A/N: I'm sorry that Miss Peregrine doesn't explain Peculiars as fancy as she did in the book, that part confused my brain! Thank you to astridzeogearfried for reviewing!

The cairn was rather a tight squeeze. I had to hunch practically on my knees to get through. It was a very uncomfortable position to be in, for my suitcase made it hard to maneuver through the narrow path of rock. I slid through a little at a time, so as to not bump my head or my body into the sides. The farther I got through, the less comfortable it became. I wasn't claustrophobic or anything but I disliked it. I was more than relived when I had managed to squeeze out into the other side.

The sun blinded me. I held a hand over my eyes until they properly adjusted. The smell of fresh grass filled my nostrils and I immediately felt better. I set my suitcases down long enough to smooth my hands over my dress. I picked them back up and I was on my way. I walked for about a half mile before I noticed the top of a structure poking out from the treetops. Everything inside me leapt with excitement. That must be the children's home!

I soon found myself standing at the end of great terrace, overlooking an immense brick house. Once again I set down my bags and pulled out the photograph. I was in awe. The house I stood in front of was the same exact house from the photograph. I lowered the photo and took it all in. In front of the house was a menagerie of beautiful flowers all of different colors. I heard birds singing happily and it felt as if I was in a whole different world- like I wasn't on Cairnholm Island. I could see people moving inside the house, and somewhere I heard children laughing.

I'm here, Alma, I thought.

As I stood there, just soaking up the beauty of the house, a voice rang out.

"WWWWIIIIGGGHHHHTTTTTT!" it screamed.

The sound pulled me out of my reverie and I glanced toward the side of the house to see a group of children charging at me. Before I had time to react, two children leaped on me.

"I got her!" shouted a girl that was on my back. She began pulling my hair.

"Ow!" I cried.

There was a boy dressed in a fancy suit, with a top hat and monocle. He had a stick in his hand and he drew back with it.

"Hit it, Horace!" the girl on my back shouted.

The boy named Horace drew back further and gave me a good whap right in the stomach. I wailed out.

"Good job, guys," said another girl. They froze. She stood before me. "Now, let me at her." She cupped her hands and something fiery appeared between her palms. I gasped.

"Roast her, Emma!" yelled Horace.

"No! No! No!" came a developed voice. With what little control I had, I managed to peer toward the house. A woman in a black dress with a bit of a limp was making her way hastily down the terrace from the house.

"Children!" she hissed. "Stop this nonsense!"

"Don't worry, Miss Peregrine! We got her!" said Emma, the girl with fiery hands.

Miss Peregrine? I thought.

"Yes, Headmistress, I'll beat this wight into a pulp!" said Horace.

The woman stopped before us quickly. All I could see was her skirts, for the girl on my back was heavy and I was doubled over,

"That is not a wight! That is my new ward!"

Ward?

The children froze again. The girl slid off my back.

"Ward, Headmistress?" Horace asked.

The woman straightened her posture. She pushed an unruly dark curl from her face. To me, she looked like one of the women I had seen in an old Victorian photograph. I guessed she had to be in her early to mid-forties. She had a slightly big, slanted nose, and circular glasses. She was dressed in a classic gown that buttoned tight to her throat. Her whole physique said classy to me. She shone with her own unique radiance.

"Yes, Horace, ward," she replied smoothly.

The girl named Emma pinched her face. "I don't believe you!" I could tell right away that she was rebellious.

"Miss Bloom!" barked the woman. "Do not make me lose myself in front of the newest."

Emma curbed her tongue. I smoothed the front of my dress. I also tried to fix my hair.

"Miss Stonington. I have been expecting you," said the woman, "Please excuse the children, they can be a bit unruly sometimes."

"That's quite alright," I replied. "Are you Alma?" I asked.

The children gasped.

The woman hardened. "Alma LeFay Peregrine at your service," she introduced herself. "But you may call me 'Headmistress Peregrine', or simply, 'Headmistress'."

I nodded. "Yes, Headmistress Peregrine."

She stuck her nose up, not in a snottily way, but in an authorative way. She took a moment to glance at the children, then, turned her glance to me. "Well, don't just stand there, children. Say hello," she instructed.

Horace stepped up to me. "Why, hello, Miss Stonington, I am Horace Somnusson." He bowed. "My apologies for my former behavior."

"Hello, Horace," I greeted him. "I rather enjoy your waistcoat. It looks nice on you." I was speaking the truth. I had never seen such a young boy dress so stylishly. His manner of speech surprised me as well.

Horace beamed at me, and fiddled with his tie.

The young girl who was on my back was a pretty. She had beautiful golden curls and doe eyes. "I'm Claire Densmore," she whispered shyly.

I giggled. "Well, hello, Miss Claire. My sister's name is Claire."

"Really?" Claire asked.

"Really. You're much prettier than she is."

She smiled and giggled.

I glanced at Headmistress Peregrine, she looked pleased. She turned to Emma, who looked mighty skeptical of me.

"Miss Bloom," warned Miss Peregrine.

Emma scoffed. "She's full of piss and wind," she said, before she turned and went to storm away.

Miss Peregrine looked angered. "Miss Bloom! What have I told you about using those derogatory terms in my presence? You shall be punished in the time to come."

