When Elayra mounted the red shadowmire, the black one moved as if to help its ilk, but Ghent drew its attention. It’s glowing red eyes, the most prominent feature about it in the dimness of the alleyway, narrowed as it growled and hissed at Ghent. It slunk to the side, keeping an eye on him, its too-many fangs bore and strung with saliva. The creature watched him for a short moment, stalking to the side, its body hunched like a predator circling its prey. Its gaze flicked away only once to look to the red one as it made its final buck.
“… You’re not scared, are you?”
The black cat gave another, angered hiss as Ghent’s focus shifted from it to the red one.
Elayra tried to turn her body midair to land on her feet as she had seen Drust do before, but she did not move fast enough. She opted for keeping her head from smacking into the concrete as she skidded over it. The rough stone scraped at her arms through the thinner fabric of the sleeves before she stopped with a groan just inside the ring of light near the sidewalk.
With a gurgling hiss, the red cat turned to face her, its movements jerky, pain and anger making the glow of its eyes intensify.
The delay between her frantic thought to get up and her reluctant body obeying made Elayra’s heart beat faster. Her sword had not provided a quick kill; she could hear the cat shuffling almost drunkenly closer behind her.
The red cat paused for only a moment when Ghent called out to it, one of its pointed ears twitching toward him, but otherwise paid him no mind.
But Ghent had his own shadowmire to deal with. The black cat’s form still scrunched to hide the scaly segments, it took advantage of the boy’s distraction as Elayra managed to flip onto her back and prop herself up to face the beast and battle taking place.
“Ghent! Watch out!” she shouted as the black cat hopped toward him in a zigzag motion, closing the majority of the distance between them before its body sprung forward, stretching out and claws extended toward Ghent.
She did not have time to watch the outcome before the now sluggish red cat stretched its own claws toward her with a ferocious snarl.

That had to hurt. Given the distance between them, Ghent couldn't tell how badly injured Elayra was. The sight of her hitting the ground made him cringe and fear for safety her all at once. Concrete wasn't a joke; he'd wiped out on a skateboard enough times.
Despite his taunts, the shadowmire wasn't interested in Ghent, it was interested in finishing off Elayra.
"Don't you dare, Red!" Being the reckless teenager that he was, Ghent ran towards the shadow responsible. Elayra needed help, and he found himself feeling at least partially responsible for this chaos. They needed Drust. If Ghent hadn't mouthed off, Elayra would have had her guardian. With Drust's skill, the shadows would likely be dead.
Ghent couldn't balance his attention between the two monsters, and that proved a mistake. As soon as Elayra gave the warning, he turned sharply, only to be met with the sight of the shadowmire weaving towards him at an alarmingly fast rate. Dodging wasn't possible, fighting was. Acting on impulse alone, Ghent lashed out with the dagger, swinging the weapon across to hit the shadowmire as it lunged for him. If Ghent was to be mauled, he wanted to score a hit for his trouble.

Gritting her teeth and hoping Ghent would dodge fast enough, Elayra rolled out of the way of the red cat’s strike. Its claws scraped against the concrete with an unnerving, grinding screech where she had just been, leaving deep marks in the man-made stone.
The glow in its eyes flickered.
Yes! “What’s wrong, little kitty?” she taunted, emboldened by the sign of fading life. “I’m surprised you haven’t already been beaten by a mouse!”
With a wavering hiss, it moved to strike at her again.
Elayra pulled her legs toward her, rolled to her hands and knees out of the beast’s reach, and got shakily to her feet despite her protesting muscles.
Meanwhile, before claws met boy, a glint of silver flashed in the dim light. The long blade of Drust’s katana propelled through the shadowmire’s scaly side and furry chest. The momentum of the attack threw the beast slightly off course, but not enough to prevent its weight from crashing with Ghent should he not manage to move out of the way, his dagger adding to the creature’s fatal wound. The moment it fell with a heavy thud, the glow of its eyes extinguished.
Drust ran toward Ghent and the cat from near the doors into the bookstore’s storage room, looking no worse for wear. Reaching Ghent, should he still reside beneath the beast and not have managed to already pull himself out, Drust used a foot to lever some of the cat’s weight off him.
“No sleeping on the job, boy!” Drust growled with a twitch, reaching down to pull Ghent free with a glance to Elayra and the red shadowmire.
When the red cat’s claws dug again into the concrete, missing their target for the second time, its head collapsed behind its outstretched paw, followed by the rest of its body like a dying wave. The glow of its eyes flickered a couple times, then went out, leaving only an empty, dull crimson gaze covered with a milky film.
With a wickedly satisfied grin, Elayra looked to Ghent, and gave a relieved sigh as she watched Drust yank his sword from the dead animal. With sluggish movements, she went to retrieve her saber. She tried to pull it from the cat’s neck with one hand, but gave a frustrated snort when her strength failed her. Using both hands, she managed to pull her blade free, the metal glistening with a coat of an unnaturally brilliant, thick red.
Elayra moved to the wall nearest her companions, and leaned against it, suppressing a groan.
“You alright?” she asked, nodding toward Ghent, and trying to hide the weariness weighing her down. She looked him over for any signs of injury.

