smirked and his shoulders slightly went up and down. "Waving to no one?"

I took a glance out the window to see if Tad was out of sight. He was nowhere to be seen. A smirk tugged at the corners of my mouth pulling up only slightly as I saw the rustle of trees and a slight break in the low-hanging fog.

"Jus' the fog, sir."

"Come with me." he growled under his breath. I could smell the stench of chew tobacco, and the rank of his clothes that smelled of desperation and the need to torture his students. My palms started to itch, and as he led me to the front of the room, they were sweaty. I pulled my sleeve over my right hand and rubbed the fabric against it hard to try and scratch the strange, nervous sensation, but I couldn't seem to stop my palms from the strange feeling. He handed me about a half a piece of white chalk, raising his eyebrows that reminded me of mice. He took another full piece and wrote in barely-legible cursive on the board, muttering the words as he wrote. "Maggie McAueleey..." he wrote in his script. "needs to stop… daydreaming… and staring out the window… when she is supposed to be studying." He doted the period extra hard. "Write this one hundred times before you leave today."

The older children sitting near the front snickered, and Emily and Sheelin looked embarrassed as hell. "Sir," I said quite loudly, and he turned around. "This is a lie."

"Excuse me?"

"I do not daydream, sir. This is a lie."

He stepped closer. "Write it, one hundred times."

"I will not write a falsehood." I persisted, gritting my jaw. I could stand him saying it out loud, but writing a lie for the entire schoolhouse of students to see was enough to make my so-called 'lie-detector' uncomfortable.

"Just shut yer gap and do it, Maggie!" Alexander Wright called with his hands cupping his mouth like I couldn't already hear him. I turned to glare at him. "We don't need yer witchcraft!"

The class sniggered and I felt my cheeks burn red.

"Enough. Now you will write this two hundred times. You'd better write small, Miss McAuleey." Mr. Eda seemed quite smug with his jolly-little rat-like self. My ears felt like someone had set fire to them, and my eyes threatened to brim over with steaming teas. My lip quivered. I hated being made a fool, especially in front of the entire class. I lifted my shaking left hand and wrote quickly and messily, but small: Maggie McAuleey needs to stop daydreaming and staring out the window when she is supposed to be studying, dotting the period with much more grace than the tyrant of a teacher. I wrote this over and over until my fingers were numb and my wrist stung each time I pressed down the chalk that I had managed to shave down to half of its length. My fingers were covered in a white film by the time I was done, and my whole arm tingled with pain. The entire board was covered in my crooked writing, and the soul being left in the room was Mr. Eda.

I slowly set the piece of chalk on the wooden board meant for holding erasers and such, dusting off my hands and nursing my sore arm. I'd written the sentence exactly two hundred times, and he seemed satisfied with himself. He wore an even more smug grin as I crossed across the creaky boards to him. "I'm finished, sir."

"You suppose?" he seemed to ponder. I clenched my good, right fist. I was the only left-handed one in the family.

"Yessir. Two hundred times exactly."

He handed me an eraser and my heart sunk. "Erase the board and beat the erasers."

"But sir, I –" I bit my lower lip so hard I could feel my teeth leaving an indentation. "Yes sir."

He nodded and crossed to the window, staring out it like a fool. If I had no sense, I would have ran up to him and beat the dusty erasers on either side of his head like a pair of cymbals, but I held my arms out in front of me like a soldier, beating them until there was barely a speck of dust in the air. I did this with four sets of erasers I was sure he never even used. My hair was frosted in a layer of white and gray dust by the time I finished, and both of my arms felt like I'd carried around twenty pound weights the entire day.

"I'm finished, Mr. Eda." I said in a near exhausted whisper.

He looked up from his book, letting his feet down from his desk. The sour bachelor looked over his glasses at me, my shaking, starving frame that quivered with hurt and that voice in the back of my mind that called him a liar. I bit my lip again, trying not to blurt out "even though it was a lie".

