When Ghent looked to him, dagger now in hand, Drust cocked his head slightly and returned his gaze with an icy stare, almost daring him to try something with his new weapon.
Though Elayra’s mouth remained a tight line and her gray gaze bore into Ghent, the moment the door shut behind him, she let out an exasperated breath, ran a hand through her hair, and leaned against the garage wall behind her.
Drust snorted, and turned from both her and the door, his arms crossing over his chest. His long shadow sliced the room at an angle before merging with the darkness lingering on the opposite side of the small room.
“If he doesn’t get us killed,” Elayra grumbled, quickly undoing her sword belt and dropping her sword and quiver so they leaned against their packs, “one of us is going to kill him.” She slid back to the floor to relieve her legs of the burden of her weight.
Drust made a sound somewhere between a snort and a growl. “We’re all dead without his help.” His voice sounded dismal, lifeless. “I’ve said it before. You need—”
“Magic to stop magic. I know. But there’s got to be another way. We both knew there was a chance we wouldn’t be going back with him, and even your backup plans have backups.”
“But we found him. Alive. And he’s agreed to help. Any such plans I had are unnecessary.” His words came out short and clipped, his body little more than a statue with its back toward Elayra.
Part of her knew she should leave it at that, should back off before she set him off, but another part of wanted to at least have her point out in the open.
“We don’t know how long we’ll have before either the Sorceress finds us, or we find her.” She drew her feet toward her chest, her ripped, muddied dress draped over her knees. “Ghent’s untrained. Clumsy. He scarcely even knows how to use his fists. He’s spent his entire life here, and from what I can tell of the place, it’s the complete opposite of Wonderland. Even if the three of us do get safely back home tomorrow, I’d be surprised if he survived the—”
Drust spun around, making her reach for her sword. “We’ll. Make. It. Work, Elayra.” His neck twitched and his hands clenched and released, but he remained where he was, the diseased colors of his eyes throbbing menacingly.
Elayra swallowed and bent her head. Knowing it would do her little good at the moment, anyway, she forced her hand from her sword’s hilt and raised her palm beside her in surrender. On a good day, she knew she could hold her own against him—at least, for a time—but she also knew her limits, and she had reached them long ago. Her legs scarcely wanted to hold her up, her arms ached and stung from her collision with the concrete, and the spot where Drust had kicked her still felt a bit tender.
“Okay, Drust,” she said softly. “We’ll make it work.”
A conflicted expression flashed over his face as he looked down at her.
Elayra took a slow breath, then closed her eyes and leaned her head against strange metal. Her eyes shot open when she heard Drust take a step toward her. She watched him warily as he closed the distance between them, unbuckled his katana from his back, and sat down on the opposite side of their packs. He leaned the sword beside him, and crossed his legs, his head angled toward the door.
She gave a quiet sigh of relief, then moved the phone so its light illuminated them a bit better. Carefully, she rolled down her right sleeve to check the damage, a couple splotches of red soaking into the fabric.
As she had thought, a long, nasty-looking scrape marred the side of her forearm, interrupting the line of a faded scar. The worst of it glistened crimson, and a smaller one near her elbow beaded with blood droplets.
Drust looked to her with only his eyes, then turned and opened his pack as she rolled up her other sleeve.
Her left arm had only a patch of inflamed, ruffed-up skin. She frowned at the minor irritation they presented, then looked to Drust as he removed a fair sized wooden box from his pack and handed it to her without a word. The dark wood had scars of its own, and looked burnt in places.
Elayra placed the box on the floor near the phone, and pried the tight-fitting lid off the first-aid kit.
“Are you okay?” Drust asked in his usual flat tone, resuming his previous, unmoving position, watching the door. His eyes shifted only once to Elayra.
She responded with a sharp nod. “Are you?” Her tone matched his.
He snorted lightly. “One can only hope so.”

