Normally, she could admire the calm with which Moonjumper seemed to regard every situation; however, after coming back to the palace—victorious, but frazzled and disheveled, tired and sweaty, her hair a tangled mess—she expected a bit more of a reaction from him. Instead, he stared at her as she entered the castle's main hall with the usual, mild tilt of his head. "What happened to you?"
She looked like a wreck: She felt like a wreck. All Hat Kid wanted to do right then was crash in her bed; take a good, long tap; and forget about the monster she just faced. So, when asked that by the prince, her still racketed mind could only form a question of its own reply, "Did you know there's a giant skeleton in the mines?!"
He kept his head tilted in a moment's confusion, then raised it in an alert motion, "Ah! The O-dokoro. I'd nearly forgotten: The goblins awoke it some decades back. I thought we had put it to rest. I certainly never would've imagined you'd go so far in and stumble across it."
That made two of them... "What are we gonna do about it?" She couldn't hide the stress in her voice. She might have gotten lucky and escaped it, but that didn't mean it wouldn't make a second attempt at climbing the chasm's walls later. The thought of the thing crawling out and wreaking havoc on the denizens of the Horizon worried her—and it would be all her fault.
However, if Moonjumper was concerned, he didn't show it. He hovered over to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. As if he could read her mind, he explained, "It would have some difficulty leaving its pit. It's damaged, and even if it made it to level ground wouldn't be able to wriggle its way through the tunnels. By then, the goblins would inform me of its escape and I could face it well before it reaches town. We're safe."
Hat Kid just blinked up at him. Seeing that thing in-person, knowing how nigh-indestructible it was from Snatcher's descriptions… It was amazing how he could manage a cool head even then. He already had a plan in mind, filed away for the unlikely chance he'd need it.
It was no wonder the Dweller's mistook him for their prince. Moonjumper was like an ideal version of him: Kind, collected, ever braced for whatever storm could come their way. A part of her felt uneasy over the unintended lie, but since Snatcher hid his true identity from them, maybe this 'prince' kept their hopes up. The only other leaders they had to turn to was the corrupted queen and equal monster they thought Snatcher was.
The ghost released her, then backed up a step, "You'll want to regain your strength. I can send something to your room. What would you like?"
"Do you have hot chocolate?" she asked. The tension gone, she felt even more exhausted than before. Her limbs ached and she was drained from the terror that had gripped her during the entire experience.
"I can check," he gave her a single nod, then instructed, "Get some rest. And please, if you can help it, don't go somewhere so risky by yourself again." With that, he turned away and vanished deeper within the castle.
The child rubbed the back of her neck sorely and went the opposite way toward her room. It was still jarring how empty and deathly quiet the palace was, but she was getting better at finding her way around.
So, she had six Time Pieces now… Surely there couldn't be too many more in the Horizon. Not counting the pair she'd found hiding on her own ship and the extra she'd collected after fighting Mustache Girl, there had been anywhere from eight to ten of them in each of the locations she'd already searched. The Horizon was huge, but she hoped it kept up that average.
Still, with only a few to go, Hat Kid also couldn't help wondering about the odds of finding them in this place. Would they all really be close-by, or would she have to explore somewhere far beyond the shelter of Moonjumper's ghost town? It wasn't ideal… Beyond the fact that it would be like hunting for a needle in a haystack, there was also the issue of food. She could only pack so much and the Horizon's ether was a constant threat to worry about. If she ran out while she was out there, too far to return to the village and unable to reach the mortal world either, well… She hoped Moonjumper would be willing to take her in as a permanent resident.
Her hunt was going stale, which brought back into her mind the trio of snow women she'd run into days before. If they weren't just toying with her, then they had a Time Piece hidden within their own territory. To get their help though, they'd told her to steal something of Moonjumper's—and the very idea of that made her feel guilty.
What was she supposed to do? Hat Kid hadn't told the prince she'd run into them: She couldn't tell him that she'd run into them, especially now. He'd kept calm when she'd told him about the skeleton, but he wouldn't have warned her not to take any more risks like that if he hadn't been at least a little upset with her. And the snow women said that Moonjumper hated them. With all of the previous warnings she'd had, both from him and a couple of the villagers, meeting them might be the one thing to finally push him over the edge and break that collected nature of his.
If there was any chance of finding just one more Time Piece though… Maybe she'd have to make that gamble. Hat Kid bit her lower lip. She was close to her room now, but if she remembered correctly, Moonjumper's study wasn't too far off. Maybe she could find something small, something so worthless that he wouldn't even miss it.
If there's anything like that to take… she looked doubtfully, noting the emptiness the surrounded her once again. A part of her mind was screaming in rejection, ordering her to take the nap she'd promised and abandon the plan. But her feet were already moving past the door to her room, further down the hall, and up a flight of stairs. If she was going to go through with this, she had to be quick about it. Moonjumper was likely in the kitchen by now and he'd send the cups and plates to her room on their own, like usual, but who knew if he'd stumble on her before she could make her way back. She couldn't let him know what she was up to.
Navigating through the silent halls by memory, it still took her around ten minutes to find the right chamber. Like everywhere else in the castle, the study seemed untouched. Even though Moonjumper clearly used it often, it was spotless. The desk was cleared, all of the books were lined nearly in exact rows on their shelves, and the flowers on the tabletop stayed in perfect bloom.
