From W. Y. Traveller: Ashes

RL interfered, so quite a bit less editing than usual. Sorry in advance for typos.

"There you are."

Another pair of hands reached around his shaking ones to steady the large board they currently used as a door. The relief in those words made Arthur glance over his shoulder.

"Thought we'd have to start looking for you," George answered the wordless question. "You're the last one in. Everything alright?"

He nodded, not quite willing to try talking through the tremors already chattering his teeth. He was fine—just cold. That surprise storm had ruined his chances of finding a Christmas treat, and only a desire to be home had kept him trudging toward the courtyard instead of breaking into one of Mr. Holmes' boltholes. He hated when the weather changed without warning.

"You need to get warm."

Jackson ducked beneath a blanket as he hurried to meet Arthur's stumbling steps across the cobblestones. Warmer than the windy alleys did not make the courtyard warm, and the combined heat of Jackson and George flanking him barely touched the chill that had settled in his core hours ago. He nearly dove into the closest blanket fort.

"Arthur?"

Doris' question provided the only warning before she grabbed him in the half light. Murmured complaints noted his cold hands, then rapid movements nestled him in the middle of a pile of warm bodies. A spare blanket draped over his shoulders.

"Did you get too cold?"

He shook his head, pulling the blanket slightly tighter as he did so. Jackson's frown almost matched the doctor's when something called him to the courtyard, but Arthur was fine. His shivering would stop in a minute.

Or more than a minute, if he lost the accumulated warmth. Loud footsteps approached the main door, then a boot kicked the wood in a makeshift knock.

"You kids alright in this storm?"

"Mr. Hobbs!" Doris lunged out of their fort, letting in another blast of cold as she rushed for the archway. Arthur huddled further between Jackson and George. She could handle the unexpected company. He wanted to get warm.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Hobbs!" Wood dragged against cobblestone to signal his entrance. "We're alright. Just a bit cold. We can probably rearrange a blanket fort to let you fit."

"And a Merry Christmas to you as well." Arthur did not need to look to hear the smile in his tone. Low rustling suggested Mr. Hobbs carried an armload of something. "No on the blanket fort, but thank you. I thought you might want a Yule fire. That one window opens, and I have a stack of boxes and pallets around the corner. A cleared patch of cobblestones could make a nice, warm courtyard for a few hours."

Jackson and George both tensed on either side of him.

"Yes, please!"

Arthur jumped, then breathed a laugh at Jackson's answering squeeze. He had not expected the older boy to join the conversation through the fabric.

"Anyone not shivering or trying to warm someone who is," Jackson continued, pitching his words loud enough for the entire courtyard to hear, "go help. Find a fort if you start shivering."

Over a dozen voices rose in some variation of "That's me" to make Mr. Hobbs' booming laugh echo off the brick. Something clattered to the ground just inside the door, and he led laughing, stomping, warmer kids back into the alley.

Arthur pulled his blanket over his ears. Even the rest of the courtyard was far too cold. Better to stay in the slight warmth of their fort.

"Arthur?"

Provided Jackson did not need to leave. A moment's adjustment found a way to look up without dropping his blanket. "What is it?"

Jackson frowned at him. "Are you falling asleep?"

No. He shook his head and burrowed to eliminate another draft. "Just warm. Warmer," he corrected. The occasional shiver meant he did not qualify as warm. That would take a bit longer.

Though not as long as without a fire. Less than five minutes saw the others returning, and heavy breathing joined the thump of wood hitting cobblestone. Another few seconds opened the window to let the smoke out, then one of the older boys started the smallest popping blaze in the first box.

"Anyone found any scrap metal we can use as a poker?"

"Check my cubby!" George called from Arthur's left. "I found a small piece yesterday."

"Thanks!"

Rustling dug through one of the wall's many holes, then clanging joined the grunting, dragging, and puffing of feeding the slowly growing flame. Only when popping approached crackling did the low murmurs of concentration become a single, louder call.

"We have heat!"

"Go on." Jackson nudged his shoulder. "You're not warm yet," he added when Arthur would have waited another minute. "Even a small fire will be better than a pile of blankets."

A faint harrumph escaped, but he pulled himself upright when both Jackson and George made to stand. The abrupt change in temperature made him hurry to the fire's edge.

Where his front was warmer. His back cooled before he could situate his blanket, but huddling almost over the flames gradually decreased the renewed shivering as the others carefully piled more and more boxes. Only when they had established a steady fire did they start adding wood, and the increased heat finally stopped the painful shaking. He breathed a relieved sigh. Much better.

"Thank you for the fire, Mr. Hobbs!"

Mr. Hobbs waved away the thanks—and its many repetitions—from his place just inside the door. A glance scanned Arthur and the few others that risked burning themselves before one hand tossed a small bag to where Jimmy stood only a few feet away.

"Think that's enough to go around?"

Jimmy frowned. Uncertain movements opened the bag, but confusion rapidly flipped to amazement.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"What do you think it is?" Mr. Hobbs returned, grinning.

Jimmy glanced between him and the bag once, then twice, apparently speechless. Doris' patience eventually ran out. She nearly grabbed the bag from Jimmy's hand.

"Marshmallows!"

"And some chocolate," Mr. Hobbs agreed. "There should be one for everyone."

Doris let out a whoop. Quickly claiming her own share, she passed the bag around the courtyard until even Arthur had one soft marshmallow and a small piece of chocolate, then they took turns holding the marshmallow over the flames with a long stick someone had rescued from the burn pile. When his turn came, Arthur warmed his just enough to have a gooey center, then blew the floating ash away from his chocolate to stuff the piece into the marshmallow's middle. The result melted the chocolate to turn the entire thing into a sticky, sugary, delicious mess.

He may not have found the Christmas treat he had been craving this morning, but a toasted marshmallow more than made up for a long walk through the cold to sleep here tonight instead of a bolthole. Maybe Mr. Hobbs would tell him where to find those so he could have another one next year.

Hope you enjoyed :)

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