Life was not good.
They had trudged in after six that evening, and expectedly took Miss Peregrine's scolding for them with bowed heads. Imogen had been banished to kitchen scrubbing duty for two weeks for ruining dinner, and Miss Peregrine had banned us all from having pudding that night, and instead of letting us have our usual winding down session around the fireplace in the common room, had sent all of us to memorize lines for Shakespeare.
But that wasn't the worst of it all.
The bad news came when they were all woken up by Bronwyn the next morning. The moment Millard opened his eyes and saw the sun well in the sky, he knew that something was off. Their headmistress was usually up by the crack of dawn, and Bronwyn followed soon after to help in preparing the morning meal, and scrubbing the schoolroom for the day's lessons. But the sun being high in the sky meant that it was probably well past mid-morning. Their lessons usually started by 9AM, and with that information popping in his head, Millard jumped out of bed and ran out of his room, as other footsteps running echoed on the floorboards as well.
Millard was knocked into and had to flatten himself against the wall before he realized he had forgotten to throw on any clothes (as he was wont to do, considering how he preferred wandering around without a stitch on anyway), and was almost getting barrelled over before the others realized Millard was around. "You really need to get into the habit of wearing clothes man." Jacob muttered, flinging his robe at Millard before they all gathered around Bronwyn's worried face, accentuated only by her wringing hands. "What's the matter, Wyn? And where's Miss Peregrine?" Olive immediately asked, holding on to Enoch's shoulders as she hovered just above the rest to be able to see.
"That's the thing, Miss Peregrine she- I woke up to help her and- The kitchen wasn't - No one was-"
"Bronwyn, settle down. Nothing will get done if you can't let us know what's going on. First thing first, where's Miss Peregrine?" Emma stepped in, taking the mantle of a leader as easily as it came to her, and chunked down what they needed to know for Bronwyn to be able to answer her. The heavyset girl of seemingly twenty two took a deep breathe, as if calming her frayed senses before speaking up. "Miss Peregrine is inside, but..."
"But?" a chorus of voices started, but Emma hushed them all before giving an encouraging look to Bronwyn again, for her to continue.
"She's... not saying anything, or doing anything or... anything."
"What? What could be the matter?" Jacob muttered, quite taken by surprise, blinking. But it was Imogen who spoke up next, her voice wavering a little with worry, sounding quite small amidst the cluster of peculiar children gathered on the main landing. "Is she warm? Does she breathe?"
Bronwyn nodded at the queries, but was seemingly left speechless for she knew nothing else to add. The peculiar children gave a collective sigh of relief, glad to know that their Miss Peregrine was still alive at the very least. But once that brief period of relief had passed, worried glances were now exchanged among them, as murmurs of 'maybes' and 'what ifs' began to be heard. "Millard, do you know what's going on? Horace?" Emma voiced out when she finally couldn't take all the uncertainty flying around. Horace shook his head, dissapointment clear in the subdued features. "I wish. If I did, you know I would've told everyone by yesterday."
"Millard?"
There was a period of silence, so much so that Claire actually went up to prod the jacket Jacob had tossed at Millard, only to be answered with a swat of his hand, before the invisible peculiar spoke up. "Can I see her?" Bronwyn nodded, jerking her head at the door they all stood crowding around. Emma pushed forward to join Millard, and Jacob brought up the rear as the door closed behind them, and whispers flared up once again, rumors flying as everyone seemed to come up with their own ideas.
"Is Miss Peregrine dying?"
"Hush little magpie, no one is dying. Miss Peregrine is mayhaps just very very tired."
"Is she old? Maybe that's why she's tired?"
"But Miss Peregrine should never get old! She's our ymbrynes! Ymbryne's don't get old do they?"
"Technically, our loop has been destroyed, and we're all aging normally now. Considering we just celebrated Hugh's seventeenth birthday last weekend, what's to say Miss Peregrine isn't frail and old now?"
"Is she sick?"
"I've never seen Miss Peregrine sick before though."
The moment the door opened to reveal the bobbing jacket plus Emma and Jacob, the rest of them quieted down again, as the three peculiars exchanged looks, before Emma addressed them. "Miss Peregrine is sick, we think."
"See, I told you!"
"But Miss Peregrine never get's sick!"
"That was because we were in the loop." Millard cut in, his voice obviously worried with the vibrate of tension in his words. "Now that we're no longer part of a loop, we're as susceptible to illnesses as normals. Miss Peregrine is more so, because she's a ymbryne. She's half a bird, so she contracts diseases harmful to both humans and avians."