"You may leave." He dismissed me, and I basically dragged myself out the door. It was foggy again, bucketin' rain, and to top it all off, dusk was beginning to dim the horizon like a flickering candle. I'd been standing so long, my ankles ached in my short boots, and the slaggy mud made it harder to walk.

"Oh, you lass." I was startled when Tad emerged from the brush, a few scratches and mud-licks on his cheeks. I screeched slightly then calmed as I saw his soft angular features.

"It's just you." I sighed, stopping to let the rain fall on me. My breath came in short, much-too-exhausted puffs as my skin quivered, struggling to keep me warm. I left my blue shawl at home again, and my almost threadbare clothing gave little protection to the cold. He draped his old coat around me gently, taking my arm and wrapping it around his shoulders. "Don't, you'll be cold." I hesitated, but his body was so warm against me, it was like being next to a furnace.

"Nonsense, girl. What kinda yoke are ya playin' at?" he crooned softly, steering me on the path towards my home. I sighed and closed my eyes, letting him lead me.

"Why'd ya wait for me, Tad… ya could be home by now."

"What's at home?" he shrugged. "I stopped home earlier. I promised you I'd wait for ya af'er school," he scratched his wet hair that was tied back with a piece of twine. "Don'tcha remember?"

Tad had never lied to me once. I hugged myself closer to my closest mate. "You bogger, you didn't have to."

He shrugged. "Eda gotcha again…"

I nodded and there was silence besides the wind and the rain pattering against our backs, bouncing to the ground like forgotten springs and coils.

"Sentences." I finally croaked, realizing how hard I was crying. I sniffed like a baby, feeling bile in the back of my throat. That was the thing – I always made myself upset to the point that I was sick. "He made me write two hundred times… It was a lie, Tad, it was a lie, and he made me write it two hundred times."

We stopped walking, and he held his strong, but noodle-like arms around me. If anyone knew how uncomfortable lies were for me, it was Tad. When someone lied, I had to point it out loudly, obnoxious, rude, impolite, or out-of-circumstance as if might be. But eventually when others found out that I spoke the truth before anyone else even knew, they called my "powers", if even considered that, evil, just for telling them the truth.

"Chin up, Gra." He cooed softly, in a tone of voice I'd never heard him use before. I sobbed as he tried to push up my chin with his long index finger, but it was no use. I let my chin rest in between my collarbone in defeat. I barely ever cried, especially not in front of the strongest person I'd ever known. "Shhh, shhh… let's get you out of this rain, you're bound to catch cold out 'ere." He wrapped his arm around me and led me through the woodsy trail like I was blind, tightly holding onto my hand. The warmth and pressure of his slick palm in mine was so reassuring, but something I had never felt before stirred in my chest. my heart screamed yes, this feels so right, but my mind screamed just as loudly no, this is entirely wrong. I let neither of them rule now, living neutral, letting him lead me to a small cover of pine trees with wide palm-like branches that caught the rain like an umbrella.

"There, here, lean against me." he opened his arms after sitting with his knees up in front of him. I cautiously curled up against him, still sniffling loudly enough for him to tell. I closed my eyes, feeling his soft calloused hair stroke over my wet hair line at each breath I took. "Take it easy, Gra… some days are rough, eh?"

That reminded me. "Did you find a job outa town, Tad?"

He took a breath then sighed. "Yeah."

"What?"

Silence.

"What?" I demanded again.

"There's an old man… he ain't getting' any younger, and he needed a lil' bit o' help with his blacksmith shop –"

"Blacksmith!" I cut him off suddenly. "No!"

"Ya didn't let me finish, ya gowl!" was his sudden outburst. My lip quivered. "Oh, Maggie, I'm sorry… I didn't mean tha'… please."

"Finish tellin' me." I pouted.

"Anyways, he needed help… he said I was young, an' I could learn by bein' his apprentice. He'd pay me overtime, he said I was a trustworthy lookin' boy. So I'll have money for me family, ain't that somethin', Mag?"

"How far away?" I questioned quietly.

