They don't much care for you
No, they don't like your kind
The way you look, walk or the way you talk
The way you always speak your mind
Nervous—Melissa Etheridge
Navigating the Wayless Wood at night while keeping Night-Mares and fire-elves at bay is difficult, doing all that while keeping track of two headstrong teenagers is even worse. Julianne wants to beat them over their heads with a rolled up newspaper, but Dustfinger said they should just yell instead. Also, newspapers haven't been invented yet in this story.
"Farid," Meggie whispers," let's just climb a tree and wait for morning. It's too dark to keep going like this." Dustfinger and Julianne glance at each other and then at the kids through the foliage, nodding in unison.
"My own opinion exactly," Dustfinger says loudly as they join the other two. "We've been able to hear you plowing through the forest behind us like a herd of wild boar for the last hour!"
"What were you thinking," Julianne adds, voice cutting. Meggie winces at the sound, totally unfamiliar with the tone. "This isn't some park that you can frolic in, this is the Wayless Wood! Vagabonds would love to rob the two of you blind! And don't even get us started on the Night-Mares!"
"Night-Mares," Farid echoes, voice hoarse with fear. The faint sparks of fire on his fingertips go out, casting them all in darkness.
"The Night-Mares," Dustfinger yells.
"I told you not to get him started on the Night-Mares," Julianne grumbles.
"We've had a hell of a time keeping them away from you two! Not to mention the fire-elves we had to convince that you weren't breaking the branches of their ash trees for fun!" Meggie steps closer to Farid, the fear wrapping around her not quite dimming the hard resolve that straightens her spine. Let it be known that Meggie Folchart is anything but a coward. Julianne's a little jealous of that right now.
"I'm not going back," Meggie states, all stubborn pride. "I don't care what the two of you say." She's got her chin jutted out just like Resa used to when she and Mo would argue about which books were appropriate for Julianne to listen to.
"Good God, it's like dealing with Resa all over again." Dustfinger rubs his hands over his face, letting out a sharp sigh when he notices that Meggie's expression hasn't changed. He turns and points at Julianne, the very figure of a scolding parent. "This is your fault."
"What," she asks in surprise. "How's this my fault?"
"You helped raise the stubborn thing. Resa wasn't around to teach her to be such a pain in my ass, so that falls to you. You taught her how to dig her heels in." Julianne scoffs and glances over at her sister, but Meggie and Farid are both nodding along to Dustfinger's logic.
"Yeah, well, your kids all have your temper."
"I don't have a temper."
"You have an awful temper," Farid says matter-of-factly.
"Just God awful," Meggie adds, nodding. "Can we get going now? Otherwise we'll never catch up with Mo and Resa." Dustfinger's jaw clenches as he turns to look at Julianne again, gesturing at Meggie. Julianne just rolls her eyes and nods, well aware that impatience is something she shares with her sister. It's not her worst quality, dammit.
"Fine, yes," Dustfinger says after a moment. "Let's get going."
They walk through the night and most of the next day, stopping only briefly when Meggie staggers against Farid with exhaustion. By the time they make it to a winding road that leads past a busy inn, Julianne feels like her bladder is going to explode. She hangs back as the others head toward the underbrush, finding a relatively private place to relieve herself. She's pretty sure an exploding bladder isn't something they need to add to the growing list of problems
"Feeling better," Dustfinger asks when she joins him at the side of the road. He's hunkered down behind the undergrowth, watching her approach.
"Peachy keen," she says, kneeling down beside him. "Where are our monsters?" He nods toward the inn where Firefox is bellowing something. Meggie and Farid are huddled near a stable, sticking close together and hoping to blend in with the other servants. "Well, that doesn't have the high probability of going to hell."
"As long as they keep their heads down, they'll be fine. Firefox isn't the type to stare too hard at stable boys and young maids." Julianne nods, settling down on her belly. "Maybe you should go down there and see if you can convince Firefox to let you see the prisoners."
"In what world would that actually work?"
"Well, Jehan told me all about how he gave you that comb you're so fond of." Dustfinger isn't looking at her, too busy studying a leaf near his hand. She purses her lips and flips onto her back, wriggling until she's in his eyesight. "What?"