"So how do we cure her? Do we bring her to a healer? They'd cure her with those yucky things they make us eat, don't they? Or can we ask Madam Dust?" Olive asked. Jacob shook his head, looking for all the world like he'd rather not be the person to break the news to the young floating peculiar.
"Not entirely. Madam Dust's remedy may not work, for this is an illness,not an injury. And because Miss Peregrine is a peculiar, a regular doctor just wouldn't work. They'd have to be someone who knows how to treat Miss Peregrine's unique genetic DNA."
"I know someone. Heard about him from the Gypsies during the time we were running away. Raid told me about him." Millard referred back to the friendly Gypsies who had helped them, and the friend they had promised to fetch into the loop with them. However, after they had collapsed the loops and ended up in the present year, no one was quite sure how to return to get them. "So where do we find him?" Bronwyn asked in excitement.
"We... don't know." Emma replied.
"But how could you not?"
"Radi told me that he travelled, a lot. He is a syndrigast himself, and he heals. But he hates being tied down to one place."
"That was in 1940, Millard. What makes any of you think he'd still be around?" Enoch snapped at them, putting despair back in their hearts. Emma would have none of it however, and glared at the young boy to back down before addressing the rest of her housemates again. "We'll find a way, somehow. We're going to need the Map of Days again, but we'll definitely help Miss Peregrine get better again."
As the murmur of worry and uncertainty started again, Imogen bit her lip, chewing on it a little before starting forward to reach for Emma. She tugged on the elder girl to get her attention, before speaking up. "I may be able to help."
Her words froze the cluster, and Emma asked in a softer tone, curiosity mingling with uncertainty. "How?"
"Miss Peregrine is still alive? And I would assume you guys remember the gypsy camp from your travels?"
The ones who were present gave a shudder, and Hugh wore a sad expression, but one by one they all nodded. "It might be dangerous, but... I can create a portal for us all to enter that time, so we can find the healer."
"But... That was the most dangerous time of the Great Kidnapping!"
"We could've gotten taken away by wights or hollowgasts at any time!"
"How ironic, that we're going in to save Miss Peregrine again. Must we always return to that time?"
"Not all of us." Imogen piped up. "Only a few, this time. I can't carry too many across. And this time, we'll all be better prepared, wouldn't we? And no one to save except for Miss Peregrine." Imogen paused, and looked at Emma, almost as if asking her to make the decision. And as usual, the natural leader of their crew nodded. "Jacob, Millard, Horace and Enoch, come with us. Hugh and Fiona, we're going to need you to defend our home whilst we're all gone. Bronwyn, please take care of Miss Peregrine and the little ones until we return."
Hugh, Fiona and Bronwyn each gave serious nods, and all of them knew that the other would give their life to keep each other, and their homes safe. But Imogen walked up to the heavier set, matronly girl taking her hand to give it a squeeze. "Protect Miss Peregrine, and protect the easel I'll draw on. It'll be our only way home."
Within the hour, the rest of them have packed everything they hope they would need, as Imogen set up an easel right opposite the window of the sick Bird's bed. The Bird herself was pale, breath shallow with each gasp, and her pallor sickly. Imogen couldn't help the worry that surfaced each time she took a look at her new protector, already quite attached as she was wont to do. How could a day so perfect as yesterday, started off like this today?
Claire's eyes were red as she entered, and Olive looked like she was about to begin at any time. "I can't believe we made her so upset yesterday. And now she's... she's..." Claire pouted, as if she was on the verge of tears again, asking in a wobbly voice "Is it our fault she's this way?"
"Hush little one, it isn't our fault in any way."
"If it's anyone's, it's mine. She headed out to fetch me from Miss Avocet, and she probably caught something on our way back." Imogen announced with what sounded like pain of guilt in her voice. Immediately, clamors of voices denied that statement, but it was Millard's hand that reached for hers, murmuring in her ears "It isn't yours, and I'll hound your nightmares if you ever say that again."
She gave her usual startle, and calmed down when she heard his familiar chortle. "Careful, rabbit. You'll give away that I'm here."
"Go and get dressed Millard Nullings, you're unbecoming." Emma scolded, drawing a laugh from Imogen as the huff of an irate Millard announced his presence, before the door opened, and slammed closed. "Why don't we ask the other ymbryne's?" suddenly, Olive asked hopefully, but Emma gave a woeful shake of her head. "We're no longer in a loop, Olive dear. So we don't have the advantage of time on our side. Plus, all the other ymbryne's are part birds as well, and have as large a chance of catching whatever it is Miss Peregrine has. I'd rather not have all of the ymbryne's falling ill."
