On a street, the three figures walked. Each one shivered, but such a thing did not stop them. Their faces were dismal, and they spoke few words to one another. If any had lived normal lives before, they would hardly be recognisable to an onlooker. The truth was that they had been so thin before that the couple of days without much food had hardly made a difference. They looked as if they should collapse from either the cold or the hunger, but they walked on. It was their way of living. This rough, harsh style, which many a person would think impossible. There was one difference, however. It was in their eyes. A new light had dawned, and it was not a positive one. It was a torch of confusion. What lay ahead? They did not know. It was not as if 'there was no turning back', they simply continued onwards because the alternative, to stay,would hardly be better.

Their walk seemed endless. A city, when looked upon by eyes scanning a map, can seem not so difficult to cross. But when it is walked upon by youths, with bare feet over snow, the journey can be made ten times more tedious. The few stops for rest they had made were brief. Azelma often would stop when they came to a patch of ground partly sheltered from the snow, either by a building or a cart. Although neither Eponine nor Gavroche admitted it, they needed the resting time also. Azelma often grumbled about how they seemed to manage to avoid exhausting, and that her own limbs felt as if they would fall off. Her siblings said nothing, though. They refused to admit when they grew weary, and waited for Azelma to give in first.

Eponine smiled when Azelma once again called after them to stop. She sat down gratefully on the damp street, but this time did not bother to pull her skirt close to her. It did not keep her warm, now that it was soaked through. A man passed them, but did not give so much as a second glance. She had passed many people like herself, poor and pitifully skinny. But most, she could tell, were used to it. She could tell by the way they did not even look hopefully or longingly at the strangers passing. They knew what manner of charity they would receive: none. No person gave any attention to these street folk, and if there was a generous man who gave a little, the beggar would be more shocked than grateful. Eponine knew the reason why they received no help. Any person with enough spare money to give would think the same as always: "why give anything to these people? They will not live on longer than a few years, anyway." She kept her mind focused on the present, and did not think much of the other poor souls who wandered the streets.

Gavroche did not sit down. He gazed at a side street thoughtfully. He wandered casually over to it, and examined it. There seemed to be a few shops on the street, adn a steady flow of people,but not much more. A mischievous smile broke across his face.

"I've been here once before, yes, I have. Let me go, and I'll be back in all good time, sisters! Just wait right here." and with these words, Gavroche ran down the side street.

Eponine and Azelma both stood up hastily, and Eponine did not bother to brush the dirt off her skirt. She called after him, but the small boy refused to turn back, even though he had probably heard.

"What does he think he's up to?" Eponine asked, frustration clearly revealing itself in her voice. She took a few steps towards the street.

"Wait, he said he'd be back. D'you think we should stay here?" Azelma called cautiously. She went forwards to stand in front of her sister.

"What for? If anyone's to wait here it should be him," she started off again down the side street.

"We don't know where he's gone, so how do you expect to find him any quicker than if we just waited," Azelma grabbed her sister's arm, and, although she was weary, held tight.

Eponine gave her sister a look which could almost be called a glare, but then sighed. "If I'm not to look for him, then I should at least do something during the wait."

She hummed as she strolled onto the edge of the street. Azelma, as she expected, stuckto her side like an oldloyal dog. That girl was tense, and probably ready to pull, or shove,her out of trouble any minute. Eponine did not mean to walk far, though. She wandered, ignoring many of the people, just as they ignored her.

Someone caught her eye. It was a man trying to sell a few baskets of dry crops. She pitied him. The crops were wrinkled and shrunken, and looked to be hardly worth a sou. They probably were the remains of his autumn produce, grown in a small patch of land. He had the luxury of wearing a cap and a coat. Earlier he may have been more enthusiastic about selling his goods, but now he leaned against a building, and ignored his baskets on the ground. From the look of them, he had sold few, andwas remainingoutside only in a desperate hope to earn something. She only pitied him slightly, though, being herself in a position which was not so much worse than his. She never gave much thought to others poor and wretched like herself.

In his hand was what looked like a letter, and he held it in a manner which chilled her. He clutched it tightly, turning his knuckles whiter than they already were. It was the way a man would hold something he feared, which troubled him, which he could hardly believe was real, but which he feared even more to drop. A thought crossed her mind. She could offer to read that letter to him, and find what it contained. But he surely must already know the content, if he held it with such a deathly grip… or was it simply who the letter was from which made him act in this manner. It was unlikely that this man would need assistance to read the letter, but she did not want to forego even a slight chance of earning something. A hint of jealousy of Gavroche lurked in her intentions. He seemed to know everything about everything. This was a time when she was curious and in the need of an occupation, and finding out what troubled a poor man could be what she was looking for. Was this a cruel amusement? She did not think of the fact.

He looked up as she approached; hope of a possible customer gleaming in his sullen eyes. But this light soon fell when he saw that she was no more likely to have anything to buy his produce with than he was of being able to buy a carriage. She was a scrawny, ragged girl. The most he should need to do in her presence was guard his possessions, for she could be a thief.

"Do you need help with that letter, monsieur?"

The expression on his face was enough to answer her. For a moment she wondered if he would stand up and walk away, but he stood his ground. The colour of his face was now pale, and had the man had broken into a sweat.

"No," was the simpleanswer which he gave.

Slightly disappointed, she turned to walk away.

"What do you believe in, girl?"

She stopped, and frowned, "believe in?" she ventured cautiously.

"This is a letter from someone not too far from here. There have been strange occurances where she is."

"Strange?"

"There have always been the old village tales, but from what the woman tells me, the whole area is in on this new tale. They all believe it, as if it's real or something."

She stood, not saying a word. Is this man a lunatic? If he was, it was the last thing she needed. By this time, Azelma had come to stand at her side. She glanced curiously at Eponine. She looked at the man more closely, and Eponinefelt her tense. She was never as good around strangers as her. Nevertheless, it took all Eponine had to disguise how nervous she was herself.

The man continued, "There have been strange happenings, out there. Illness, disappearances… and the stories… I'm not sure myself whether she doesn't believe it. Apparently, some have fled," he sighed, "and all inone old village."

Azelma, took a step back, but did not dare to leave her sister alone with the man. Not a lunatic, thought Eponine, just a man who hadrecieved a letter fromone. Her own instincts were ordering her to go, and her mind did not disagree.

But this man had news from out of Paris, which was where they were going. She made no move. The man looked away, and turned back to his baskets; he had no more to tell.

Azelma gratefully walked away with her sister. The street rang with life. To the girls, time had quieted and slowed down with the odd conversation with the man. To the rest of the world, it was nothing.

"Oh, and if I were you," the man added after them, "I would stay away from such a place as that. Spread the word: keep away from the village of Montfermeil."