"'Bout ten miles… he said I c'n stay with 'im… like a boarder…"

"Oh." I whispered.

"I'll miss you."

It was a silent stab to the heart. I wouldn't be going with him. I would have to stay here in Inistioge. I wasn't able to go with him. I closed my eyes again and leaned against him, inhaling his musky scent of woods and soap. I didn't know when I fell asleep against him, but I did.

I woke to a slight sway of his steps, my head flopping against his chest as he took step after step. I opened my eyes to his face slightly smirking down upon me like I was the most interesting thing in the world; I smiled back. "You cat, you didn't hafta carry me."

"You was sleepin', wouldn't be proper o' me to wake ya." He smiled again and held me tighter to him.

"Lemme down." I croaked, realizing how badly my throat hurt. I probably caught somethin' in the rain, or simply scratchy from all the cryin' I did. I musta cried myself to sleep for at least an hour.

"As ya wish, Gra." He set me straight on my feet, catching me as I wobbled. I could see the smokestack in the distance and the light in the windows of my rickety home.

"Ya carried me all the way here?"

"Course." My rubbed my head gently with his fingers, putting his arm around me. He walked me the rest of the way to the house. Da was waiting by the door with a dry blanket.

"Maggie." Da took me under his large, tan arm, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders. I buried my face in his smoky-smelling coat. He looked up at Tad. "Thank you, son."

Tad nodded and turned to leave. My father stopped him. "Thaddeus…" Tad seemed startled at his full name. "You needn't walk all th' way back 'ome tonight…"

"I'll be forever grateful of your hospitality, but m' fam'ly's waitin' for me." he bowed, something he only did in the presence of men such as my father. Da nodded once and tightened his arm around me as the heavy wooden and brass door swung shut.

"Come now, Maggie… you hungry?" the pressure of Da's hand on my head was enough for comfort as he guided me to the kitchen where there was a plate of food set for me.

"A little." I admitted, my stomach growling like an angry beaver. He sat me down in a creaky wooden chair, shoving more wood in the stove, assuring the blanket stayed around my shoulders.

"Fithial…" my mother was suddenly in the kitchen, a stern look on her face.

"Leave her be, Liffe… child's hungry." He soothed, pressing his hand into her shoulder. I could tell she wanted to glare at me, but she wouldn't under the watchful gaze of my father. He might be the last person in Ireland who had a soft-spot for her, if he has any affection for her at all anymore. But my Da loved me. Maybe best of all. One thing that I still had.

"I'll bet she is, she's been returned home three hours late! It's seven o'clock!"

"Let 'er eat in peace." When I looked up at my father, I caught him wink at me, and I smirked out of the corner of my mouth as I chewed.

"You better enjoy that, Maggie," my mother scoffed, pulling away from my father. He shrugged. "There won't be any more potatoes for a while."

"What?" I made the mistake of speaking with my mouth open, but I put my hand over my lips. "What do yo mean?"

"Goodness, child… I figured everybody knew… probably because you live in that own little fantasy world of yours… shipment's runnin' low on potatoes… the crop's not been good this year. They said it's basically failed." She looked at the wood stove like it was the most interesting thing she'd ever seen. "They say by the end of winter, there will be barely any food."

I stared at her. Da shook his head, making a 'pfft' noise. "Tabloid nonsense, Liffe… that's just a load of bullshite… we'll be fine. Those are just estimates! Silly, catty estimates!"

Ma shook her head. "I'm just sayin'… we'd better ration."

Whoever said the potato crop was horrible was right. Winter was hard this year. I did not start to notice the decline of the food supply; not until I had nothing to take for lunch. I thought, at first, that we were just getting poorer. People like Tad never had any lunch to take in the first place. I didn't have a problem with being poorer. But then, by the end of the first month of winter, people of higher castes weren't bringin' a crumb to school for lunch. I started to worry by about the time of my fifteenth birthday.