"Don't worry, little Olive. I'll make sure they're all fine." Imogen tried to soothe, but by then her mind was focused on her easel. Picking up her wooden palette, the peculiar children watched for the first time, the true extent of Imogen's peculiarity. As she dipped her paintbrush into swirls of color, she glanced over at Miss Peregrine by her side, and then spoke as her brush touched the blank canvas. "Tell me of the time when you guys were with the gypsies, what happened before you met them, and what happened directly after you met them."
The rest standing behind her exchanged confused looks, but blinked, and did as she told. The face Imogen wore while she painted was at the same time one of concentration and yet relaxed simultaneously. She nodded as she listened, biting her lip occasionally as if unsure of which colour to use, before, after an hour or so, she finally stopped. On the canvas, was a iron gate that held caravans behind them, horses scattered as if they were about to flick their tails at any given second. Imogen stared at her masterpiece, blinked, before she lay her palette down and picked up the sleeping ymbryne's hand. "Miss Peregrine, I'm going to need your help for this one." Millard noted how gentle her voice was now, as if calling for help from an old, familiar friend, and Imogen began to trace her painting as she always did.
But instead of pulling something out, this time she waved her hand over and it glowed a bright light. The girl smiled as she turned to see them, and beckoned them over. "Grab your things, let's go." Reaching out, Imogen grabbed the satchel she had packed of her own utensils, and gave one last look over her shoulder at her friends to make sure they were reassured, and reached out to let the glow of the painting absorb her in its essence.
The sudden change of atmosphere, from quiet and solemn to loud, raucuous and noisy was surprising to the peculiars, as they stumbled into each other. It took awhile before the rest of them realized that they had ended up on the night of the festivities that were going on, just after they had visited Radi.
But before they could even register much of what was going on, Millard had to quickly rush forward to grab Imogen as he noticed her swaying. He supported her weight as she fell, and the rest of the peculiars swarmed, cautious only when Imogen mustered the rest of her strength to hush them, and motioned at them to back away. "S-sorry." she chattered, as if the cold was too much for her. Millard, worry evident had his features been visible, brought Imogen towards a shade of a nearby tree, where they quickly wrapped the sweater Bronwyn had insisted they bring, and Millard relinquished his hold to Emma, who ran her warm palms around the younger girl's arms. "I d-don't create p-por-portals very often. I'-ve o-only ever d-d-d-one so one o-other ti-time."
"Hush, don't worry small one." Emma soothed Imogen as best as she could, before unable to help but ask."Would we be changing history in any way?"
"No-not necessarily." Imogen pulled the sweater closer, her face paler than Millard was comfortable with. "As long as we don't meet yourselves in this present time, we're fine. But be careful." At that, Imogen turned to Millard (or the floating neckcloth, plaid shirt and pants that signified Millard's presence anyway), and asked "Do you know enough from what Radi told you the last time?" Millard stared for a minute, before denying it. "Go and seek him after you know your present self has left. We're lucky he can't see you, so he won't realize that you've aged."
"You make me sound old." Millard gently laughed, unable to help but brush his fingers across the knuckles of her hands. Imogen however, barely felt it, as her eyes fluttered closer. "We can't move anywhere tonight anyway, so get the information you need and we'll start tomorrow."
"You go to sleep, Imogen. We'll deal with the rest." Emma hushed, jerking her head for Millard to leave, as she heated up a rock nearby for them to huddle around. The firestarter never imagined to be back here, and the idea of what was going to happen next made her shudder. "Jacob, what if-"
"Don't." Imogen's voice, sharper than before made them all turn to her, where she managed a sharp glare, before her body seem to crumple into itself again. "Please, do... don't try and change history. Let things play out as they will, for if not you will find that you may change history, irreparable damage that may cause the loss of memory, change of personality, things that you cannot change any longer once we return."
"B-"
"Emma, don't argue." Jacob admonished, scowling at his partner as a warning and proceeded to kneel next to the young Imogen. "Don't worry young one. We'll wait till tomorrow morning to do anything."
Satisfied with the answer, Imogen drifted into an uneasy sleep, for she too was highly uneasy. The Great Kidnapping held as many bad memories for her as it did for them, for no peculiar nor ymbryne survived that with no scars. It was just dependent on where someone was stashed away during that time, and Imogen had no wish to revisit her demons.