"OOF!" Ghent hit the ground hard. The dagger made its mark, but the mark wasn't deep enough, and he knew it. The weight of the shadowmire made moving impossible. Given his circumstances, Ghent could only brace himself and try to prepare for the pain he was sure to come.
Thankfully, such preparations were no longer necessary. One slice of a katana later, the monster was dead.
This should have been a relief, but it wasn't. Being pinned underneath a corpse was far from ideal, and when Ghent saw that Drust was the one responsible for delivering the fatal blow to the shadowmire, he drew in a sharp, panicked breath. They hadn't exactly parted on good terms back at the Book Barn.
Heartbeat pounding in his ears, Ghent made a frantic attempt to shove the bloodied shadowmire off in order to free himself. No luck. Blackie must have been snacking.
"H-hey man," Ghent mustered a nervous laugh. Drust was about ten times scarier from this angle, though his eyes seemed less consumed with the Curse than before. Now to his feet, Ghent swallowed hard and nodded his thanks for the assist. At least the madman's anger had been redirected for the time. "Long time no see."
Ghent was glad to see Elayra on her feet too, though she seemed fatigued. How long should she keep this up?
Knees weak from the fright of the situation, Ghent hung back as the two recovered their weaponry. After an awkward pause, he followed by example and decided to retrieve the dagger lent to him.
With reluctance, Ghent braced his foot on the corpse's head and pulled on the hilt of the blade. The weapon came out easier than he anticipated, and he was thrown off balance. One stumble later, he steadied himself by correcting his footwork. Today just wasn't his day.
Flustered, Ghent offered the weapon back to Elayra. "Aside from the fact that I was just attacked by a demonic panther on steroids...yeah, just peachy." Remarkably, he'd made it out unscathed. Drust proved to be a guardian after all.
The same couldn't be said for both of them; Elayra had faced the stronger of the two. Ghent's eyes landed towards the tear in her dress, and he frowned in concern. "Did that thing get you?" The street lamp offered some light, but not enough for him to tell if the shadowmire had been successful in drawing blood.

Drust snorted at Ghent’s comment, but said nothing before turning his attention to scanning the alleyway, his katana gripped in both hands.
Elayra smirked at Ghent’s question and took her dagger. “Your roads did more damage than those pathetic excuses for scouts.” She wiped the sinuous blade clean on the skirts of her dress before placing it back in its sheath.
She looked to Drust as the man turned in a slow circle, still on guard, and her expression fell. “How many?”
“Five, including these two,” Drust growled.
Elayra inhaled sharply and pushed from the wall, her blade held at the ready, if not lower than she would have liked. “Where’s the sixth?”
As if in answer to the question, a last shadow, smaller than the others they had seen, flitted into the light of the street. It pooled there for a short moment, swirling mockingly as Drust rushed toward it, then darted off and disappeared beyond the other side of the street faster than any of them could follow.
“No, no, no!” Elayra called after the shadow. She tried to follow Drust in pursuit, but her legs threatened to give out, making her knees bend as she reached to steady herself once more on the alleyway wall. They had had enough of running for one day.
At the curb, Drust snarled and swung his katana angrily at the air, the shadow now long gone.
“Drust!” Elayra looked up to him, the sound of his name making him turn his head toward her. “It’s gone. There’s nothing we can do.”
Drust snarled. He looked back to the opposite side of the street, his chest heaving with a deep breath. He spun around, and huffed forward, making Elayra raise her sword. “We need to go. Now.”
“I know," she said as softly as she could, positive she would be little match against him now if he snapped again. “But it’s been a long day. Whether you feel it or not, we need rest. Otherwise, we won’t be capable of holding our own if the Queen sends anything after us now.” She eyed him warily, the effects of the Curse pulsating with more potency than she had seen it in years. “Would you grab my pack?”
Drust glared at her.
“Please.” She glanced toward Ghent. “I’d like a moment with him without our lives being threatened.”
Drust’s head bent slightly and he gripped the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing. He gave a motion somewhere between a twitch and a nod, and hurried off toward the store room.
Elayra exhaled, glad that enough of his raging emotions had been worked off on the shadowmire for him to regain some control. She turned to face Ghent.
Should he speak, she raised her stained sword to try silencing him.
“First off,” she took a slow step toward him, her gaze and tone hard, “we don’t control the portal. Once it’s open, it’s open. With the gate in the state it’s in, anyone with enough willpower could get to them. Including her shadowmire.
“Secondly,” her chin raised slightly and countenance grew more severe, “if you value your life—or at least not being in pain—you do not want to antagonize Drust. He’s used to me, and I know how far he’ll go with me when the Curse flairs up. But you?” She snorted. “You’re a new component. A new stressor for the Curse in him to feed on. I have no way of knowing if he’d be capable of stopping himself before killing you. And trust me when I say an entire litter of shadowmire would be easier to take down on your own than him. Get them angry, and they lose their senses. But with Drust, it’s not uncommon for him to become more tactful. Your best hope is to try to remind him of who he is or talk down whatever triggered the Curse, and just fend him off, not strengthen the fire with insults and rushing in for the attack. Do you understand?”