With Drust and Elayra at their current HQ, Ghent felt vulnerable. A shadowmire could lurk in the comforts of any shadow; it wouldn't have been at all difficult to hide and spring a surprise attack. As an added precaution, Ghent practiced drawing the dagger from his sleeve a few times. The motion was sloppy, yet quick enough to work. Right now, that's all that mattered.
Ghent ran most of the way downtown until a sharp stitch in his side forced him to slow. Experiencing pain in the area was a reminder of his aching rib cage; Drust had landed a powerful blow back at the shop.
The memory of his newly appointed guardian was enough to make Ghent grimace. At this rate, they would never get along. Elayra was no better; she would not accept help, she would not accept sympathy...she barely seemed to accept him.
If what Elayra said was true, they had been friends at one time. That would not happen again. How could they ever hope to be? Ghent didn't belong, he couldn't relate to them. Not in the slightest. The past was too far gone and the future looked dim.
One thought morphed into the other. It wasn't long before Ghent started to wonder about his father again. Hatter, as he'd been called. Ghent could scarcely imagine who he was, what he was like, or what had become of him. What fate could be worse than death? No one had mentioned his mother yet. Ghent's heart sank at the thought; she may have died along with Elayra's kin.
Brows knit in contemplation, Ghent was beginning to see how lucky he'd been to live on Earth. If Elayra had gone through the portal first, he would have been stuck in Wonderland with Drust for all these years. Things may have been very, very different.
The realization was a sobering one. For much of his life, Ghent believed himself rather unfortunate. Right now, he saw that he'd gotten off easily.

---

By the time Ghent made it to Burger King, it was well past normal dinner hours. Aside from a trucker and an older couple, the place was void of diners. This was preferable; there were no lines and there wouldn't be pressure to order quickly. The place smelled strongly of grease and artificial flavoring, a sure indication that the food tasted good.
"Can I take your order?" The blonde at the counter couldn't have been more than two years older than him. Ghent could speak easily enough to adults -- speaking to people within his age group usually made him self-conscious.
Embarrassed, Ghent used his sleeve to clean some dried dirt from his cheek. Why hadn't he thought to clean up sooner? The girl's gaze was penetrating -- he felt as if she could see the dagger underneath his shirt.
"Yeah...sure. I'd like to order...something." As pathetic as it was, Ghent wished his mother were there to order the meal for him.
"Um...three of the largest hamburgers you've got. No onions. Three large fries should work..." Eyes scanning the menu, Ghent kept his arm firmly against his side to keep the dagger in place. "And three chocolate milkshakes. Can I get lids on those? This is to go." Ordering food while hungry was never a good thing; he'd ordered impulsively for everything.
"That will be $28.85." The girl raised an eyebrow as Ghent opened an envelope to retrieve his money. Odd as the boy was, she wasn't overly surprised. Some of the strangest customers came around during the night shift.
After he received his change, Ghent filled up on ketchup and mustard packets while he waited for his order to be filled. One could never have too many of those.
A few minutes later, a group of teenagers arrived, two with skateboards, all wearing beanies. They were talking loudly, goofing around with one another and causing more of a ruckus than necessary. Ghent would have settled for ignoring them, but a backpack the tallest of the males carried with him had caught his eye.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
"Hey guys." Ghent approached them, playing it cool. "Nice backpack."
The male exchanged glances with his squad, then looked back to Ghent, cocking an eyebrow. "Thanks?"
"I know this is out of the blue, but I've been looking for one just like that." Ghent's heart was racing as he spoke. The dagger slipped a little, so he pinched his sleeve closed with a clammy hand. "You know, with skulls all over it."
The teenagers were laughing until Ghent held up a wad of cash.
"Think I could buy it off you?"

---

Despite a broken zipper, the backpack had been a good purchase. There was more than enough room to store the bags of burgers and fries inside. Once those had been stored, Ghent used one hand to carry the bag containing the milkshakes. With the other hand, he carried his own milkshake to sip on the way.
Running was not possible with so much food at risk. Ghent kept a steady pace, keeping alert for any movement along the shops he passed by. Coming back seemed to take less time than setting out. The park was coming into view, and Ghent cut through some of the taller grass in order to reach the shack sooner. If this was to be his last meal on Earth, he wanted that meal to be hot. Nothing was worse than cold fries.
Ghent breathed an overdue sigh of relief when the outline of the shack came into view. The streetlamps didn't reach this far back; it was barely visible and would have been missed completely if one was not familiar with the location.
Remembering how jumpy the Wonderlanders were, Ghent opened the door, then knocked on the wood twice to announce his presence.
"You can put the weapons down. It's just me." Ghent didn't know for sure if they'd drawn them, he was basing this off of past experience with the two.

