The cart was already prepared for them, hitched onto the back of their father's bike so that they could go into town. It was something that they had to do probably every two weeks, those trips into the tiny village that was through the woods. Hazel and Gretchen sat in the back. They always had, because their father couldn't exactly steer with them on the bike.

When they'd been small, it had been a serious problem.

Now that they were getting older, it was different.

Leaving them at the cabin alone had been deemed a less than ideal solution, and so they went with their father.

"Alright—" Their father said, holding his bow and quiver as he looked between the twins. "Which one of you wants it?"

Gretchen shot forward. "I do!" She said. "Hazel can't shoot anyways."

Their father directed a look at Hazel. "Are you alright with that?"

He nodded, seating himself on one side of the cart while his sister settled in on the other, resting the bow across her lap in case they ended up needing it later. Hazel hoped that they wouldn't, and if they did he hoped that it was only because they'd happened upon something that could be killed for food.

After the incident at the pond, Hazel never wanted to see another grimm.

He still couldn't get what had happened with Gretchen out of his head. Something had happened there, something great and terrible that he couldn't ignore. More than a semblance, almost like magic.

Their father sighed and climbed onto the bike. "You two better be sitting back there."

"We are." Hazel responded.

With that, the bike's engine rumbled to life and they started on the drive to town so that they could get whatever provisions that they'd need for the few weeks ahead of them. When they were running low, they'd make the same trip again.

It was a comfortable part of their family's routine, one that Hazel had grown used to long before. Gretchen was just as used to it, he knew. He settled back into his seat and tried to let his mind wander. Every time that it began to, Hazel couldn't help looking back to his sister.

Three weeks had passed since the incident at the pond.

Something had happened there, and it was something that Hazel was still doing his absolute best to put together. Talking to Gretchen about it hadn't gotten him anywhere. All that had happened was that every time the topic was brought up, Gretchen would stop talking about it altogether, like it was something that was forbidden. Hazel had been there and she wouldn't even talk about it.

To pretend as though it didn't have him bothered at all wasn't right. Hazel was beyond bothered. He just wanted to know that his sister was doing alright, that they were okay. All that their father had given him had been a lecture about how it wasn't safe to go off into the forest alone, and that he needed to help keep his sister safe.

Nothing more.

It seemed that he had no intention of going further with the topic, regardless of whether Hazel deserved it or not.

Gretchen squirmed in her seat on her side of the cart, and even let her legs stretch out in front of her. Her feet bumped up against Hazel's, which only made him pull his own legs back to give her a little bit more room. He bowed his head and tried to get comfortable, at least enough to make sure that the wind wouldn't be blowing directly onto his face the entire time.

"Hey." Gretchen called to him. "What are the odds we get to check out the market?"

"Likely." Hazel replied to his sister. They usually were given a small amount of freedom when they were in the village, if only because it got the two of them out of their father's hair long enough that he could do everything that needed to be done. "Why?"

Gretchen looked down at the bow in her lap. "You think they'd sell me a weapon?"

The question came out of nowhere, practically a slap to the face that Hazel was immediately taken aback by. They were kids. Being able to occasionally handle their father's bow when needed didn't mean that either of them would be able to handle a real weapon. There were probably even rules about who weapons were able to be sold to.

"Probably not." Hazel admitted. He knew that there was an age limit for anyone that wanted to buy Dust— he'd learned that lesson when he'd been asked to pick up a few packets of Fire Dust for their father years before. Without at least an academy license that marked him as a Huntsman in training, he was entirely barred from purchasing raw Dust until he was at least eighteen.

Gretchen put on a pout. "I'm just saying, maybe we could use one next time—"

"There shouldn't be a next time!" Hazel replied, feeling an odd panic already beginning to settle in his chest. "We almost died!"

"But we didn't!" Gretchen protested back. "I dunno, I just think that maybe if I got my own weapon and started using it, we'd have a lot less to worry about."

Hazel swallowed hard. "This isn't a good idea, Gretchen."

"How about this—" She leaned in towards him, putting on a mischievous grin. "We got into the market and I try to get a weapon, and we see what happens."

Hazel rolled his eyes. "Neither of us have the Lien." He said. "And we're too young."

"We'll see." Gretchen sat back up, and for the rest of the ride the two of them sat in relative silence. She fiddled with the bowstring as she waited, and Hazel found that there was little he could do other than try to occupy his own thoughts.

Within half an hour the three of them were pulling into town. Their father parked the bike and cart just outside of the market. Before either of the twins even tried to get out, he walked around to the back of the cart and looked between the two of them.

"The two of you are to stay in the market." He all but ordered of the two of them. "You can go into the shops, but better be willing to go as soon as I say."

"Got it." The twins said in unison.

"Gretchen, my bow."

She rolled her eyes and got up, soon enough she approached their father to hand off the bow and quiver. He took it and gave her a somewhat suspicious look. Gretchen just shot back the same smile that she always did when she wanted to make it seem like she wasn't up to anything.

"Alright." Their father said. "Go on."

With that, Gretchen took off before Hazel did, straight in the direction of the weapons stand like she'd mentioned. Hazel barely got off of the cart when he got his father's hand on his shoulder.

"Keep an eye on her." Their father muttered, just loudly enough that only Hazel could hear before Hazel was freed to follow after Gretchen.

Hazel fully intended to keep an eye on Gretchen anyways. He hadn't needed to be told, but in some way it made him feel a little better to know that their father was feeling concerned about Gretchen in the same way that Hazel was. He'd probably even overheard the conversation between Hazel and Gretchen on the way there.

If their father was worried, why not say why?

When Hazel found her, Gretchen was at a weapon's stand looking through a book of the work that the blacksmith had done. She flipped from page to page, a certain sort of wonder on her expression.

"Gretchen?"

"Hey." She looked up at him and shot Hazel a quick smile before she looked back to the book. "Have you seen the sorts of weapons that Huntsmen get commissioned?"

"I… haven't." Hazel admitted as he drew in close. Gretchen had the page open to what looked like a combination between a hunting rifle and some sort of hand scythe. It didn't seem particularly practical. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe someday—"

"Those are custom pieces." The blacksmith spoke up. "Are you looking to go to one of the Academies?"

Gretchen's head shot up. "Oh, uh—" She hesitated. "I'd like to."

"You're certainly old enough to apply to one of the combat schools." The blacksmith said, and just like that and odd silence settled over the entire room. Hazel and Gretchen both knew about the combat schools of course, but it was something else entirely to actually think about trying to attend one of them.

Gretchen leaned in over the book, almost to the point where she was up on the counter with it. "How do I do that?"

"Well," the Blacksmith started, considering. "For one you'd need to be able to prove that you can fight."

"What else?" Gretchen prodded the shopkeeper on. "Do I need a weapon?"

The man sighed. "Well, you'd probably need to be able to afford the trip out to Patch to start, then the tuition."

Gretchen looked at Hazel, and Hazel already knew what she was thinking. Even if their father could afford the tuition for one of them, sending both of them off would be too much. Much more than was reasonable, at least.

She ran her fingers over the image of the weapon that was on the page. "Maybe someday." Gretchen said wistfully, considering it. "What do you think, Hazel?"

"Maybe someday." Hazel echoed his sister, not sure what else there was that he could say to her.

A part of him hoped that vague someday never actually came.