Ghent didn't quite follow the next series of events. Wasn't it a good thing that the shadow was running from them rather than after them? Apparently not, because the tension became high, similar to when they'd been in the storage room. Unlike the before, Ghent didn't mouth off.
Shifting his weight to his other foot, Ghent kept a mental count of how many times Drust twitched. Did he twitch all the time? Or did he only twitch when angered? If the latter, this could be a way read the knight in order to get an idea of his temperament. Then again, maybe Drust was always angry. Ghent had known him for the better part of two hours, and he couldn't begin to envision the man in good spirits.
Privately amazed by the man's condition, Ghent kept his trap shut. Voicing any questions or concerns wouldn't have been wise, and he'd made himself look like enough of an idiot for one day.
The topic changed, and Ghent wanted to sink into the concrete when Elayra requested the chance to speak with him. Hopefully a lecture wasn't coming.
The blond knew him well enough to raise a sword to ward off any comments that would have come, and Ghent eyed the weapon with reluctance. Blood from the shadowmire brought color to the steel and took color from his face.
First off.
Ghent inwardly cringed. Any discussion beginning with 'first off' was a telltale sign of something bad. It didn't matter if this came from a teacher, parent, or a princess. 'First off' was never promising.
Arms folded, Ghent listened, feeling similar to a child in the principal's office. "Oh, so I'm a component now?" He wasn't sure how to feel about this. Aside from his mother and Mrs. Saxon, Ghent had never been so put in his place by a female before. "I thought I had twenty-four hours to decide!"
More than ever before, Ghent saw that their worlds were too different. Accepting this was accepting a death sentence. He wasn't good enough to take down a single shadowmire, much less a sorceress. If by some miracle Ghent had magic, he already doubted his abilities.
Frustrated by his own failures, he used the back of his hand to push the sword away if he could. "I'll help you and Drust while you're here...but until then...I'll save you some time. I'm no longer interested." Ghent brushed past her, his intentions to retrieve his phone and check the room for any damages.
"If you want a hero, ask my old man." Bitterness laced the words, though this wasn't directed at Elayra. Ghent found himself feeling angry at the father he'd no recollection of. "Apparently he's really something."

Elayra sighed heavily at Ghent’s apparent disdain at being called a component and lowered her sword. “We’re all components in a grander picture, Ghent. You, me, Drust… You’re just a new one being added to ours, and vice versa. What kind of results that’ll have isn’t predictable. Nothing from today has been.” She ran a stressed hand through her hair as she looked to the ground.
“I know we told you that you had that long. But…” She glanced behind her to the street where the last shadowmire had disappeared. As she turned her attention back to Ghent, the corpses began to dissolve into a black, red, and gray mist. It swirled upward in a glittering spiral, then dispersed like a firework before disappearing, leaving only a dark stain where the black cat had fallen.
“Those things are basically her spies. They heard us, Ghent. They know who you are, that you’re alive, and have a good enough idea about me. We killed most of them,” a grin pulled at the corner of her lips, before slipping away as she continued, “but one of them got away. It’d be unwise to wait that long now.”
“I’m no longer interested.”
“What?” she breathed, dumbfounded, as Ghent brushed past her. “Ask your…” She spun and stepped toward him to grip his arm, so easily forgetting he knew nothing about the events of Wonderland. “Ghent.” She took a deep breath, unsure how to tell him about Hatter. “When the Sorceress attacked Heart Castle, Hatter wouldn’t abandon the White Queen. They were both too loyal to the duty to do everything in their power to stop her.” She hesitated. Her expression hardened and her own hatred and bitterness for the Sorceress shone through her gray eyes. “That night, only three people escaped the siege. The lucky ones, like my mother, were killed. The rest, including your father, are suffering a far worse fate. Your ‘old man’ needs a hero just as much as our worlds do.”