Drust held his sheathed katana vertically in front of him, its tip against the floor, as Elayra dabbed a couple drops of a milky liquid from the neck of a jar on a cleaner part of her skirts.
She gently ran the damp fabric over the scrapes. Within moments, the worst of them stopped bleeding, leaving red scratches, while the least severe of them all but completely faded. She watched the familiar effects as they finished their job. It had been a while since she had used it on something as simple as a scrape, and had forgotten how quickly it worked on such minor wounds.
“I’ll take first watch,” Drust offered as Elayra replaced the bottle snugly in the box. “Rest, if you wish.”
Elayra gave a thankful nod and pulled her sleeves down back over her arms. “If you’re sure.” She put the lid back on the box and handed it to Drust.
“Quite.” He took the box and returned it to his pack, one hand keeping his sword in place.
“Wake me if you need me. But do me a favor: try not to need me.”
Drust smirked, not looking from the direction of the door as she stretched out so she lay on the floor with her back against the wall. She adjusted the pack beneath her head, and used it as a lumpy pillow.
She gave a content groan about at last being capable of resting her entire body, and closed her eyes. With Drust’s familiar presence beside her in this foreign land, she dared let herself drift off into a sweet, light sleep.
Drust’s gaze shifted from the door to the rusting, neglected equipment hanging from hooks. A few of the spiders had dared return to their webs, one on a rake near him continuing its work of wrapping up a struggling fly. His head turned to Elayra, watching as the rise and fall of her chest quickly took on the steady rhythm of slumber. After a moment, he quietly leaned his sword against the wall beside him, and reached once more into his larger pack, careful to not disturb the sleeping girl.
He removed a rolled-up wad of course fabric, and stood. Letting it unroll, revealing the form of a thick, worn cloak, he draped it over Elayra.
She stirred slightly, but either realized there was no threat and fell back asleep, or did not wake up.
Though it could have been a trick of the light, Drust’s eyes seemed to soften, the black lines growing faintly thinner. But it lasted only a moment. His neck twitched, and he turned from her. Quietly, he strapped his katana to his back, and went outside, closing the door softly behind him.
He blinked slowly in the darkness, his eyes adjusting to the difference in lighting far quicker than average. The cool night air held the familiar crisp, earthy smell of the trees near them, yet the stink of exhaust and other pollutants he did not recognize wrapped around the pleasant scent in a strangling waft.
He scanned the path toward the main road, the artificial lighting illuminating it a good distance from their hideout. Slowly, he drew his weapon as a precautionary measure, and headed around the back, giving the immediate perimeter a good check.
By the time Ghent returned, Drust stood beside the rickety storage shack. Bathed in the shadow cast by the building, he looked like little more than a hidden statue, his hands resting on the end of his Katana and the tip of the blade digging an inch into the dirt at his feet.
His head cocked to the side as the gentle sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears still a good few yards off. Careful to remain just out of sight of whoever—or whatever—approached, he raised his katana, gripping it in both hands, and moved to look toward the sound.
Even from this distance, he recognized Ghent from his form and gait, though it looked like he had since acquired a pack and carried something in either hand.
Drust remained where he was, watching the boy grow nearer. A displeased frown pulled at his face when he went unnoticed by Ghent, the boy's attention apparently locked on the shack.
Inside, Elayra’s eyes snapped open at the squeak of the hinges. In an instant, she reached for and drew her saber, and jumped to her feet. She spared the cloak half a glance when it the floor as Ghent knocked on the door. Blinking as she tried to brush away the cobwebs that had already grown over he mind during her nap, she stood at the ready before she recognized Ghent’s voice.
Slowly, she lowered her sword as he entered, and took in the strange tray he brought with him holding even stranger cups.
Outside, Drust stepped directly behind Ghent. “You’ve failed to check your surroundings, boy,” he began darkly, pressing the tip of his katana against part of Ghent’s back not concealed by the backpack. “Never let your guard down. Especially when you believe safety is near.”
For a moment, Elayra held her breath, worried what he may do to prove the point, but with a swift, impressive movement, Drust sheathed his katana.