Emma wasn't listening. She ignored Miss Peregrine and made her way to the house. "Yeah, yeah, you old Bird!" she hissed, before she entered the house and slammed the door loudly. I didn't recall ever seeing a young girl talk so maliciously toward and adult.

Miss Peregrine scoffed angrily. She then sighed. "Please excuse Miss Bloom; she can be quite a handful. It looks like you've arrived right on time. I was beginning to go mad without a change of scenery. Come, come, we must discuss. We shall converse in my drawing room." She stepped to my side and gently nudged my shoulder, a signal for me to move. I bent down to get my bags. "No, no," chirped Miss Peregrine. "Horace, be a dear and retrieve Miss Stonington's bags for her?"

"Yes, Headmistress," replied Horace.

As we entered the house, I found several more children staring at me. I had not yet been introduced to them.

Miss Peregrine led me into an elegantly decorated drawing room, with a settee, two Victorian armchairs and what looked like a bookcase of photo albums. I felt as if I had taken a step through time. Miss Peregrine took a seat in one of the chairs and asked me to take a seat. Horace followed us in and set my bags by the doors.

"Thank you, Horace," I said sweetly.

"It was not an issue. Headmistress, would you care for some tea?"

Miss Peregrine smiled. "Why that'll be fine, thank you, Horace. Miss Stonington? Some tea?" she asked.

I beamed. Tea! "I'd love some."

Horace nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly as he did.

Miss Peregrine straightened in her chair. "Now, Miss Stonington, you are probably wondering why you are here."

I nodded. Although I had met a lot of people today, and had finally arrived at the house Miss Peregrine beckoned me to, I still did not understand. I had not expected to walk into such a grand estate of beauty, either. What I had really expected was some IRS agents or some kind of foreign mafia interrogating me about my father. But Miss Peregrine and her children were a nice surprise.

"Tell me, have you heard of us?" she asked. She pushed her glasses up her nose.

I shook my head, sending black pieces of hair to fly in my face. "I'm afraid not since I received your letter, Headmistress."

"I see. Well, in truth, there are two types of Homo sapiens. The dominant one is the one which occupies the world you have been living in. The other type live their lives in concealment from the eyes of whom would do us fatal harm." Miss Peregrine pursed her lips. I was curious if she thought me dull. "We are beings blessed with advanced gifts. For example, as you saw earlier, Miss Bloom and her ability to summon flames."

I cocked my head to one side. "Those were real flames?"

Miss Peregrine nodded. "Indeed they were. All of my children- including myself- possess a special gift. We are known as 'Peculiars'."

Horace strode back into the drawing room, a silver platter with a kettle and two teacups upon it in his hands. He gracefully placed it on a small table next to the settee. He handed Miss Peregrine and I each a cup, and served us. He completed by bowing before he silently evaded the room.

Miss Peregrine sipped her tea.

"Does this mean that I am Peculiar in some form, Headmistress?" I asked. I took a sip of my tea. My, it was delicious. It was much better than the boxed tea I bought in a grocery store.

Being Peculiar sounded wonderful. Perhaps I was Peculiar and I really wasn't my parent's child. After all, both my mother and Claire had blonde hair and my father had brown, and I had been born with striking black hair.

"You must be," replied Miss Peregrine. "Or you would have never gotten here."

In truth, I didn't feel Peculiar. I acted it, for sure, but I felt like a regular person. I held my tea still, and I looked down at my black Victorian high-top boots. They looked almost exact to Miss Peregrine's. I guess that when the Victorian Trading Company claimed to be authentic with their fashion, they weren't kidding. I admired Miss Peregrine- and her sense of style- already. It was as if I had known her my whole life, but that couldn't be, for we had just met. Come to think of it, as I looked closely at Miss Peregrine's gown, everyone here dressed like that. I looked down at my dress, it didn't quite fit in. However, I did have a black, lacey Victorian style dress in my suitcase that would make look as if I lived at Miss Peregrine's too.

"If you don't mind me asking, Headmistress, what makes you Peculiar?" I asked softly, attempting not to put too much curiosity into the question. I sipped my tea again.

She chuckled. "Surely you'd know. It's very unlikely for a Peregrine falcon to be so close to being in contact with humans, let alone in one of their windowsills."

I raised my brows. Miss Peregrine was the bird I had photographed yesterday. How peculiar! A peregrine falcon; Miss Peregrine, it all made perfect sense now! I felt like laughing hysterically but suppressed the urge. I kept my posture straight and my attention on Miss Peregrine.

"When Emma called you a 'bird,' I thought it was in jest," I explained to her. "Now I realize that it wasn't."

She looked as if a heavy emotional weight had been dropped on her suddenly. "Ah, yes, the traditional 'bird' moniker. I ask you to never use it. In truth, I find it offensive. It makes me feel… well, old. It's much too late to ask the children to resist using it."

Miss Peregrine sighed, and glanced at a grand grandfather clock that I had just now noticed. "Oh, heavens!" she squeaked. "Is it that hour already? You must excuse me, Miss Stonington, but I'm afraid that I must prepare supper. I'll have Horace show you to your quarters." She rose slowly, and began walking toward the door.

I quickly shot up from my seat. "But, Headmistress-,"

"Yes?" She paused at the door.

"What is it that makes me Peculiar?" I asked.

Miss Peregrine smirked over her shoulder at me in an odd fashion. "We shall see," was all she replied.