Ghent's bitterness faded and he was left with an odd feeling of guilt. Up until now, he'd come to the conclusion that his father hadn't cared enough to come or even search for him.
"So...he didn't just dump me off with you two." The taller of the two was humbled into silence, his gaze lowering towards the ground as Elayra spoke about the people who had died, and the people who remained. Hatter wasn't the only one Ghent had misjudged. Elayra had been misjudged as well.
"That's rough...I'm sorry," he apologized, feeling sympathy towards her. With a fuller explanation regarding the reality behind Wonderland's downfall, Ghent could see the bigger picture. He'd gotten off easy: he got to grow up with two parents, Elayra lost hers. Elayra had been trapped in a world so nightmarish that he could barely envision such a place to be real.
After a long, heavy pause, he sighed in defeat and lifted his head to resume eye contact. "Alright...we can forget about the twenty-four hours."
In his heart, Ghent knew that going home wasn't possible. If he had a target on his back, he couldn't risk his parents being caught in the crossfire. The longer the trio remained in the city, the more the world was put at risk. There was no choice left, he had to go.
"My mind's made up...I'll come with you. I owe you guys that much." Ghent didn't believe himself a hero, but he could not turn a blind eye to what he'd learned. Aside from the risks involved in staying, he felt obligated to help. Wonderland was a part of him, and they were desperate enough to need him. Things must have been really bad.

Elayra blinked at Ghent as he looked away, realizing what he had thought. Her chin raised slightly, and she took her hand from his shoulder, letting it rest at her side.
She snorted at his apology. “I don’t need your pity," she snapped. "It is what it is. I tell you only to make my point.”
When silence fell thickly between them, she glanced down to her sword. She was quite a capable fighter, but even a band of the most skilled warriors were nothing against an army with access to magic. Without Ghent, even as untrained as he may be, the little hope that the Sorceress might be brought down would die with the rest of Wonderland.
Elayra’s grip on her sword tightened; even if she could no longer convince Ghent to help, she would still try, no matter what that might mean. Of that, there was no doubt. She moved to clean the shadowmire’s blood from its blade, her expression filled with determination and indignation.
“Alright…”
She stopped mid swipe.
“What?” she looked up at Ghent, a hint of suspicion flashing over her face at his sudden change of mind, wondering if he was playing some sort of cruel joke.
“And I was worried you had no sense of duty,” Drust intoned from a couple yards away, his face as unreadable as ever and eyes difficult to make out in the shadows crowding the alleyway. He held Elayra’s pack in one hand, and Ghent’s phone and her bow in the other. “With the shadowmire gone,” his voice darkened slightly with a scowl, and his head twitched, “we need to leave.”
“I doubt it’ll get to her in time to send anything else before tomorrow morning.” She frowned as her stomach growled softly. “We still need rest,” she added cautiously when his eyes narrowed. “And food.”
He paused, the silence unnerving.
“Fine.” The word came as clipped as the nod he gave. “We leave at first light.” Drust stepped forward and tossed her pack to her.
She caught it, trying to suppress a sigh of relief, but her entire body heaved with it. She slung the pack over her shoulders, then took her bow, which she used like a walking stick.
Drust turned to Ghent. “You know this city.” He offered Ghent the phone. “Where can we find shelter for the night?”
“Anywhere abandoned will do,” Elayra added, just in case.

“I don’t need your pity."
This was not at all the reaction Ghent had expected. There was no winning with this girl. Rather than risk further confrontation, Ghent didn't respond. With this glimpse into Elayra's past, he could start to better understand where her stubborn, prideful-to-a-fault attitude stemmed from. Losing a parent would have been the worst kind of pain, and she'd shouldered that loss for most of her life. Drust must have been the closest thing to a 'parent' as Elayra had. Considering how unstable the guy was, Elayra turned out well, if not hotheaded and impossible.
While the two decided their next course of action, Ghent decided that he had to survive two separate components: the dangers of Wonderland, and his comrades. When it came to Drust, the less said, the better. Ghent wasn't fond of agreeing for the sake of appeasing, but when it came to Drust he'd have to, or risk his blade. Elayra was a little more complicated; reading her was difficult, and Ghent wondered how many eggshells he'd have to step around before breaking them. The Wonderlanders were starting to make Mrs. Saxon seem easy to deal with.
Ghent was in his own world until the pack was tossed. The action snapped him out of his mental planning, and he was thankful to have caught the last bits of dialog as he pocketed his phone. "Food...and shelter. Right." Food shouldn't have been a problem; thanks to William, they had plenty of cash. Finding shelter was going to take some planning.
"Shelter's no problem. I know plenty of places." What a lie. "Follow me."
Feigning his confidence, Ghent lead them out of the alley, all while inwardly panicking. Hopefully he could come up with a place nearby; if he was tired, he couldn't imagine how they felt.
After a few yards, Ghent slowed to meet Elayra's pace and nodded towards her pack. "Hey, um...want me to take any of that? Looks kind of heavy. Uh..." He stopped, wondering if he'd unintentionally offend her by the offer. If his pity hadn't been wanted, he doubted his assist would have been accepted either. "Not that I don't think you're capable. I just don't see the point in you carrying all of that by yourself."