“You’ve failed to check your surroundings, boy."
Yelping in surprise, Ghent nearly choked on a sip of milkshake when Drust snuck up on him. Before he might turn, he felt the blade on his back.
To the relief of both teenagers, the madman sheathed his katana rather than drive his point home. Again, Ghent had failed to meet Drust's impossible expectations.
"My guard was up!" Glaring through the darkness, Ghent faced their guardian and came dangerously close to mouthing off further. This could have gotten bad fast, but he shut his trap as Elayra had previously advised. If Drust became angry again, Ghent risked being attacked. Worse than that, he feared their hamburgers being squashed in combat. Drust had all the cards.
Mentally counting back from ten, Ghent stilled his tongue. Getting into a disagreement with Drust wasn't a good idea. Not now, not ever. Rather than pick a fight, he bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to agree.
"I'll have to keep better aware so this does not happen a second time." This bothered Ghent more than it should have. Taking criticism was not something he readily accepted, especially when it came to Drust.
Grumbling underneath his breath, Ghent stalked past him to get indoors. Hopefully the princess was in better spirits.
"Hey Ella. Miss me?" Ghent greeted her as if nothing had happened. If at all possible, he wanted to get on her good side. At least she hadn't jumped out to scare him half to death.
Underneath the display of tools, there was an empty shelf nailed to the wall. Using it as a table, Ghent set his half finished milkshake down, relieved that his first 'mission' was complete.
"Man, this hideout bites." He pulled the cups from the bags, both full and remarkably undisturbed by his journey. "After you guys get a taste of Earth food, you're gonna wish you were world jumpers for the sake of chocolate shakes alone."
Removing his $20 backpack from his shoulders, Ghent retrieved the burgers and fries, each separated by the takeout bags they'd been packed in.
"Any more of those shadow cats show up while I was away?"

“My guard was up!”
Drust snorted at the ignorance of that statement. “Which is why I would have had ample time to run you through a couple times over since you turned your back?” His chin rose slightly, and he looked down his nose at Ghent. His brows raised dubiously at Ghent’s tone of voice when he reluctantly agreed, but only silently followed him inside.
Elayra turned from them to return her sword to its sheath, then laid it back on the floor. She looked to him when he addressed her, raising an eyebrow at his most recent nickname for her. She gave a quiet snort at it, though it was far better than “Blondie.”
“If it makes you feel better, sure,” she grumbled to his question as she picked up Drust’s cloak and began rolling it up.
As Ghent went about setting his improvised table, Drust strode to Elayra and took over folding the cloak up.
She looked to him and gave him a grateful nod both for him letting her use it and taking care of it now, which he returned before Elayra went to investigate what Ghent was up to.
“Man, this hideout bites.”
She paused and cast a quick glance around before she realized he did not mean the statement literally. Though, she was sure a few of the spiders would have been happy to change that if she wished.
“But it’s a hideout, all the same.” She watched Ghent place the cups on the shelf, everything from the cardboard to the opaque lid a new sight for her “If you think this is bad,” she cast a darkly amused grin toward Drust, “you should have seen the place we found in Tulgun’s Marsh.”
Drust scowled at the memory, and shoved the rolled-up cloak none-too-gently into his pack.
Elayra cocked her head when Ghent mentioned “chocolate shakes.” She sniffed at the air when he opened his backpack and the disgustingly delicious smell of fried potatoes and processed meat burst forth. Her eyes followed him curiously as he pulled out three brown bags stamped with an unfamiliar logo from his unusual pack. Her gaze paused for on the skull pattern, momentarily wondering where he had gotten it from, before he asked about the shadow cats.
“Shadowmire,” she corrected him.
“No,” Drust answered flatly, stepping slightly closer to the two, but still keeping his distance.
“If Luck decides to visit,” Elayra began cheerlessly, giving away her doubt at them having such a visitation, “she’ll have sent only that litter here for recon purposes. See what’s become of Earth in the last decade. Make sure it’d be safe to send others of a higher rank.”
“And now she’ll know you’re both alive,” Drust growled, his face twisting angrily and neck twitching.

