"You think you know a story, but you only know how it ends. To get to the heart of the story, you have to go back to the beginning."
King Henry VIII—The Tudors
Grey clouds and the overcast sky seem to wash out the color in everything, the threat of rain hanging over their heads as they drive away from the safe haven. Julianne stares out her window at the sea, constantly on her left as they drive down a coastal road. Every now and then she'll cut her gaze to the right and catch Dustfinger watching her, blue eyes smiling even while his mouth is stuck in a disinterested frown. She can't help her smile, her pinky resting on top of his.
It only takes an hour to reach a new road that winds through hills spotted with gray-washed houses and greenhouses. Mo's driving faster than he usually does, either anxious to get farther from Capricorn's village or to reach the author. It could be either one if she's being honest.
The surroundings are dull for a long while until they finally give way to greener colors of the meadows and olive trees. The road forks a few times during the drive, Mo constantly checking and double checking the map he has.
They reach the village sooner than Julianne had thought they would, so small that it can barely be called that with a few dozen houses and a church. That church, although nicer, can almost be a direct copy of the one Capricorn rules over. Julianne can still hear the sea faintly as it crashes against the shore when she gets out of the car, the sound reminding her of last night and the feeling of being held. Beside the car is a memorial for the people killed in the first two world wars, the list of names too long for her liking.
"No need to lock the car," Dustfinger says. "I'll keep an eye on it." He puts Gwin on a leash as he shoulders his pack and sits down on the steps that lead up to the memorial, Farid sitting down beside him without speaking. The pair seem so different in looks—Farid all dark browns while Dustfinger favors peaches and cream. Their personalities match up, and that's what really matters in the long run.
"I'm going to stay here," Julianne says, book in hand.
"Are you sure," Mo asks.
"Yeah, I've had enough adventures to last me a lifetime." She sits on the step below Dustfinger's, her elbows on her knees and her chin propped up on her palms. Mo gives a nod, beginning to walk away with Meggie in tow before Dustfinger calls after him.
"Don't forget you promised not to mention me!"
"Yes, alright," Mo calls back.
Julianne hears a match come to life as the other two disappear, the stench of sulphur letting her know that Farid is practicing with his matches again. He's determined to get it perfect and he's doing a fantastic job so far, catching up with Dustfinger at a fast pace. Soon he'll be ready to move on to the torches. There's the rattle of a matchbook being put away seconds before Farid jumps up and begins to run up and down the stairs as something to keep him occupied. Julianne watches him with a smile, his cheerful grin and energy making her feel alive for the first time since she was taken.
A large number of cats prowl through the village, a few of them giving the newcomers curious looks before scampering off. One cat isn't quite quick enough and Farid scoops it up in his arms, sitting on the steps petting it despite the fact that its claws are digging into his leg. He's an animal person, which speaks well about his sweet personality.
"How is your back doing," Dustfinger asks softly. A pleasant shiver races down her spine when she feels one of his fingers on her through the material of her cardigan and tank top.
"It's mainly healed by now since none of the cuts were deep, it just itches for the most part." He takes his hand away and she can no longer feel his gaze on her.
"Do you know how they control the cats around here," he asks, though not to Julianne. "When winter comes, they lock their pets safely inside their houses and leave dishes of poisoned milk out for the strays." The gray cat Farid had been holding runs past her a few seconds later, followed by a heavy silence. Why the hell would he say something like that to a kid?
The silence isn't lifted until Meggie and Mo show back up, looking grim and a little guilty. God, what did they do this time? The way they're looking at Dustfinger, the concern and pity so visible in Meggie's eyes, makes Julianne's stomach twist. That's the look you get when someone knows something and they're not sure if they should tell you, something bad.
"This isn't gonna be good," Julianne mutters under her breath.
"Am I right in guessing there were no copies left?"
"Yes," Mo nods," they were all stolen years ago." She stands up, a sudden cold dread making her want to hide behind Mo like she did when she was a little girl. She wants to bury her face in his back and breathe in the familiar scent of new leather and old books. She could pretend that everything will be alright since she has Mo and Mo has her.
"Why are you staring at me like that, princess?" Dustfinger's tone is snappish, but Julianne's gaze locks onto her Converse and she can't bring herself to look up again. "Do you know something I don't?" An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air like a palpable thing you could reach out and touch. "Curse it all!"
"Dustfinger," Mo starts, but he's cut off by a dull thud. Julianne looks up in time to see Dustfinger favoring one foot, realizing that he must have kicked the wall of the building next to him. "You told the writer about me and now your daughter knows more about me than I do! Tell me what it is, I have a right to know. Basta's the cause, isn't he? Does he string me up by my neck and hang me till I'm dead?"
"Dusty," Julianne says. She wants to calm him down, but he's already in hysterics.
"No! No, the story's changed now! He's in this world and he can't hurt me if you send me back!" He takes a step toward Mo, looking as though he's ready to throttle him until Mo agrees to try and read him back, but Meggie steps between the two men. She's far braver than her older sister will ever be.
"It wasn't Basta," she shouts back, pushing his chest with her small hands until he moves back. "It was one of Capricorn's men that is still in the book. They were going to kill Gwin, but you got in the way and they killed you instead! If you go back now, you'll still be killed, and nothing will have changed!" Tears gather in his eyes, making the blue seem to shine in the sunlight. He wipes them away furiously, retreating away from Meggie when she tries to take his hand. "Don't you see? Here you have a chance to escape, to run away from Capricorn before he—"
Before he has you killed and nothing changes at all, Julianne finishes in her mind, suddenly feeling too dizzy to stand. She sits heavily on one of the steps, feeling like she's about to get sick.
An old man breaks away from a group of three small children, a happy grin on his face as he approaches them. "My grandchildren have been admiring that tame Marten you have on your chain," he says cheerfully. "They say that the marten can do tricks and the boy is a fire-eater. Do you think we could enjoy some close up magic?" His mood is too chipper after the blow Dustfinger has just taken, too forced in a way. It's like he already knows what's going on. The way the old man studies Dustfinger is unsettling, like Dustfinger is his prized pureblood hound and he's returned home after far too long away.
"No, we don't do tricks," Dustfinger manages after a moment. "There's nothing to be seen here." He takes a couple of steps away, but the old man follows and reaches out a hand as though to touch Dustfinger's scarred cheek.
"I'm sorry…." He continues forward as Dustfinger continues back until he's stuck between the old man and a car. Dustfinger looks like a trapped animal about to go on the defensive at any second if the old man doesn't back away.
"Go away!" He shoves the old man away roughly, moving quickly so that he's no longer pinned. "Farid, get my things!" Farid is fast, gathering Dustfinger's bags and bringing them to the older man in record time. Dustfinger takes his backpack, forcing Gwin into it without paying any mind to the marten's sharp bite, shouldering the pack and attempting to push past the old man once more.
"Please, I only wish to talk!"
"I don't want to talk to you." He walks fast, pushing past everybody with Farid hot on his heels. Both begin to run after a few feet, Dustfinger looking like he can't get away fast enough. Julianne watches them as they disappear before turning on the others.
"Who are you," she demands of the old man, standing suddenly enough to have him move back a few paces.
"I-I am Fenoglio, I wrote Dustfinger's story." He sounds disappointed, a deep longing in his voice as he stares off in the direction Farid and Dustfinger ran in. "I thought he would be pleased to see the man that created him."
"Would you be happy to see a man that wouldn't explain himself? That wrote your death and then moved on with his life so easily?" Julianne shakes her head, turning her back on the group so they don't see the angry tears stinging her eyes.
Going back to where it all started had been a mistake, all that's occurred is loss and heartbreak.