Elayra’s brows rose when Ghent’s focus returned to the conversation at hand, the first words out of his mouth still weighed by his distraction.
[b]“Follow me.”[b]
Elayra nodded, then obeyed, walking beside and slightly behind him as he headed for the main road. She continued to use the bow as a short walking stick, trying to use it to ease some of her weight from her feet while making the action look as normal as possible.
With Drust taking up the rear, she paused at the pool of light on the sidewalk and scanned the opposite side of the street as if the shadowmire may have chosen to stay after all, then hurried to catch up with Ghent.
The two Wonderlanders cast frequent glances about them, Drust’s head twitching toward any sudden sound or movement. As they passed the front of the bookstore, Elayra’s gaze lingered on the familiar storefront and "Hava Java” in the building beside it. Her brows furrowed slightly, and she glanced back toward where the shadowmire had disappeared; if the portal they had dropped through had been so close, which one had the beasts come through?
“Hey, um…”
“Hmm?” Elayra asked absently, turning her gaze toward Ghent, strands of her platinum hair brushing against her face. When he finished, she gave a light exhale through her nose and shook her head. “The point is to pull our own weight. You’ll be carrying one of your own soon enough, I trust. But… thanks,” she added more as an awkward afterthought.
With how wishy-washy he seemed to be on the matter, the last thing she wanted was to risk pushing him once more to choose to stay here once they returned to Wonderland. But, if he had a family here, she supposed she could not blame him for having divided loyalties. Her expression hardened, and she turned her head, busying herself once more with scanning the opposite side of the street.
"If you don't hunt," she cast him a glance, "how do you procure your food here? Have you some sort of functional market?" She had heard stories about such things once occurring within the bounds of Wonderland. Perhaps Earth still had such a practice. "Or was that what you wanted the cat for?" Her demeanor perked up slightly at the thought.

"Fair enough. 'Course, I don't have any weight to pull right now...so if you change your mind, let me know." Ghent was mildly relieved she hadn't taken his offer the wrong way. Elayra's stubbornness surpassed even his own, and he had an inkling she was constantly making it a point to prove herself capable. The conversation switched to food, and Ghent couldn't help but remember there was a pizza joint two blocks down.
"Pro...what? What's a procure? Is that some sort of weapon?" Poor Ghent. Elayra's dialog was more advanced; he could have benefited from reading less comic books and more of the dictionary. The sidewalk he lead them down should have been familiar to all present. Intentionally, he was leading them back towards the park.
"Or was that what you wanted the cat for?"
"Are you actually suggesting that I'd eat William?" Ghent wasn't sure whether to be offended or to laugh. "I'd rather eat dirt! When it comes to food, everyone goes to Walmart. It's...like a giant marketplace, but all in one building. They sell everything, and a lot of the people there wear pajamas and crocs."
Ghent looked their clothes over, judging for himself whether or not their attire would have been appropriate. "No one would bat an eye if they saw you wearing that Middle Earth garb. Walmart's free game."
Another police siren went off in the far distance, followed by a barking dog. Their weaponry came to Ghent's mind, and he purposely cut through another alleyway in order to stay off the sidewalk as much as possible. "Oh, and no one hunts in the city. You'd get toted off to jail. Better keep that in mind -- I don't think two hundred dollars would be enough for your bail."