I hadn't seen Tad for weeks when he showed up at my door one morning. Ever was runnin' around like a chicken with his head cut off – Saturdays were always full of turmoil and craziness, and I could hear Emily banging on the wall in the other room, for whatever reason. "SHUT YOUR GOBS, ALL OF YOU!" yelled Tim, who was trying to read as always, but I slammed the door and threw myself on Tad.

"Thaddeus Magnus Pritchett! You crazy savage, you!" I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around his neck and legs around his waist like an opossum. A rather sluggish one, but all the same. He wrapped his arms around me as well, chuckling.

"Well, I see someone's missed me, eh?" he set me down on the porch. "Happy birthday, feek."

"OH! I didn't expect you!" I exclaimed. "How long can you stay!"

"One night." He smiled, putting a finger to my lips. "I missed you, Magg… how 'bout we go to a party ta'night?"

"A party?" I cocked my head. Being Irish, there were lots of festivals and parties this time of year for Christmas. But I hadn't heard of one, nor had I been invited to even the lowest of them this year. Food was short, just as had been predicted.

"Yeah, Dag my employer's been invited to a party, an' he said I could take ya if ya wan', cause I says, it's your birthday! And you deserve a party!" he grinned ear to ear, and I grabbed his face in my hands.

"Tell me you aren't foolin'!"

"The nails, your nails!" he exclaimed, digging my fingers out of his slightly scruffy cheeks. "Quare, woman, a gal turns fifteen and she grows a damn pair of talons!"

"I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, kissing his cheek. His jaw seemed more angular now, and stronger. His body was broader-looking, out of place with his face. His eyes seemed a little more hardened. I had forgotten over the past couple of months that he'd turned seventeen.

"S'alright, I'm fine-like. So, what do ya say?"

I could hardly stand it, I wanted to go so badly. "I gotta ask my Da!"

"Well, hurry, if ya wanna get there by sundown!" he grinned.

Da approved full-heartedly. He kissed me atop the head and told me to be back by mornin'. He knew I was a young woman now, better than anyone else, an' he trusted me in Tad's care. He basically raised him up as his own son. He shooed me off, promising to keep Ma occupied, and I jumped on him and kissed his broad, scruffy face.

"Go on, now, happy birthday." He smiled and booted me out the door. Tad grabbed y hand and led me to a valiant steed, an appaloosa with gray spots.

"A horse?" I questioned. Tad only ever walked places. I also noticed he was wearing a sturdy-looking pair of boots instead of his usual bare feet.

"It's Dag's, my employer. He's old, ain't got a use for swift horses." He climbed into the saddle and offered me a hand up. I noticed that it seemed bigger, and wasn't as soft as it was months ago. He gave me a slight smile and pulled me up in back of him on the seat of the saddle. The warm creature moved underneath me at the weight then whinnied slightly. "Name's Hayze."

"Like the fog?"

"Yep." He grinned and kicked Hayze in the sides. "'Up, boy!" he reared back slightly and bolted.

I could hear the music of the party and see the lanterns flickering before we arrived just at sunset. The sounds of laughter and singing, pipes and flutes playing, were music to my ears, and Tad slipped down from Hayze, leading him over to a stout tree to tie him. He took my hand and helped me down.

"Ready?" he smiled, linking our arms.

"I won't know anyone."

"You know me."

I hesitated.

"Come on, Gra! It'll be fun!" he tried convincing me.

"Tad?"

"Yeah?"

"Am I yer date?"

He stopped walking, his breath streaming out from his nose in two solid pokes of white air. "I… supposed ya are, lass."

I smiled and skipped next to him. "Alright." I was strangely fine with that. I actually was honored to be Tad Pritchett's date. I interlaced our fingers like a tangled ball of twine and smiled.

The party was bustling with joy and love, men clinking together large foaming glasses of whiskey and ale, they laughed and punched each other, some of them I could tell were incredibly plastered, so drunk they probably couldn't tell me if a mouse were a dog or a cat if I asked 'em. But they seemed happy enough, and some of their alcohol sloshed onto my blue short-cloak as Tad pulled me through the dancing crowd. I giggled when he pulled our linked hands into an arch above a couple that was stalling so hard, their lips seemed to be connected with candle wax that was saliva. The male's hands slipped down the woman's waist, squeezing behind her as her fingers gripped the back of his neck, tightening and loosening in his bright red hair. They were so obviously in deep love that I had to smile.