"Are you jealous?" He doesn't answer, pretending not to notice that she's in his personal space. He tries to focus on the inn, Firefox and another man yelling at each other. It's nothing new, the fire-raiser has a spectacular temper. "I never figured you were the jealous type."
"Well, I guess you figured me wrong." He's still not looking at her, so she catches his chin in her hand and tilts his head down.
"You know why Firefox gave me that comb? Because I calmed Jacopo down. He gave Brianna a comb, too." His eyes narrow and he jerks his chin out of her grasp to glare at Firefox through the brush. "Oh, my God," she groans, supporting herself on her arms. "Try as you might, glaring isn't going to kill Firefox."
"Certainly doesn't hurt to try."
"Jesus, and you say my family is stubborn." She snorts, shaking her head. "Alright, I guess I'll join you." She turns onto her stomach again to stare through the undergrowth at the muddy yard of the inn. Firefox is bellowing out orders again, gesturing at one of the stables. An old woman yells back at him and marches inside with Meggie following her.
"That was a moss-woman, a healer. They must be tending to your father."
"Yeah, letting him die on the way to the silver castle isn't as fun as a hanging." Dustfinger glances over at her, covering one of her hands with his.
"We're not going to let that happen, little bird."
"Don't make promises you can't keep." He leans close, breath warm against her ear when he speaks again.
"I think I've done fairly well when it comes to the promises I've made to you." She can't help the full-body shiver that rushes through her, Dustfinger smirking down at her. She scowls up at him, not one to back down from a challenge.
"As I recall, sex and lattes are a lot easier to get than a legal pardon from execution. Although, if you could find a way to get me a latte in this story, I'd be eternally grateful. The lack of caffeine here is enough to make me understand how Jack Torrance felt when he was stuck in the Overlook." Dustfinger arches his brows, not fully understanding the reference. "He and his family got snowed in, the hotel possessed him, and he tried to murder his wife and son with a roque mallet."
"I vaguely recall that."
"I only listened to it for a full week while you and Farid crashed in my dorm."
"He watched the movie based on that book, you know. Tyler loaned it to him after you were read here and the boy had nightmares about it for a week." His hand slides up her arm and down again until it rests on the small of her back, a warm weight that's as familiar as breathing. "I really did miss you after you were read into my story."
"I missed you, too, and I would love to continue this conversation later with a few less articles of clothing. Right now, though, we should probably focus on the two demon spawns we sent to spy on the enemy."
"Now who's making promises?" She doesn't answer, but she's grinning as she focuses back on the inn. There are soldiers milling about the yard, a flash of blonde hair disappearing behind the stable, but Firefox is nowhere to be seen. He must have gone inside for the night, delegating guard duty to the men-at-arms. "We'll head down there in about an hour. No need to draw attention to ourselves when it's easier to be sneaky."
"That'll be easier to accomplish this time around since I haven't recently been whipped with a belt." She still has scars across her back from the last time, ugly things that she can't look at for too long.
"He won't ever hurt you like that again." She nods, worrying at her bottom lip and not answering. She doesn't like thinking about the stretch in Capricorn's village; not the feeling of leather snapping against her back or Capricorn's silver dollar eyes on her as she sang.
It's pitch black when Dustfinger and Julianne steal across the lawn, moving like shadows past the four guards standing sentinel in front of the stable. Mo's in there, she thinks, fighting the urge to burst inside the stable and hunt him out. She wants to hug him and smell the cologne of old paper and leather that clings to him.
They find Farid and Meggie fairly easily despite the darkness, their voices raised in an argument. Dustfinger claps a hand over Farid's mouth to cut off his rant, the boy startling. He doesn't relax when he notices who the hand belongs to, brows furrowed above his eyes.
"What the hell do you two think you're doing," Dustfinger hisses. "You're both going to end up in the stable with the other prisoners." Meggie bows her head, hiding the tears glistening in her eyes. Julianne presses her hand on the back of Meggie's head to smooth down some flyaway hair.
"She wants to go back inside the stable," Farid whispers, voice gaining in volume as he continues. "She thinks the guards will be asleep—" Dustfinger's hand goes back over the boy's mouth as voices ring out in the yard. Someone's bringing the guards food, music and strained singing echoing out of the inn. Piper's here.
"Where's the Black Prince," Dustfinger asks when the voices die away again.