“Don’t worry,” Elayra began with a soft snort, “I won’t change my mind.”
She looked at Ghent sideways when he asked about ‘procure,’ wondering if he was mocking her own questions, or if it was genuine.
“It’s not a thing,” Drust answered gruffly, but not entirely unkindly, deciding Elayra’s debate for her. “It means to obtain something. With effort.”
“Are you actually suggesting that I’d eat William?”
“If William’s the cat,” Elayra looked to him with an annoyed expression, “then I’m suggesting you’d do what’s needed to survive. And if not for food, what’s their purpose here? Spies? Helpers? You seemed rather determined to catch that one.”
Her head cocked slightly at the explanation of Walmart, and blinked in surprise at people wearing ‘crocs.’
“Crocs? People here wear crocodiles?” She tried to imagine the gnarly, scaly creatures in Wonderland by the same name being worn to a marketplace. Her brows rose as he continued, looking both her and Drust over. “‘Middle Earth garb?’”
She sighed as he finished, ‘dollars’ and ‘bail’ going over her head, but she understood enough of it, and was growing quickly tired of asking about the things of this world, a world she would likely never see again, anyway. So, instead of inquiring further, she only gave a quick nod.
“Poaching was once outlawed in the bounds of Wonderland cities as well,” Drust muttered almost absently as they traversed yet another alleyway. He paused at the opening of it, his head tilting toward the distant sound of the unfamiliar siren before he continued after Ghent and Elayra.

"Oh." Ghent should have felt stupid, but he didn't. Elayra had asked her fair share of questions, why shouldn't he?
"Yeah, William is the cat. I only caught him so I'd get paid.” The irritation practically radiated off of the princess, though Ghent failed to see how this could be helped. As it was, he was on his best behavior. At least Drust seemed less angry than usual.
"Here on Earth, cats are kept as pets. They don't do anything. They're pretty dumb, actually."
“People here wear crocodiles?”
The question was absurd, yet completely serious. It took a fair share of restraint for Ghent to refrain from laughing. Speaking with someone so new to the modern world was proving difficult; there were so many phrases and references the Wonderlanders would never understand. If a conversation was to be carried on, Ghent realized he’d need to either rephrase things or better explain himself.
"Ah…no. Crocs are shoes with holes in them. Mrs. Saxon -- she's a friend of my mom -- she has a purse made from an alligator, though. Cost her a pretty penny.” Ghent found himself already breaking his new rule, so he was quick to elaborate.
"A ‘penny’ is a coin. A ‘purse’ is a...tote bag? Or...a satchel. Wonderland’s got satchels, right?” This worse than trying to communicate with a foreign exchange student.
"That's too bad about the poaching." Ghent liked it when Drust spoke up, grumbles or not. He wanted to get as much information as he could; there was plenty swirling through his mind. So many questions yet to be answered.
"Aside from markets...I'm assuming you guys have to scavenge for food and hunt off the land, right? That’s cool.” Ghent answered the question himself, then looked back to the two with growing curiosity. “Who does the cooking?"
The park was as they'd left it. Abandoned, wet, and quiet. Keeping a steady pace, Ghent lead them past the playground and down a dirt path. The path guided them away from the street and towards a few small clusters of trees. Eventually, the path wore out, though it was no longer needed. Towards the right, there stood a small, worn shack with two small windows on either side. The only means of entry was provided by a door with carved graffiti on it. Ghent walked around the shack once, then gave a nod as if satisfied with his choice. Four walls, a roof, and very much away from the general public. This would have to do.
"Well, what do you think?"

“Pets?” Elarya looked at Ghent with surprise, then smirked. “Serves them right.” It was, at least, a relief to know they were little more than that here.
She gave a heavy sigh when he began to explain what a purse and ‘pretty penny’ was.
“Wonderland's got satchels, right?”
“It’s even got purses.” She smirked at him. "And that phrase. Wonderland wasn’t always cut off from other worlds. The penny's the lowest of our currencies. Well, when it actually mattered. Has been for... three hundred years?” She glanced to Drust, who gave her a jerky nod in confirmation. “I’ve heard stories of a group of world-jumpers that would come and go as they pleased. If Earth has them, it wouldn't surprise me if it got it from us.”
“The jumpers usually kept to themselves.” Drust turned his gaze forward, his view relatively unobstructed even by the taller of his two wards. “But they did like telling stories. Whether they should have been telling them or not.”
When he asked about how they gathered food, Elayra opened her mouth to answer, but Ghent answered his own question.
“The royal city still has a fairly effective market.” Drust’s expression and tone darkened at the thought, and his neck twitched, “but even that’s to be avoided by any who managed to avoid the Curse. Unless you wish to lose your head. Or worse.”
“Who does the cooking?”
Elayra raised an eyebrow at the odd question, but shrugged. “Whoever gets to it first.”
The trio entered the familiar park, even passing by the playground where they had met. Instead of keeping to the main road, Drust and Elayra followed Ghent down another, narrow trail. Near the end of it, brushed by only ghosts of the lights from the street, sat a dilapidated shack.
As Ghent circled the Shelter, Elayra cautiously went to one of the windows as Drust circled it in the opposite direction as Ghent, a hand ready to draw his katana should the need arise. Elayra, one hand resting on the hilt of her saber, used part of her sleeve to wipe away the grime covering one of the windows, and tried to peer inside, but it was either blocked, or too dark inside to see beyond her own reflection.
She moved from the window as she heard the men complete their circle of the place. “I can’t tell if there’s anything in there.”
Drust frowned. “There’s only one other way to find out, then, isn't there?”
Elayra looked to Ghent as he spoke, Drust’s gaze never leaving the front of the shack.
“Not the most fortified structure,” Drust stepped to the door as Elayra drew her sword, just in case, “but it’ll do.” He drew his own weapon, then turned and tried pulling and pushing on the handle. Regrettably for the door, it was locked. He spared the hinges a quick glance to make sure they opened inward, then quickly solved the minor dilemma with a turn and side kick to the lock.
With a rattle that vibrated through the structure and a bit of splintering wood from the door frame, the door burst open, hitting the wall beside it. Drust hurriedly stepped back, his sword held as defensively as Elayra’s in both hands, but nothing moved to attack from inside. The dim light of the night settled only a foot over the smoothed, cement floor, allowing them to only make out a few dark shapes hanging on the wall furthest from them.
After a short moment of silence and the swaying movement of settling dust, Drust lowered his sword, his head twitching again.
“Don’t suppose you’d happen to have a torch or something on you, would you?” Elayra glanced to Ghent.

