"Are you sure this is the way, Millard?"

The six of them travelled carefully, with Jacob and Emma right behind Millard who led them, compass in hand. Having not thought of bringing along a Map, they could only rely on Millard's memory as they headed to the North Coast, and the whole time Jacob couldn't help but be on high alert. He hasn't had the need to be so alert for any stirring of his gut Feeling for a few years, and everyone's nerves were running on high. Having been years since they last fought a wight or a hollow, no one was very confident they could still do it. And considering how they've lived the past few years in relative ease, it was both nerve-wracking yet familiar to be back in the time where peculiars ran in fright, haunted by their greatest enemies.

"Do you have any better idea?" The invisible boy shot back at Enoch, tone suggesting brimming anger. All of them were high strung, stirred by both anxiousness and weariness since they've been walking for hours. By now the sun was high in the sky, telling them all it was noon. But it wasn't till Emma noticed Horace lagging behind did she call a halt, and all of them fell gratefully on their bottoms, each finding either a rock or a tree to lean on.

"You guys drive a hard bargain don't you." Imogen commented with a tired laugh, grabbing one of the bottles she had kept in her backpack and taking a grateful swig. Her dark hair had long been tied up in a ponytail, face flushed with exertion and a smile adorning it when Jacob passed her a sandwich Emma had made for everyone that morning before they set off.

"We had to get used to it back then. We always had a time limit. First it was Miss 'Peregrine'," Jacob inserted inverted commas, to which Emma rolled her eyes and Horace groaned at the memory of them hauling a Caul in disguise around. "And then we had to rescue these guys and we didn't want to leave them in the fortress for too long." Jacob nudged the two boys and grinned at them.

Horace laughed, and even Enoch gave a snigger, but only Millard noticed the shudder that passed through Imogen when Jacob mentioned Caul's fortress where he held his prisoners. They freed a lot of them that day, but the bunch of them had been held hostage by Miss Peregrine to tend to their own wounds that none of them had a chance to take a look at the rescued prisoners. While Millard was horrified to even entertain the idea, he couldn't help but wonder as he looked at her subdued face… was she there?

Before he had a chance to ask her though, Emma stirred them up to continue again, hoping that they could get nearer to the coast before nightfall. They didn't manage to go ten steps though, when Jacob suddenly froze, his face knitting together in a face that Emma startled at. "Jacob?"

"Run."

Apparently, when Jacob said to run, you run. Almost immediately, Emma grabbed Horace and Enoch, hustling them towards the denser part of the forest they were trudging too. Imogen frowned, a little confused by the action when a hand suddenly grabbed her, yanking her along despite there not being a person there. "Millard?"

Imogen asked in surprise after a minute. But wasn't he wearing his clothes just a moment ago? "I shed my clothes. Hurry!"

"Why?"

"Remember Jacob's power? It's obsolete back in the Home, but in 1940 hollows and wights are still around. We haven't collapsed the Abaton yet, so when he says run, it means run. Hurry!"

Catching the urgency in his words, Imogen did as she was told, occasionally tripping over roots and fallen trunks as they made their way deeper into the woods, the lighting getting dimmer until Emma and Jacob finally drew to a stop. All of their breaths were labored and heavy, waiting in silence until Jacob spoke up to break their tense silence. "I think it's further from here. It didn't know we were here, so we got away… sort of."

"Hollow or wight?"

"Wight, I think. But don't be too comfortable even if it's a hollow."

"Why would we be comfortable if it's a hollow?" Imogen asked, completely aghast. Next to her, Millard spoke as he buttoned up the shirt he had haphazardly shoved into his bag when he shed his clothes, Imogen flushing as she watched the limbless movement of the invisible boy. "Because Jacob can control hollowgasts. Or speak to them, make them do his bidding, whatever you call them."

"I used to. It's been years, so I don't know how to even start doing it now." Jacob cautioned, before he fell heavily to the ground, tossing his bag to a side. "Any idea where we should go now, Mill?"

"Thanks to our mindless running, I'm going to need awhile to get my bearings right again."

"You boys alright?" Emma asked, to find Horace and Enoch leaning against each other, sweaty and breathless, not arguing for once. Imogen didn't know if she should smile or laugh at them, for as much as they argued with each other, they clung to each other for protection, all of them did. Their wordless response was good enough for Emma, who announced she was going to scout where they were, stating they might as well remain here for a little while Millard and her figured out what to do next.

