The last time she'd noticed something strange about her child, it had been quiet.

With the birds in their coops and the farmers retired to their rooms, there was nothing but a snoring Captain making a single peep in the night.

But not everyone was sleeping.

Even as the night went on, there were still two awake.

The first could be told through a dull, flickering light beneath a doorway, with the one who lit it huddled close by as they poured over their new book. A small thing with a worn down cover.

They'd gotten it from one of the other village kids, who'd thrown it in the mud declaring it too easy and too boring to be of any use to them. But they...didn't quite agree with that statement. That it was easy, that is. They couldn't really tell if it was boring or not yet.

As for the second one, they'd just spotted that light.

She wasn't entirely sure why she'd awoken that night, but as it was she just couldn't get back to sleep. All sorts of things were flitting through her mind, from whether making soup the prior day was a good idea to the upcoming market next town over to that one embarrassing event that happened several years ago.

Sleep wasn't just being a tad elusive, it seemed to be actively avoiding her.

So, in the end, she'd gotten up to go have a drink and stretch her legs, electing to not spend her time lying still and getting increasingly restless as time ticked on by.

That said she wasn't quite expecting her nigh-time drink to be illuminated. She'd only just stepped out into the main hallway, not even haven gotten to where the drinks were stored yet and already she had a feeling that she was going to have to get her mom mode on at this horrific hour.

"What're you still doing up?" She pushed the door open.

A pause.

"…Reading."

"And what should you be doing?"

"…Just one more page."

But she wasn't falling for it this time. She and her husband had already had a conversation about how she was being too soft on the child, and neither of them want the kid to grow up spoilt.

So no. If she let them off this time, it would only happen again and that was not a habit she could have them falling into.

And she told them as such.

"But I'm just getting the hang of it! If I just have a bit longer-"

"Am I going to have to repeat myself?" Her voice was starting to have that bite to it, and the child knew that they could only push their luck so much further before they wound up in hot water.

And while, in some cases, it could perhaps be argued that it was worth it do that, they didn't really feel like this was one of those cases.

"I thought you of all people would understand. You can't do it either. " The child murmured, shutting the troublesome book at last before flopping back with a harrumph.

"Sweetie, if you've inherited my reading skills, then I'm sorry to tell you but you're definitely not going to fix it in just one night." She tutted, before striding over to the bed.

"Let's see it." The child hesitantly handed over the book, nervous about what their mother was planning on doing with it and whether or not they were ever going to get it back.

She didn't seem to notice though that they were watching her every move like a hawk as she flicked through it.

Or perhaps she did notice, and was just ignoring them.

A sigh. "Tell you what, how about you got bed right now and we'll help each other in the morning."

"Really?" They certainly perked up at that, flipping back up once again, seemingly not picking up on the "go to bed right now" part of the deal.

"Down."

There was a distinct *whomp* as they went right back down as fast as they'd gotten up in the first place.

"Sorry."

"And yes, as long as, like I said, you go to sleep. I don't want to have to come in again." Tucking the little book under the crook of her arm, she went to pick up the candle that brought her into the room in the first place, preparing to take it out.

Although, actually…

"And where did you get the matches for this?" Not wanting their child to accidentally burn the place down, she and her husband had taken great care to hide them. Them haven apparently found them was as such of great concern and seemed to indicate they might well have to bury them if they didn't want there to be any incidents.

Nothing else would do, it seemed.

They'd been so sure they wouldn't be able to find them before, after all.

"Oh no! I didn't do it with a match! I learned a trick! Watch!" The child could apparently not decide whether they were to stay up or down, bolting up once more to grab the candle.

"Careful you'll-"

And then they blew it out, plunging them into darkness.

But only for a moment.

Then a speck of light came back, growing bigger and brighter until there was a dim enough light to see the cause of it; just the child, rubbing the wick with bare fingers. Nothing else was in sight, nothing at all that could have plausibly have been the real cause of setting the candle alight.

It was at this point that she may perhaps have made a sound, a doubtless undignified sound, had she been able to open her mouth.

Why?

Well perhaps it was because, at this point, their fingers being where they were, the child should no doubt be in a lot of pain. Screaming even, as their skin started to burn.

Or perhaps because it was because of how none of that had happened. Despite the fire, everything was just…

It was quiet.

"The butcher showed me how! If you just rub two things together fast enough, you can set just about anything on fire! Isn't it cool?" And they were beaming too, of all things, clearly hoping for some sort of praise.

But they weren't going to be getting that.

The mother snatched the candle right out of their hands, blowing it out in an instant.

"Don't be doing that! I thought I made it clear I don't want you playing with any candles!" She snapped, as she fought to keep her hands steady.

"But the butcher said-"

"I don't care what the butcher said! I'm your mother and you will do what I say!" Her voice was getting more distant now, and with the patting footsteps the child could only guess from the lack of light that their mother was leaving now, but they just couldn't tell what had made her so upset about the trick.

They'd seen people do it with sticks before.

So what's so wrong with them doing it?

Then the footsteps stopped; "…Goodnight."

And there goes the door.

As the kid was left bewildered on one side, the mother sank down on the other.

There was a thing called "wilful ignorance", an often blissful thing where you could just choose to ignore all that was wrong around you.

But even it only went so far, before you were forced to acknowledge that something wasn't right.

And a small, frustratingly loud part of her was starting to insist that there was something not right about her child.

But it could really just be a trick, couldn't it? Just because she hadn't tried it, didn't mean that it was impossible to do.

So she took the candle, she took it and tried not to wince as she rubbed the still-hot wick between two fingers. Exactly as her little baby had.

But even as time went on…

She was still left in the dark.