Here's another annoying little talk with the author. Sorry I took so long- 3 months, I think. I've been looking at the views for this story, and I think, if you like the story, you could share with friends? If you may. I'm not going to pry. Well, here's chapter 5, finally here, guys! And thanks to the friend who helped me go on with this story! Oh, yeah, and by the way, I said Mr. Arthu in the second chapter's author's note. Which is kind of bad. Because I wanted a typo-free story. And I had typos. It's like every time I see "Mr. Arthu" I want to run and rock my self to sleep in the corner of shame. I'm serious. Well, Enjoy!

Chapter 5: Fleeting

Arthur stumbled back to the wall of the alleyway. He inhaled sharply and stooped his shoulders. Kids, Arthur thought. Can't they just stay with someone for once? Glory. He managed to pick himself up to continue looking.

Arthur was just a mess. Even if it were only about an hour and a half, he was like a walking ragdoll. His cloak was fading into a drab and unfashionable grey, caused from passing by too many people who couldn't even fathom to buy soap. He was cloaked in a humid air, from the bustling streets of London, somewhat curling the tips of his hair. To avoid unwanted controversy, he slipped into the winding maze of alleys.

Even if I could go through this place a thousand times, I'd never know my way out, Arthur thought. He wiped the sweat from his face to his cloak. Cripes, I could never use this heap of rags even for some washcloth. Truly disgusting, this is.

. . .

"Guardian, sir, don't you think… Mr. Arthur has taken way too long? I mean, we already stopped by the pastry shop, the candy store, the… store… store…? Waah, I don't even know anymore! Can't Mr. Arthur find us already?" Alfred threw his arms up and tucked them behind his back. "Don't ya think you should just find him with your magical powers and stuff?"

"Haah… m' boy, you know how I am, I'm just a beginner with magic among my people, so… that should show that I can't really use magic that well. And can't you wait? Please hold on just a bit longer, Alfred."

"…Aww, but it's been forever …! I don't wanna wait any moooore!" Alfred whined.

"Just please, pretty please, Alfred! It's only been 45 minutes!" The Guardian replied, with a bit of tired in him. "Uhm…or maybe just a bit more," He mumbled quickly.

"But I already feel a beard growing! It'll be all long and fuzzy and white! I can just see it now!"

"Just stay close, Alfred."

"…Okay…."

Oh, this isn't good… I can't just tell Alfred this… but I used up all the energy just to get here… we have to stay in the general area this whole time… it'll take awhile until I can at least try to track Arthur…

The Guardian traced his hand through his hair. He looked down at his hands. Tawny owl's tail feathers, I can't keep this illusion up for long. It's starting to weaken already… He sighed.

The groveman heaved out another long, hollow groan. What would really be the smarter pick…? Staying could aid Arthur in finding them—well, Alfred, at least—and the both of them were already tired. They could rest up and wait for Arthur.

But if the magic were to run out, then everybody would probably be sticking their noses in on everything, with some girl getting all misty and wispy like an autumn morn, and then just going poof. Ah, galloping grasshoppers, Alfred could even be accused of that witchcraft business, even though he was a country. And Alfred would at least attempt to help find the British "gentleman."

And yet—

"HEY, MISTER GUARDIAN SIRRRR!"

"Wha-!"

The Guardian fell over in a heap of surprise.

"A-Alfred!" He scolded.

The boy just let out a laugh, throwing his head to the sky. "Y'know, mister, I think I remember something Arthur told me, now that I think about it."

The Guardian sighed. "And what is it?" He just hoped it wasn't just a little game the child was cooking up from boredom….

"Well…" Alfred locked his hands behind his back and looked to the ground, thinking. "Um… I think it was… hmmm… well, he always told me to stay by the fountain… Yeah!" He chuckled to himself for his ingeniousness.

Why, but of course! The Guardian thought. It IS ingenious… the fountain is at the center of the market! That way, Arthur would surely go back to check the area around the place…! Alfred would be as obvious as the light of a lightning bug! And besides which, it was where Alfred was expected to be when Arthur would go out haggling—ahem—shopping.

The keeper of the forest nodded. "We should head out, then—" The boy grabbed his hand.

"Alrighty, sir! We're off!" And with that, the little lad zoomed off, holding on tightly to the Guardian's hand, but—and I use this term loosely—dragging him like an empty burlap sack. Basically, the poor caretaker was sailing through the air.

"Alfred, slow down!"

"Alfred, can you even hear me?"