Artemus could also remember Erin quite well.
It was the cycle of the fifth moon, the winter thaw was running late but the rainy season was right on schedule. Most of the streets were little more than knee deep slushy swamps of ice cold water and filth. The air was still cool for the season and the sky dark with clouds brimming with rain.
Artemus caught sight of her trying to pick a locked safe in some store while he was out doing some menial task.
At first, he thought Garrett had escaped again, the young lad had been getting frustratingly good at slipping out of the Haven to wreak havoc where he could…
It was only when he stepped into the store that he realized that no, that was not Garrett…
The young girl was half starved and desperate, with dirty skin, greasy, matted hair and little more than rags to cover her bones… A stark, visceral re-imagining of Garrett.
Artemus met her eyes, ash grey rather than burnt russet, before she dipped her hands into the safe, the safe she had successfully opened, grabbed all that she could in her hands and ran from the store, slipping out a low window as the clerk approached Artemus.
From that brief instant of eye contact, Artemus saw that, just like Garrett, that girl was a survivor.
She was long gone by the time Artemus was able to escape from the shop, disappearing into the twilight shadows just as Garrett had all those years ago…
This time however, Artemus went on the hunt.
Garrett had given him an exasperating amount of practice when it came to tracking people and while Artemus was undoubtedly thankful for the skill, he found himself unfortunately good at it.
The Keeper trailed the young girl as best he could in the growing night, following her bare footprints in the muck before they were washed away as an evening storm blew in from across the ocean.
It was still bitterly cold, and she, much like Garrett back then, had little else but rags to guard her.
By the time Artemus drew near the old Mill District, the evening storm had begun in earnest, frigid winds raced through the streets as sleet began to pelt buildings, stone and people alike.
Artemus could only hope the girl had found shelter from the storm as he retreated to the warmth of the Haven.
He strolled through the familiar halls, reported to his superiors, swung by the kitchens for a very late dinner and then returned to his chambers, not at all surprised to find Garrett curled up in his armchair, snuggled into a familiar quilt.
The young boy awoke as Artemus closed the door, the faint 'click' of the latch rousing him from his slumber.
Artemus approached his charge, running his fingers through the unruly raven locks once he drew close enough. The room smelled faintly of char, there were dishes in the sink but only a single pan with a suspicious amount of gristle latched onto its base…
"You missed dinner." Garrett mumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "I was waiting for you… But then I got hungry." The young boy yawned from his seat.
"I didn't set anything on fire this time." Garrett chimed in a bright, albeit, drowsy voice. Artemus smiled down at his charge, "Did you eat?" He asked in turn, Garrett nodded.
"Did you?" The young boy asked in turn. "Yes." Artemus huffed lightly, "I had some broth from the kitchens before I came, don't worry." Garrett nodded once before he slid from his seat, still cocooned in the quilt.
"I'm going to bed." He announced simply before walking past Artemus, just down the hall, and into Artemus' bedchamber. The Keeper sighed and rolled his eyes.
It had become some sort of routine over the past year and a half. At first Garrett would sneak into Artemus' chambers and sleep on the armchair by the fire. On a whim, Artemus attempted to invite Garrett to his bed again and thereafter, Garrett rarely slept anywhere else.
The young boy had his own room, his own bed, his own everything… But above all else, Garrett preferred to fall asleep nestled into Artemus' side, safe and warm.
Artemus didn't have the heart to send the boy away, especially not after the first time Garrett had drowsily addressed him as, "Papa." One night as Artemus was rising to add another log to the hearth.
Neither questioned the development, nor did they scorn it.
Artemus glanced to the sink briefly before deciding to let Garrett's catastrophe sit overnight. He slipped into his bathing chamber and prepared for bed, drawing himself a warm bath he would have loved to soak in but sadly could not.
Artemus hurriedly changed into his sleepwear as the bath drained, dimming the lights in the bathing chamber as he stepped into his bedroom. The hearth glowed warmly, the fire still strong, the Keeper added half a log to burn through the night before turning to his bed.