"Guess Wonderland isn't as medieval as I thought." Ghent silently marveled at the mention of world jumpers. If world jumping continued to exist, that could be his ticket home.
"Hey...you know, that might explain why Wonderland exists in this world. Here, it's nothing more than a book for kids." Ghent didn't bother mentioning Disney's adaption of the novel. Explaining crocs was one thing, explaining a movie was another.
"Got any jumpers named Alice?"
After the shack had been investigated from the outside, Ghent deemed the structure decent enough for hiding out in. Very few traveled this way, even less at night. Unless more shadowmire's decided to pay them a visit, they would be safe until morning.
"I'm sure I can pick the lock easily enou--" Ghent's voice faltered as Drust made short work of the door.
"Or...that works too."
At the mention of a torch, Ghent smirked lightly. Wonderland may have had pennies and purses, but it definitely lacked flashlights.
"As cool as that'd be, I don't." He grabbed his phone, sliding the screen over for the flashlight feature. The light was enough to grant them full visual of their new quarters. The shack was a little less than the size of a one car garage; other than a few tools and a riding mower, it was vacant and with plenty of open floor space for the trio.
"Back when the park was a big deal, the city used to store a lot of supplies in here. I got hired to clean it once." Ghent rubbed the back of his neck out of nervous habit, unsure where to go from there.
"So...I guess all that leaves is food. Fastest thing I can think of is pizza or hamburgers. You guys allergic to anything?"

“We’re aware of that factitious tale,” Drust scoffed at the mention of Alice in Wonderland. “Over a century ago, Alyce Heart, the then heir to Wonderland, paid Earth a visit. And thus, that piece of so-called ‘literature’ was born.”
When Ghent pulled out his phone, Elayra could not help but step a bit closer to him, trying to see what he was doing to make the screen light up. She blinked in the white light that erupted from its back. The light startled Drust into spinning around, and Elayra instinctively raised her sword, ready to counter him, but he blinked in the light, cast a quick, final glance around, then sheathed his sword with a satisfying shing-click.
He entered the storage shed, having to duck to avoid hitting his head or the katana’s hilt on the head jamb.
For a moment, his body blocked the light before he stood to the side toward one wall similar to a garage door chained tightly shut from the inside.
Since he had the light, Elayra nodded for Ghent to enter before her, then followed him inside as she sheathed her own blade. Though it no longer latched, she closed the door behind them, then looked around at the various equipment, some she recognized to some extent and others quite foreign. Spiderwebs clung to all but a few of the items and caked the corners. Some of the arachnids cowered away from the light while flies and other small insects struggled against the webs.
With a quiet, heavy sigh, Elayra deposited her pack once more on the floor by the bare garage door. She sat, her hand sliding down the shaft of her bow with the action, thankful for the chance to rest and hoping that, this time, it would last.
“You guys allergic to anything?”
Elayra gave Ghent a tight-lipped grin. “Does—”
Sensing a snarky comment, Drust caught her attention and glared darkly at her, his neck twitching.
Elayra closed her mouth, her expression tense. “No,” she answered instead.
“It’s impossible to say here.” Drust turned his normally veined gaze to Ghent. “But don’t worry about that.” He slowly removed his own pack and tossed it so it landed beside Elayra’s.
“Whatever you can scrounge up will be fine. Trust me.” Elayra’s gaze lingered on Drust, watching him carefully.