"Between the bakehouse and the main building. Tell her she can't go back in the stable! There are at least fifteen guards in there!"
"How many guarding the Prince?"
"Three." Dustfinger glances up at the sky, looking pleased when he notices that the moon is still hidden behind the clouds. A cloudy night is best for breaking dear friends out of chains. "Are you going to free him? We can cut the guards' throats easily!"
"You know very well that I don't like cutting throats. How many prisoners are in the stable?"
"Eleven women, three children, and nine men not counting Silvertongue." Julianne draws in a sharp breath, pressing a shaking hand against the cold wood of the stable. Mo's in there, she thinks again and feels tears stinging her eyes. Dustfinger frowns and glances back to Meggie.
"Did you see your father in there, Meggie? Can he walk?"
"No, he's still too weak," she says in a rasping voice. "I think Fenoglio's words helped him, though." Relief is a slow trickle that makes her feel slightly lighter than before, the fact that her father is slowly recovering the best news she's heard in a long while. "I didn't get a chance to talk to Resa, but she looked okay."
"We're all going to be okay," Julianne promises even if she doesn't believe it yet herself. "We're gonna get Mo and Resa away from here."
"I know." Meggie turns a pleading gaze on Dustfinger, all wide-eyed agony that would tear at even the hardest of hearts. "Please, can I go back in there? I'll be very careful!" Dustfinger looks torn, but then Julianne has widened her eyes as well and he gives her a look like he's regretting all his life choices.
"Think up a damn good lie because those guards aren't going to sleep for fear of Firefox's wrath. Do you have anything to write a note with?" She nods, pulling a notebook and pencil from her satchel. The pages are marbled and the spine is stamped with a gold unicorn, Mo's work.
"Just like that Tremors movie." She winks at Julianne even as the other two shoot each other confused looks. "I'm prepared for anything book-related."
"You'd make Burt proud," Julianne confirms with a quiet laugh. Meggie's answering smile is like a balm, soothing the ragged edges of Julianne's emotions better than anything. If her sister still has the energy to smile, then nothing is totally lost. "What do you want her to write, Dusty?"
"How about an order to see a therapist," he quips dryly. "You both need medical care if you still have the energy to make movie references while hiding from guards with malicious intent."
"We're well aware of our shortcomings, dear. The note?"
"Write that there'll be a fallen tree lying across the road they take tomorrow. When it catches fire, everyone strong and young enough must run into the forest to the left. To the left: That's important! Write that we'll be waiting there to hide them. Did you get that down?" Meggie nods, pencil scribbling over the paper at a dizzying pace.
"I don't think I could ever write that fast. The letters get too muddled in my head."
"You're not the only one. Now, Meggie, have you thought about what you're going to tell the guards?" Meggie nods, bubbling with excitement at the idea of seeing Mo and Resa again. She's off before Farid can stop her, running into the inn and disappearing. When she comes back out, she's holding a jug that she carries carefully up to the stable.
"The moss-woman sent me," she tells the guard stationed outside. "She said I'm to give the children milk." The guard mutters something and then steps aside to let Meggie inside, completely unaware of the fist-pump Farid is doing behind the stable.
"Clever as a jackal and braver than a lioness," he states confidently. The admiration in his tone makes Julianne smile a little. She also makes a note to give them both The Talk because she's not ready to be an aunt yet.
"Cleverer than the three of us, that's for sure," Dustfinger says, nodding. Julianne wants to argue that she's plenty clever, thanks very much, but that would be a lie she's not prepared to defend. Give her a week, then she'll circle around to point out something clever she's done. Farid grins brightly when Meggie joins them again, his happiness matching hers.
"Did you see that," she asks. "Easy as pie."
"Good. Let's all just cross our fingers and hope the next part of my plan goes as smoothly. Farid, how would you feel about playing with fire while I free the Prince?" Farid's grin, if possible, grows wider and he nods excitedly. "Go on and stand where the guards can see you, pull out all the stops."
"On it," he says, sprinting away. He doesn't slip in the mud once, which is a miracle considering how much of it has been churned up by Firefox's men.
Farid starts out with simple tricks, stealing the attention away from the Black Prince and his bear. Dustfinger moves on silent feet when the coast is clear, ducking behind the bakehouse and then farther away to where the Prince is being held. Farid's movements are fluid things that make Julianne think of ballerinas, tricks folding into each other and swirling in bright colors of orange and red as a new trick is revealed.
