A/N: My version of Cairnholm Island is a little bit different that Ransom Riggs' but Miss Peregrine's house and all that jazz shall remain exactly the same!

I had never been out of the country before, so stepping off the ferry and onto Cairnholm Island for the first time was like a breath of fresh air to me- fresh air that smelled of the salty sea and of wet grass. The flight had been long, but I had wasted most of the time sipping a Coke I bought from the flight attendant and drawing a picture of the bird I had seen in my widow. It had been a beautiful bird and I prayed for nothing but my picture I had taken of it would come out. Otherwise, I just sat doing nothing but listening to my Mp3 player. I slept a little, too. To my surprise, not one person on the plane or on the ferry had even looked at me crossly. I knew then that this trip would be the best thing that ever happened to me.

Once on the island, I found myself standing in a small, nineteenth century town. Small cottages lined the street. I saw a few signs that marked pubs. I took out the map and intently studied it. I focused on the word "cave" that was written on the top. I guess whoever Alma Peregrine was; she wanted me to find a cave here on Cairnholm Island. Any average teenager would have thrown the envelope away, thinking it was a hoax, but with the feeling I received when I read it, I knew that I had something truly amazing hidden within it. I couldn't just ignore such a peculiar incident, and, besides, I loved the way that it was making me feel. It made me feel special in a manner. No one else in my household would've received such an intriguing thing in the mail, I knew that matter-of-factly, and it was a fact that I took pride in.

As I walked around, the natives of the Island looked at me as if they had never seen someone clad in all black before.

I had no idea where to start. I figured that I'd ask someone. I found a small church. As I walked inside, it was empty. Everything around me was finely sculpted and beautiful. I stopped to admire the beautiful stain glass window.

"Why, hello," a voice rang out.

I whirled around to find myself face-to-face with a handsome young man. He had wavy brown hair and big, gray eyes. He was dressed in a black suit.

"Are you the preacher?" I asked clumsily.

He laughed a little. "No, but I'm his son." He had a thick Welsh accent, but he was understandable. He offered his hand. "I'm Allistar."

I shook his hand. "Minnette Stonington."

He licked his lips curiously. "Don't mind me asking, but, is that an American accent?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes."

He looked around as if he was expecting someone to walk into the church at any time. He eyed my suitcases on the floor at my feet. "What are you doing all the way in Cairnholm? Isn't it a little far from home?" he had kindness in his voice.

"I'm looking for a cave," I replied.

"You mean a cairn?" Allistar placed a pondering hand on his chin. He then began to walk in a slow circle, part of his thinking process. He thought for quite a few moments before he faced me again. "The only cairn I know of is up near the old children's home."

Children's home? Was Alma Peregrine a child? If so, what did she want to see me for? And how did she even get my address?

The time has come for your presence to be known at once. That line from the letter had stuck in my mind the whole trip. It sounded as if whoever Alma was needed to see me over something important, as if I held the secret to some long-lost mystery or something. The whole thing reminded me of something I would see on the mystery channel on TV.

Then it hit me.

I will be seeing you soon at the Home of the Peculiars.

Children's home. Perhaps "peculiars" was one of those European slang words for orphans? I was pretty sure now that Alma LeFay Peregrine is an orphan.

"How do I get there?" I asked quickly.

He shook his head. "I wouldn't suggest going up there all by your lonesome. There are heaps of cliffs and wolves up that way. No one goes up there." He was being utterly irritating. This man had an attraction to me, that was clear and we had only known each other five minutes. Don't girls get married young in this country?

I smirked flirtatiously. Perhaps my odd beauty would be able to get some information out of this young man. I fluttered my eyebrows and pursed my lips slightly. I had seen Claire flirt with many men back home, and I was sure that I could do the same. I kept my eyes sincere but made sure that they appeared to spark interest in him, although they truly didn't. He met me with a small smile, and I reflected it back. I wasn't dramatically beautiful, but I wasn't ugly, either. My charm had to have some kind of weight on this man.

"Why do you need to go to the cairn?" he asked.

I whipped something up fast.

"My grandmother, you see, she lives on the mainland. She wanted me to meet her here so she could take me home with her. She wrote me a letter." I reached in my pocket and revealed the letter. I left it folded so he couldn't read it. "She wants me to meet her at the cave- cairn thing."

He smirked. I must have been matching whatever stereotype these people had about Americans. "Why not just go to the mainland?" Alright, now he was just being ignorant.

"You don't know my grandmother. She's a tricky lady." I winked and put the letter in my pocket.

He sighed. "I suppose I could take you up there with my father's permission."

Good timing it was, for as he just finished speaking, a man in a preacher's outfit appeared. He stopped at Allistar's side.

"Allistar, there you are!" he exclaimed. He noticed me. "And who might this be?"

"Father, this is Minnette," Allistar introduced me. "She's from America."

The man's face lit up. "Oh? Is that so!" He shook my hand. "Welcome to Cairnholm. I'm Father Malone."

"Hello," I greeted happily.

Allistar nodded approvingly. "She's looking to go to the old cairn by the children's home. Her grandmother is meeting her there."

Father Malone laughed. "Your grandmother must be some kind of ninny!" he bellowed. "Well, alright then. Allistar, why don't you take her up there with Old Jack? It'd be a lot easier on the legs." He patted Allistar's shoulders.

Allistar nodded. "Yes, Father."

I bade Father Malone goodbye, and told him to have a nice day. Outside, Allistar disappeared behind the church. He returned moments later with a huge brown horse hitched to a small cart. I smiled. I liked horses.

"So, this must be Old Jack?" I asked, patting the horse's neck.

Alistar got down and picked up my suitcases for me. "Yep. He's a good animal," he said, placing my bag in the cart. "We're wasting daylight. Let's go."

Allistar helped me into the cart. He jumped up beside me and popped the reins. Old Jack started up the road, which headed out of town. Father Malone was right, traveling by horse-drawn cart was a lot easier on our legs. There were a lot of hills and most of them were slippery from a recent rainfall. As we rode, Allistar explained to me that Cairnholm got its name from all of the cairns that were on the Island.

"There's thousands of them. But the one you're looking for is the biggest for miles."

"My grandmother grew up in the children's home," I explained to him when he fell silent. "She wants me to see it. Do you know by any chance the name of the person who ran it?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No idea."

Old Jack began to pull the cart with a will as thick forest began to surround us. His hooves made suction noises with every step as he trotted along. The horse had no difficulty whatsoever get us to the cairn. Allistar pulled him to a stop.

"Where's your grandmother?"

I jumped off the cart and retrieved my bags. "She's here somewhere, I'm sure."

He looked at me serenely. "Would you like me to stay until you find her?" he asked. I know he really wanted to.

I shook my head. "No. But thanks for the ride."

"No problem," he replied disappointedly. "Cheerio," he said as he started the cart slowly.

I stood and watched him disappear into the trees. I then straightened my shoulders, and headed toward the mouth of the cairn.