“[i]Pets?[/i]” 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.
	[b]“Wonderland's got satchels, right?”[/b]
	“It’s even got purses.” She smirked at him. "And that phrase. Wonderland wasn’t [i]always[/i] 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.”
	[b]“Who does the cooking?”[/b]
	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.