"It does make me feel better, thanks." Ghent smirked lightly at her response. Poor Elayra seemed a little groggy and forever annoyed with him. At least she hadn't objected too much to the newest nickname.
Hands free at last, Ghent dug through the front pocket of his hoodie, collecting the ketchup and mustard packets. At the mention of Tulgan's Marsh, he raised an eyebrow, half wondering why Elayra hadn't elaborated further. "I'll take your word for it."
While he divided up the meal into separate bags, Ghent noticed Elayra looking at the backpack. With his foot, he turned the pack around so that she might see the impressive display of skulls. "Pretty sweet, huh? I bought it from a guy I saw. Figured I'd need it to lug stuff around."
Turning his attention back to the food, Ghent didn't appear phased when Drust voiced that 'she' knew of them being alive. In his unspoken opinion, she would have found out eventually. With spies like the shadowmires, it was only a matter of time.
"Loving the optimism there, Drust." Ghent passed each a cup, then their own bag. "Well, everything's sorted. Eat up." Finding a place to sit, Ghent started to unwrap his burger and looked up towards them, expecting that they would want a little information in regards to the curious looking meal.
"Alrighty, so this thing wrapped in paper...it's called a hamburger." Explaining something so widely recognized felt bizarre. Wonderland may have had some of the same currency, but their food was completely different.
"These things here...um...well, they're basically chopped up potatoes covered in salt. They're called fries." With the lesson half over, Ghent used his teeth to tear open a packet of ketchup. "Red stuff is ketchup, yellow stuff is mustard. You should put the red one on your fries." The best had been saved for last. Ghent tapped the lid of his cup with his fingers, interested to see what they would think of the strange new foods.
"And this is a milkshake. I have no idea how to explain it. I can promise you'll like it, though. I drank half of mine on the way here."

Elayra raised an eyebrow at Ghent’s adjectival choice for the backpack. “Not quite the word I’d use for it. But it is interesting.” She had never seen a pattern repeated to such perfection before, let alone one consisting of skulls. Even the material of the pack was, in its own right, intriguing.
Drust’s brows rose fractionally when Ghent addressed him.
“Optimism will only bring you severe disappointment,” Elayra interjected, her tone and expression filled with the bitterness of experience, "or get you killed faster."
Her attention shifted to the bag Ghent offered her. Her head cocked slightly, and she took it and the cup. She ran a thumb carefully over the flimsy cardboard. “Your cups here feel like rather impractical,” she commented, her voice filled with fascination rather than criticism.
Drust accepted the items with a jerky nod in thanks.
Elayra followed Ghent’s lead and sat near him. She placed the cup on the floor, then opened the top of the paper bag. She peered inside, then pulled out something wrapped in paper. She turned it over in her hand as Drust once more unstrapped his katana, and sat a bit further away, his wary gaze shifting between the door and the bag of exotic food.
Elayra glanced to Ghent as he began his explanation. Taking note that he had unwrapped his burger, Elayra did the same with hers.
“Hamburger?” She held it at eye-level, examining the meat shoved between the seed-studded buns. The meat glistened with grease and juices in the dim light from the phone. “As in meat from swine? Or is that a word with a different meaning here?”
When he moved on to the milkshakes, both Elayra and Drust glanced toward the cups, tubes sticking out from the lids.
Elayra placed the burger, still mostly wrapped, on her knee, and picked up the milkshake. She closed one eye and looked down through the straw, before deciding to remove the lid. It took her a short moment, but she pulled it off, part of the pleasantly brown milkshake sticking to the lid as she raised it.
Drust took a bite of the hamburger, a hint of thoughtfulness on his otherwise impassive expression as he chewed.
Careful to not spill any, Elayra lifted the cup to her lips, the chill of the drink inside gentle against her hand. When her tongue met the sweet, chocolaty drink, her eyes widened slightly.
“By Absolem!” She cleared her throat once the thick, cold substance slid down it, leaving a sweetness unlike anything she had ever tasted to coat her mouth.
“Ghent.” Drust looked to him. “Our earlier conversation was interrupted. If you have any further questions, now seems the opportune time to ask them.”

