The sky began to clear of the thick grey smoke, and the sun finally shone down on the land below, making the ruins glitter and sparkle. The place looked strangely attractive despite its gloomy and dreadful appearance, almost like treasure at the bottom of an ocean surrounded by wreckage that looked so devastating it could hardly be believed the shimmering glow was coming from there. It almost seemed that there could be some hope left after the devastating effects of the war. Knowing Marceline, this would be something she would cling to closely; young children have always kept their hopes up, because they know that it will always go the way they want it to, even if they have to wait many centuries for that one thing to happen.
Simon had found some clothes in a nearby building, and handed Marceline a thick warm jacket; two sizes too big of course, and a large brimmed hat that would block out the sunlight and protect Marceline's delicate skin from burning. Simon searched around further and found them some extra blankets and a large discarded camping bag a little way down the deserted street, which contained some tins of peaches. Finding a shady spot near some rubble, they sat down to eat.
"I've never eaten peaches before, Mr. Simon" mumbled Marceline through mouthfuls of peach slices. "They taste fantabadoosie!"
"They were always a favorite of mine back when I was your age."
"How do they get them in the little tins though?"
"Ah, now that's a secret only the people who make them know."
They both giggled and finished off their peaches. It was getting on for sunset, so they needed to find somewhere to shelter for the night. Marceline started to yawn, and complained of her tired legs from the long walk they had made since they left the abandoned warehouse, so Simon had to carry her most of the way; due to her size, she was light to carry, so this proved no problem despite the large camping bag dragging down on his back.
After an hour climbing over fallen trees, ducking underneath a collapsed bridge and avoided a swarm of angry insects that had somehow survived the damage, they eventually reached an old house and climbed in through a pair of cellar doors around the side. It seemed that the previous owners of the house had long left before the war, so the cellar was empty, albeit a few spider webs that had been immaculately spun in between the wooden beams that held up the ceiling. It was bitterly cold, but at least it was somewhere secure for Marceline to sleep in. The next morning they would make for the next journey for the city, so they needed all the rest they could get; the cellar would at least allow for uninterrupted sleep. Simon took the blankets he found out of the camping bag and placed one underneath Marceline and another over her. It wasn't much improvement to the cold hard floor, but at least it was warmer. He looked through the bag and found two small pillows, and placed one under Marcy's head. As for himself, he slept in his own clothing for he decided that Marceline was much more important than himself. She has many years ahead of her yet, he thought to himself. She needs to survive and be well, even in this dark time. He rested his head on the pillow and went to sleep.
Marceline grew restless. She spent hours tossing and turning, thinking of her mother, wishing she was by her side holding her closely. She was suddenly in the deserted street again, the emerald sky glaring down on the demolished buildings, plumes of smoke growing bigger and bigger as they lifted into the sky. There was that figure again, standing in front of her. Its empty eyes were staring right at her, making her lifeless once more. Marceline fought against the sensation she felt, and slowly dragged her lead-like feet toward a safer place; somewhere she could hide and wait for the figure to leave. The figure lifted a bony arm; draped with some form of strange cloth, like nothing she had ever seen before. It pointed a finger at the frightened child and slowly spoke in a deep scratchy voice.
Marceline It voice sounded like a hundred nightmares suffocating her. Come to me, Marceline.
"No. NO" She tried to turn away from the figure but it was as if she was frozen in place. She tried to move her legs, but they disobeyed her. Slowly, the figure pulled Marceline toward it, like an invisible rope wrapped around her. This is it, she thought. There was a sudden light, and then a sudden sensation of being shaken violently.
She awoke to find Simon kneeling over her, his face full of worry.
"It's alright, little Marcy. You were screaming for such a long time, I thought you were in pain". He placed the back of his hand over her forehead. She has a slight fever, he thought to himself.
"I had a dream, Mr. Simon." She said quietly. She sat up right; tears were beginning to appear down her face. Simon wiped them away and gave her a comforting hug. He felt icy cold, but she didn't mind.
Why don't you tell me all about the dream and maybe I can help somehow. You'll feel better if you do."
"Ok, Mr. Simon. But I'm scared that it will happen again and this time he will get me."
"Nonsense, Little Marcy. If he tries to get you again, just imagine me fighting it and keeping it away."
There they sat for a long time, and she told Simon all about her dream. She described the figure and how it tried to take her away with it.
"Its eyes were the scariest part. They would look at me and make me feel really cold, and then I couldn't move until it started pulling me toward it. I thought it was real, Mr. Simon"
"Hmm" Simon sat and thought about everything she said for some time, before saying, "I think I may have seen that figure before." He pulled out a tattered old book and opened it to a page covered in scribbles.
"I think what you may have seen, little Marcy," He looked at her carefully "Was the Lich."