"C'me on!" Tad laughed, tugging me. I lurched forward, nearly tripping on a man that was laughing so hard on the ground that he appeared to be dying. I giggled loudly, though no one probably heard me over the music. A group of dancers were doing a jig, on the table of all places!, and one of the tall en dancing like a leprechaun himself winked at me. I blushed, my face turning red, I'm sure, and Tad grabbed my waist and spun me around. I laughed as he spun me into him, twirling my hand up in his until I twirled into his chest like a pirouette.

"Taddie!" a high voice called, and Tad became alert to a young boy pushing his sharp elbows into the crowd. He had a large mop of black hair that looked like a dust-rag, and his shirt was either covered in sweat of whiskey. He couldn't be more than twelve or thirteen years of age. "Taddie, boy! It's good to see you!"

Tad wrapped his arm around my waist, and I let my hand rest against his heaving chest. dancing was hard work. And this was my birthday date. "Will! S' been too long, m'boy!" he smiled, grabbing him and giving his ratty hair what he called a noogie. He turned to me. "Maggie, this is Dag's younger apprentice, Will."

I curtsied because it seemed appropriate. "Dia Duit, Will. I'm Maggie."

"Well, if yer Miss Maggie, happy birthday." He grinned, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth and a pink tongue.

"Thank you." I grinned back as his hat fell when he bowed. He quickly grabbed it off the ground with much embarrassment. He brushed it off an tossed it back on his head rather crookedly.

"Congratulations on makin' it so far." He kissed my pale hand, and I noticed my fingers were slightly shaking like I had tremors. "When Tad a'talked about ye, I didn't eve' think ya'd be this beautiful."

I blushed. "Thanks."

"Wanna meet me employer?" Tad smiled. But a different kind o' smile. A sort of tender smile, not the friendly smile he gave anyone who was nice to him. This one was a little different.

"Of course. Gotta see who's keepin' you from me." I smirked, and he rubbed the back of my hand with his now-bigger hand.

"It's all worth it…" he promised me as we came before a relatively old-looking man. He was hardened-looking, but had a dark beard to soften his mouth, and it looked like salt and pepper because of the gray specks running through it. His nose was big, but not too big for his face, and his skin was hardened as if an old piece of leather. His hands shook like fissures in the very earth, or the aftershock of an earthquake, and his smile even shook as he grinned at Tad.

"Thaddeus, me boy. Nice night, eh?"

"Isn't is just?" he smiled. "Mr. Dag, I'd like to introduce ya to Maggie. Maggie, this is Mr. Dag." I'd never heard him speak in such a polite manner. He was always dropping gs and talking in a grumble barely even I could understand.

"Why, 'ello Miss Maggie. It is nice ta finally meet ya." He took my hand and I could tell he shook it much more vigorously than he intended to because of his hand tremors.

"It's nice to meet you." I smiled out of the corner of my mouth as I often did. "This is a wonderful party, sir."

He waved his hand and chuckled. "Idn't my party, honey. You're just me guests. Not really no one's party, it's everyone's party." I already liked his employer, Dag. "So why don'tcha have fun?"

I smiled. "I will sir."

"Happy birthday!" he called, sipping his foamy cup of ale.

"C'mon!" Tad laughed, pulling me into the crowd of jiggin' dancers, kissing couples, and drunk geezers. I gasped with surprise as a man with a tray f iced mugs shoved a shimmering cup of whiskey in my face, foam dripping over my hand as I took it with doubt.

"Tad…" I trailed.

"Drink it." He grinned, taking a swig of his own. "Won't hurtcha."