Pulling out her sketch book from her satchel, Imogen eventually settled down against a boulder, pulling out the pencil and placed the tip against the paper. Soon enough, the girl found herself lost in her drawing that she didn't even notice until Millard was leaning over her shoulder (well, to be more accurate, a body pressed against her shoulder and a scarf floated next to her eyes), did the girl realized who was next to her.

"So what did you and Emma talk about?" She asked, a little surprised at how comfortable she felt even with Millard at such a close proximity to her. She felt more then saw him shrug, and plucked her sketchbook out of her hands. "Not much. We're going to have to find our way back to the main lane again, which she said we'll do once Horace wakes up and Enoch finishes glaring at all of us. What is this?"

"It's my old house. Miss Avocet's loop in Derbyshire, actually."

"It had so many rooms?" Millard stared, aghast at the sketch. He couldn't help but compare their own loop to the house in Imogen's drawing, and how it would look like a cottage next to it. "That's not fair. I wonder if Miss Peregrine never thought of remodelling."

Imogen laughed, and again Millard marvelled at the sound, hoping he could do that as often as possible, especially if it chased away the haunted look that had lingered since Jacob mentioned the Abaton and the prison Caul had set up at Devil's Acre. "I don't think that's easily said and done, Mill." Imogen commented, taking back her sketchbook to continue touching up the surrounding area, working on an apple tree. "And you've got to remember, Miss Avocet and Miss Bunting needed a large space, since they had to house ymbryne's in training too."

"Well… you've got a point. But still…. Damn, if we had such a house, the kids probably wouldn't get cabin fever so much."

"Language, Mister Nullings."

This time, it was Millard who glanced at her in amusement, and Imogen could almost feel his look right up her neck as he chuckled, leaning a little against her shoulder. "When did you become such a stickler for language, Miss De Vere?"

"I come from the Regency era, Mill. It's a habit I haven't been able to kick even after 200 odd years."

"How was it like?" Finally, Millard asked out of curiosity. Being an absolute information hog and history buff, Imogen realized she was probably a walking history book for Millard. Her pencil paused at the smoke coming out of the red-bricked house she had sketched, and glanced at the empty space that was Millard's head for a bit. "Well, I was taken by Miss Avocet when I was thirteen, so I don't think I'd be much help… But the Regency era was… for lack of a better word, rigid."

Millard scoffed, trying to hide a laugh which Imogen mirrored with a grin of her own. "Ironic that it's called the Regency, huh?" She laughed a bit, before continuing. "I wasn't allowed out alone until I supposedly had my 'coming out' ball, but usually girls don't get that until they turn seventeen."

"What in bird's name is that?"

"It's like a… an announcement buffet. Where you announce your availability on the marriage mart." Millard's eyes almost bulged at the term. "What?"

"Marriage mart. Girls were born in the Regency era with one aim only - to find a husband." Imogen blanched at it, her eyes clearly showing distaste as she continued. "We're primped and beautified and made to look like dolls, with only one aim to marry, procreate and be nannies to children."

"Did you…?" Millard was almost afraid to ask, his chest hurting at the idea that she actually had someone, even if that person was probably already a skeleton in a grave. But Imogen flashed him a horrified look, and shook her head furiously. "Hell no. Bird's no."

"Your language now, Miss De Vere." Millard teased, but his stance immediately relaxed at her vehement denial. Imogen flushed, and pretended she didn't hear him, returning her gaze to her sketch. "Anyway. I was too young, but I was always… peculiar. I didn't like people, after my sister Charlotte spread rumors about me being weird. I… I didn't know about peculiars back then. I just thought it was horribly amusing that I could bring anything I drew to life. But people in the Regency era are horribly judgemental. Anything that wasn't regular, normal to them, was weird, ostracized. A girl who only wanted to draw and barely talked? Definitely odd."

"Special."

"What?" Imogen paused, staring at the empty space above the bobbing scarf. She could almost feel the warmth rolling off, almost sure that Millard was staring at her. "I won't call it odd. You're most definitely special."

His words caught her off guard, a lump forming and a heat gathering in her cheeks, as Imogen's jaw gaped a little. It was a good thing Emma called them at that time to start going again, because if not, Imogen had no idea how to react. Watching as she quickly stuttered an excuse and grabbed her pencil to head towards where Emma was coaxing Enoch and Horace up, Millard wondered inwardly what did he just do. He promised himself that they would be 'just friends'... but he was beginning to understand what Emma meant when she said that she and Jacob would be more than that, or nothing at all. He had called Emma silly to deny Jacob even basic friendship when he had left the first time… but now, he fully got it.