Ghent blinked as Elayra started in with what may have been a sarcastic remark. Drust had prevented her from commenting, which was a bit of a shame. Ghent was now left to wonder what she may have said.
"Well, alright. Just to be safe, I won't order anything too crazy." Their body language made him uneasy. Both were tense, on edge. If the wrong thing was said or done, he feared the consequences. Neither struck him as levelheaded.
"Closest food joint is only a block or two away. I'll run." Ghent was fast, but a car or faster means of transport would have been handy.
Despite his unvoiced concerns, Ghent started to turn towards the doorway when a realization hit him. The light was leaving too, he hadn't the heart to abandon them in such a place without any source of light.
"Here. You can keep the phone for now," he handed their makeshift flashlight over to Elayra, taking care that the light was aimed away from her so he wouldn't accidentally blind her with it.
"Um..." There was an awkward pause as Ghent looked between the pair.
"You two aren't going to fight or anything while I'm gone, right? You're just gonna relax? I don't want any swords being drawn while I'm running errands."
Was this what it was like being a parent? If so, Ghent wanted no part of that. This was nerve wracking. "I'm serious. No fighting," he folded his arms across his chest, trying to look as if he meant business. 'If you're going to argue, at least wait till I'm back. Got it?"

Elayra only half listened when Ghent responded, her attention on Drust. Some stress had been worked out on the shadowmire, forcing the Curse back into its normal dominance, but even she was feeling the weight of everything. She could only begin to imagine what kind of war was waging in Drust’s head right now.
As if in response to her thoughts, Drust’s neck twitched.
She shook her head slightly, trying to dispel the thought. Now was not the time for focusing on everything. All she had to worry about at the moment was making sure to not set him off. Her muscles ached, ready for a good night’s rest, warning her that they would be of little use against him if the Curse overpowered him.
“There's no need to run.” Elayra stretched her arms out over her head, just the thought of running, even if done by someone else, an exhausting one.
Drust turned, examining the room once more, his eyes lingering on every shadow.
Elayra sat forward when Ghent offered her the phone, the shifting light causing the shadows to shy away from it. “Thank you. But are you sure? What if someone else tries to contact you while you’re gone? We could wait outside until you return.”
When he began to sound more like an overly protective mother scolding her children, the same scowling annoyance crossed both her and Drust's face.
“Know. Your. Place, boy,” Drust snarled, the lines on his skin pulsating slightly.
“We’re not lost children, Ghent,” Elayra spat, glancing to Drust to make sure he was still in control. “We don’t need you to play mother hen. We’ve survived long before you were in the picture, and we’ll continue to do so with you in it.” She took a slow, deep breath, not looking away from Ghent.
“If you’re sure you don’t need your device,” she indicated his phone by tapping its back, her voice stiff, “I’d suggest you get going." She place the phone on the floor, the light shining up. "But take this.” She forced herself to stand, then unhooked her dagger from her belt. She handed it, sheath and all, to Ghent. “Be prepared for anything.”
“And always expect the worst,” Drust added, finishing their familiar mantra in his gruff, cold tone.

The room may have been dim, but the look of annoyance was clear as day. For the second time that evening, Ghent had managed to tick off both at the same time. This was becoming something of a habit, one that was dangerous to partake in.
Know. Your. Place, boy.
Ghent felt goosebumps rise up underneath his sleeves. Did this guy ever have anything to say that wasn't a warning or a threat?
"I was only trying to--" at first, he made a weak attempt to defend himself, but Elayra spoke as well.
"Mother hen?" Ghent unfolded his arms, aghast at her choice of words. In all his life, no one had ever referred to him as such. This was not the image he'd been going for.
"No, I don't need the phone. As I've said, you can keep it. Until I get back." Ghent sounded miffed, he accepted the dagger with one hand, then brought the weapon to his side as his eyes narrowed towards Drust.
"Yeah, well," Ghent tried to think of a comeback. A witty, clipped remark he could make before fleeing the scene. Unfortunately for him, his mind drew a blank.
"You expect the worst too." Not quite the burn he'd been going for. Without further ado, Ghent turned on his heel, leaving before he said something he would most likely regret.
Outside, Ghent shut the door and stalked away from their current headquarters.
"Would serve them right if I didn't come back." Muttering underneath his breath, Ghent looked the dagger over, tempted to leave it in fear of someone calling the police.
The shadows from nearby trees influenced his decision: Ghent would sooner face the police than face a shadowmire unarmed. After a bit of trouble, he succeeded in hiding the entire dagger within the sleeve of his hoodie. Wearing hoodies a size too large was paying off.
Rather than marvel over the fact that he was carrying a concealed weapon, Ghent broke into a run. The sooner he got back, the better. The shadowmire's were too fresh in memory.