I took a cautious sip – it tasted foul and dry in the back of my throat, and I coughed as it slid down like a liquid mudslide. I wanted to spit it out, but also wanted to impress Tad; he drank it so easily, like a baby to a bottle.

"How's it taste?" he smirked, obviously amused by my expression.

"Like… I just drank a load o' shit." I said honestly, and he laughed through his nose like a horse.

"Drink it more… it gets better."

So I listened to him. I drank the entire glass, chugging it by the time I was at the bottom and it was just foam. I licked the lather off my lips and smiled. I had a warm feeling in my stomach and my throat vibrated like an electric furnace. "I want more." I giggled, and he soon handed me another glass.

"To your fifteenth birthday!" he grinned, and we cheered and toasted to another winter, chugging half our glasses.

"To fifteen years!" I laughed, drinking glass after glass. It started to taste better and better each sip I took, until it tasted like I was drinking pure liquidized sugar that had been caramelized at the bottom. Tad pulled me to the crowd of happy dancers, though I was starting to feel slightly dizzy, and like I could barely get my words out. My speech blurred together, and each time I tried to speak to Tad, his shaking finger came to my lips, chuckling.

"Magic juice." He laughed in a strange voice as he twirled me around to the music that was suddenly like a drone in between my ears. My head ached like no other, but I couldn't even help laughing. Tad pulled me close to his body as my vision seemed to blur the people around me together.

"I really missed you." I said, trying to lift my hand up to touch his face. He smelled strongly of ale, and his usual scent, mixed with the sweet sweat smell.

"I missed ya too." He pressed his nose into my hair gently, rocking me to the slow fiddle and flute song. "Maggie?"

I looked up, and his lips crushed mine. Surprised at first, my eyes were wide open as I stared at his face, studying his eyebrows. The only thing I could see from this vantage point. I then closed my eyes and leaned into the kiss deeply, meeting with him with a soft touch of the kiss. His lips were warm, and tasted sweet like the alcohol, and I suddenly wanted more of him. My lips grabbed onto his lower lip that tasted like caramel, and he seemed to lead on as well, kissing me harder. I grasped onto the divot between his upper lip and nose that never looked so perfect before in my life; he was absolutely smashing. His hands slid down my waist, down to my bottom – we became that couple that was snogging when we first arrived.

"Come on," Tad kissed me sloppily on the side of the head, pulling me away from the party – the dancers, drinkers, kissers. He pulled me along for what seemed like years, especially since everything looked almost double, and I was suddenly inside a freeing barn. I looked around slowly, trying to take in the smallest of things; it seemed like my mind couldn't even take in something like this. This must be where Tad lived – a small hay bed was set in the corner, and covered in a plaid cover, a few thin pillows and boards covered in hay. He pulled me to the make-shift bed, his and on the small of my back.

"Don't be afraid." Tad shushed me, pressing his hands into my hips. He pulled me on top of him so my legs straddled his waist as he lay in the "loft", and I felt his hand travel under the smock of my dress. It was warm where the palm was the middle, though the tips were cold and I shivered. But I didn't stop him. He pulled his shirt over his head.

Giggling, my head made a soft thump as he was suddenly over me, his hand cupping the back of my head. He leaned down and kissed me as my nails scraped slightly down his back , attempting not to break the skin. My mouth hung open as he kissed down my collarbone, unbuttoning the loose smock from my neck down to my bellybutton. I realized my hand was laced in the back of his hair like my life depended on holding onto him, and I sighed with relief when his lips met mine again. Toad groaned slightly when I started to slip my dress off of my legs when we stood.

"It's okay." I whispered between kisses, then was pressed against the wall. A chill ran through my spine as I realized I had been dressed down to my underwear. I could feel the weight and slight restraint of his body on mine, his muscles struggling not to give into everything, and his lips showed all the pressure of what he wanted. And I wanted it too. My movements became more hurried, rushed, less fluent as he held me against the wall, kissing my neck for the longest time. I gasped as his fingers slipped under my bra strap.

I gave into him, and he gave into me. The party continued outside, close enough for me to hear the laughter and music.