"He's very good, isn't he," Meggie asks, lovestruck.
"Keep it in your pants," Julianne mutters. Farid throws his torches higher and higher until it seems like the flames are trying to kiss the stars. He really is impressive, a few more years and he might even outshine Dustfinger. The door of the inn opens to let light and music spill out across the yard, a maid moving over to where the Prince is being held to dump a bucket of slop. She disappears back into the inn a moment later, darkness washing back over them all like a blanket. Only the fire provides light now, moving and spinning until Julianne feels dizzy.
The door opens again, a heavyset man stomping out into the night with a scowl fixed in place and an accusing finger pointed at Farid. He's yelling and the guards are laughing and Farid just dances out of his way without losing control over the fire he's playing with. He glances in their direction and Julianne nods at the woods, Farid winking before bowing to his audience. The torches gutter out, leaving everyone confused and blind. One of the soldiers tries to grab Farid but ends up popping him in the mouth instead, reaching blindly. Before the man can try again, Farid runs over to the stable as the chaos starts to pick up speed, the guards realizing the Black Prince and his bear have escaped.
"Come on, they won't come too far into the woods if they really think the bear is a Night-Mare," Julianne says. The kids move faster than Julianne, the three of them reaching the fallen tree before Dustfinger. Julianne starfishes out on the hard-packed road, staring up at the sky and doing her best to ignore the way Meggie has her head on Farid's shoulder.
"Why are you staring at us," Farid asks. "And why do you look so frustrated?"
"Because I can't give the two of you the safe sex talk since condoms aren't a thing here. How can you have safe sex without a condom? Hell, they don't even have Plan B in this story. How am I supposed to get laid now? I'm not ready to give my kid a sibling!" She's still dealing with her crisis when Dustfinger appears, coming around the tree and letting Jink slide out of his bag. Jink and Gwin run into the woods together, chattering like old friends.
"Is he free," Farid asks. Dustfinger kneels in front of them both, taking Farid's chin in his hand to examine the busted lip.
"Yes and he's agreed to help us tomorrow. How'd you do this?"
"One of the guards tried to grab me in the dark." She doesn't have to glance over at them to know that Farid is shrugging off Dustfinger's concern. "Did I do a good job? Did you see me juggling?" The excitement is back, like a little boy seeking praise from his father. That's exactly what this is, even if neither of the boys realize that.
"So good that I'm beginning to worry. If you carry on like this I'll soon be out of a job." There's a beat of silence and then Dustfinger's talking again, giving his full attention to Meggie. "If we really manage to free some of the captives tomorrow, the Black Prince will take them to safety. The four of us will follow the others."
"Why," she asks softly. "Why do you want to help them?" Julianne wonders if her sister is thinking of that afternoon in a crypt. They'd just locked Basta in the cage and were ready to escape, but Dustfinger had tried to get Resa to leave Meggie behind before he gave up hope and slung Julianne over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Julianne dreams of that day sometimes, of what might have happened had they both been caught. How would things have gone differently? Would she even be alive?
"Let's just say that I have some things to make up for." Another beat and then Dustfinger is standing over her. He's got his brows raised and his hands on his hips. "What's wrong with your sister, Meggie?"
"She's having an existential crisis because she's not ready for Dustin to have a sibling." Julianne lets out a groan of pure frustration, kicking her feet against the ground like a toddler throwing a fit. She happens to like sex even if she's only ever had it with one man, she'd like to have again sometime without the threat of pregnancy.
"Well, maybe I have something that will assuage her fears."
"And what might that be," Julianne asks, letting him pull her to her feet. He puts her hand in the pocket of his coat, letting her feel a foil packet and smiling when her eyes widen. "Is this a hint that you'd like to continue that conversation we had while those two dorks were playing spy kids?"
"Got anything better to do?" She thinks for a moment, weighing the pros and cons before shrugging. "Come on, I'm sure we can find a romantic spot to talk." Meggie groans loudly behind them, thumping her head against the moss-covered tree trunk. Julianne sends her a wink.
"Keep it in your pants," she hollers as Julianne and Dustfinger disappear into the woods.