Garrett was curled beneath the blankets, quilt circling his shoulders and head beneath the comforter, eyes once again watching his Keeper. Artemus sighed as he tugged down the covers to join his charge, Artemus settled on his side and opened his arm expectantly.
Garrett wordlessly shuffled closer, pressing himself to the heat of his Keepers body, tucking his head to Artemus' throat to mumbled a sleepy soft, "G'night…" Against his Keepers throat before he fell still.
Artemus heaved a breath.
"Good night, Garrett…"
Artemus woke bright and early the next morning to resume his search of the old Mill District.
"Are you off to do important Haven stuff?" Garrett asked as he pulled himself up onto his chair at the small table, watching patiently as his Keeper prepared them breakfast.
"I am." Artemus replied casually, "And I expect you to head to your classes once I'm gone. No shirking just because your missing your books young man."
The storm had faded to rolling fog come morning, bathing the streets in an eerie mist.
The rain had washed the streets, leaving a fresh, smooth tapestry of grime in the gutters.
Most vagrants were roaming so early in the day, but the few who were Artemus found.
Rarely did street urchins wear shoes, why would they? Shoes were expensive, the best an urchin could do for themselves was bind their feet with cloth and while some of the trails leading through the muck were formless cloth prints.
They were not what Artemus was interested in.
The girl from the previous eve was barefoot and young, about the same age as Garrett when Artemus first found him roughly six or so years ago… Her feet were small, just like the rest of her.
The Keeper found hardly a trace of her that day save for a single smear where someone had slipped in the muck while attempting to hop between clear juts of cobble.
She was clever Artemus had to admit. Most streets rats didn't bother to cover their tracks, no point wasting energy on such pointless endeavors…
Unless of course, you were being hunted…
The Keeper continued to scour the Mill District each day for nearly a moon cycle, sometimes he would spend the entire day in the streets, sometimes a few hours.
Garrett called him a hypocrite for shirking his duties while forbidding him from shirking his schooling so they had to compromise.
More and more frequently did Artemus stumble upon traces of the vagrant girl, sometimes even catching glimpses of her ducking into shadowed alleys. He could never catch her, but at least he knew she was firstly alive, and secondly, still in the old Mill District.
The old Mill District wasn't large mind you, it was a strip of land by the mouth of the river, spanning maybe four blocks at most mostly comprising of (surprise, surprise) Mills, bakeries and upstairs apartments.
The old Mill District was prone to flooding however, being so close to the ocean, every thaw and rainy season saw the streets swamped and houses deluged.
It still took most of the growing season before Artemus finally found the girl again.
She was sheltering in some waterlogged basement of an old abandoned flour mill just at the edge of the river… Hidden within the darkness, scampering across crate tops to avoid the icy water below.
She refused to venture out into the street once Artemus found her, snarling like some wild beast when Artemus had attempted to fit through the small ground window to better reach her.
In fact, the first time the Keeper had stumbled across her hiding spot, he had seen her slip through the opening as he rounded the corner, she had forced herself so far into the darkness that Artemus lost sight of her, and remained so perfectly still and silent that, had he not caught sight of her retreat, Artemus would have doubted anyone there.
Still, Artemus refused to simply abandon the child, patience was a virtue, one that Artemus excelled in, much thanks to Garrett.
For many moons, Artemus returned to that flooded basement to stand by that window and speak…
Speaking always seemed to soothe Garrett, gentle tales of folklore and legend to imbued lessons or dull recounts of his day to ease his young charge into slumber.
So he spoke to the girl in the streets as he did to the boy in his home. He spoke of his day, of things he had learned, of life and death and lore, of the sorry state of the City.
He would leave a scrap of food by the entrance of her shelter each time he left and by his return it would be gone.
He hoped it was the girl taking them and not some passer by.