Hat Kid actually thought of just taking one of the books, since there were so many, but just as quickly rejected the idea. He'd notice if one was gone, the way he lined them up and seemed to value knowledge. She moved over to the desk, examining its drawers. Papers, quills, ink, nothing of importance. The snow women had said anything would do, but the child doubted that they had office supplies in mind. Most of the papers were blank, and the ones that weren't were mundane notes: Lists of what gifts some of the spirits had given him and how they were then sent to some use in the town, some sort of calendar to keep track of those entering and leaving the Horizon, notes from various research. The only thing that really caught her eye was a list of names and roles assigned to them, which struck her as odd since Moonjumper already seemed to know everyone in the Horizon and there didn't seem to be many permanent residents to begin with.
The young alien put everything carefully back the way she found it, unwilling to risk leaving one sheet out of place. Then she looked up and noticed a door she hadn't before, set in the middle of the opposing wall. It was cast in the shadows, hidden from the light pouring in from the balcony, and there was nothing else near it to catch her eye, so it there was little wonder to how she had missed it the first time. Immediately, she crossed over to it.
Thankfully, the door wasn't locked, and she shut it behind her in a swift, quiet motion. When she glanced around, Hat Kid found herself in a bedroom—shockingly the most furnished room she had seen in the entire castle. It had to be Moonjumper's. Like most other chambers, it too had a balcony: Large, twin windows with sheer curtains stood on either side of it, casting the entire space in an ethereal, blue light. She couldn't help but smile, spotting a telescope at the edge of the wide entryway. Across from her was a wide, two-post, canopy bed with white sheets. The idea of a ghost sleeping seemed a little odd. Apparently, the prince thought the same, because the bed was so well-made it was as if no one had touched it since it had first been set up. A nightstand sat to either side of it, with more of the Horizon's flowers to the right and some sort of glowing, geode paperweight acting as a kind of lamp on the left—possibly a gift from the goblins. There was another shelf full of books to the side of the door facing the balcony: On the other side, there was an empty fireplace with fresh, untouched candles lining the mantle. In front of it was a plush reading chair, and nearest a second door leading back out into the hall was a wood and porcelain wash basin and wardrobe.
It was strange. The room was clearly made with comfort in mind and was the homiest out of anything else she'd seen, and yet it still felt so impersonal. Everything was too neat, too perfectly in place. It didn't feel like someone's room: It felt like a staged set.
Hat Kid checked the shelves first. There was nothing of note: Just more books, although more of these interested her at first glance than the heavy texts in the study did. The nightstands were pitifully empty. That just left the wardrobe. She frowned even as she stepped in front of it. She doubted he had many clothes and he really would notice if she took something like that. Nevertheless, with her search empty thus far, she had no choice but to look.
As she opened the door, the child was taken aback. There were only two sets of clothes inside. One, suspended on the actual rack, was a long cloak a much darker shade of red than what he usually wore. The other, hanging from the door itself, was an outfit she'd actually seen once before. The sleeves, hem, and pant legs were tattered and worn. It was badly stained from water damage and other fluids. Nevertheless, it was still recognizable.
It was the Subcon prince's clothes, the same thing he wore the day he returned to Subcon and Vanessa locked him in her basement.
Hat Kid stared at it with furrowed brows before the obvious question came to her, Why does Moonjumper have this? He wasn't Subcon's prince: Snatcher was! She'd seen it herself! But it that was the case… then why did he have the prince's clothes?! How did he get them?! Did he somehow steal them off the prince's body?! N-no, surely not, but then…
She shook her head. None of this made any sense. Who exactly was Moonjumper?! Were he and Snatcher somehow connected? If so, how? Why? She didn't think Snatcher would've known anything about him, or else he wouldn't have exactly been thrilled with him guarding so many Dwellers here in the Horizon. What was going on?
Her mind scrambled to piece together the opposing facts that stood before her without success. The longer she stared at the clothes, however, something else finally caught her eye. Taking an easy step forward, Hat Kid noticed a rimless monocle hanging on a thin chain clipped on front of the coat. If it weren't for how it glinted in the Horizon's odd, starry light, she wouldn't have spotted it. It was badly broken—practically shattered in half—but it was exactly what she needed: An unremarkable piece that Moonjumper wouldn't likely notice was missing.
It would have to do. She took it, both glass and chain, and hid it one of her backpack's side pockets. Then she closed the wardrobe and snuck out the bedroom door as quickly as possible, her feet carrying her with a fast tread all the way back to her room without so much as a glance around her to check if she had been spotted. Her frenzied thoughts simply made it impossible to maintain any sense of stealth.
It didn't matter: She made it to her room without a problem, shrugged off her pack, and carried it with her into bed like a guarded treasure. She tucked both it and herself under the sheets, burying herself completely beneath them with only a small hole near her nose to let air in and the pillows framed around her like sandbags lining a trench, as if they would shield her from some unseen threat. All the while, the same questions wouldn't stop racing through her head.
Hat Kid didn't know how long she laid there. It was several minutes before she came to her senses enough to dig a light snack out of her bag and nibble on it in secret. A little while later, she heard her bedroom door open and shut as a living cup and platter flew in to settle down on the table for her convenience, just as usual. She didn't get up though: Not for a long while—well after her drink had grown cold. Guilt and uncertainty filled her mind, and it took the weight of her tired muscles to finally pull her into a restless slumber.