Elayra was pointing out things Ghent never bothered to notice. A takeout cup must have looked incredibly strange to her.
"I guess the cups are supposed to be impractical; once you're finished with your drink, you toss it." He bit into his burger, relieved to find that the meat was still perfectly hot. All that running had paid off.
"Nah, there's no swine in this. Only cow. They call it a hamburger because..." Ghent slowed, staring at Elayra in bafflement. Why was it called a hamburger? "Actually...I don't know. Good question."
Following by her example, Ghent removed the lid to his milkshake and stirred the mixture with the straw so that it would be easier to drink. When Elayra took a sip, he watched, amused by her comical reaction.
"It's great, right? Don't drink it too fast -- you'll feel your brain freeze."
When Drust spoke up, Ghent felt his heart sink. For a while, he'd managed to forget their next destination. Wonderland was something he wished they didn't have to discuss; the more he learned, the worse the place sounded.
"Well...I do have a few questions." Ghent's eyes were on his milkshake until he forced himself to make eye contact with the man. He wasn't going to go back on his word, but there was plenty of doubt lingering in his mind.
"What if I can't get the magic to work?" This concerned Ghent the most. If he couldn't use magic, he would be almost completely useless to them. Plenty were counting on him, including his own father. It was a lot of pressure to be under so early on.
"Is there some old, wise magic mentor in Wonderland for me or something?" Skilled as his comrades were, Ghent doubted they would be able to help him much when it came to accessing his hidden abilities.
"Let's say I do find it...how am I supposed to keep magic under control? Are we talking like...elemental magic, or crazy voodoo type stuff? I don't want to kill myself or anyone else by accident, you know?"

Noticing Ghent stirring his milkshake, Elayra used her straw to do the same, only slower, watching the thick, granular substance sticking to the plastic tube sluggishly side off.
Her lips pursed slightly, and she looked to Ghent at his warning. “It’ll do what?”
Drust cocked his head when Ghent paused, Elayra taking in their new companion’s expression before he finally looked away from his milk shake.
Drust’s face impossibly hardened at the first question, and his neck twitched slightly; that was a possibility he had toyed with as well. Ghent’s further questions only served as yet another reminder that he knew as much about Wonderland and its ways as they did about Earth and its customs.
“Elements play a large part in magic, yes” he began with the basics as Elayra traded the cup for the burger and sniffed at it, this lesson one she had long since learned. “For those it favors, it’s not limited to just elemental powers. If you command it with a firm mind and will, it’ll do only what you tell it to. No more. No less.”
“Well, it used to,” Elayra interjected, earning her a glare from Drust that went unnoticed as she picked off part of her burger’s bun. “Nowadays, you’d better either be on the Sorceress’ side, or come from the Spiritayum.”
Drust’s glare darkened at the mention of the Sorceress, and Elayra quickly busied her mouth with biting into the burger that lacked any ham. She played with it in her mouth, trying to think of something to possibly compare it to from her world, while debating whether she found the taste and slight greasy texture delicious or disgusting.
“Alas,” Drust frowned, continuing as if Elayra had not interrupted, “magic isn’t my forte, but I know enough to aid you for now. Hopefully, that will be enough. Those like you and your father have had a powerful connection to magic since the dawn of our world.” His gaze grew distant for a short moment, and the smallest hint of wistfulness dusted his voice as he continued. “Madrail once told me he relies on instinct as much as knowledge. That magic is equal parts servant, friend, and master, yet can just as easily be your enemy.” His eerie gaze refocused on Ghent. “That is your birthright, Ghent. Unlike for the rest of us, magic is just as much a part of you, as you are of it. Find it, nurture it, and it’ll be yours to command. The stronger your connection to it grows, the greater amount of magic you can control.”
Elayra glanced to Drust, noticing he had failed to directly answer Ghent’s first question.
“Does magic work differently here?” she asked. After all, the creation of something such as the milkshake, with its icy yet smooth texture, had to have some sort of magic involved to make.

"It'll only feel like your brain is freezing. We call that an ice-cream headache; it's a headache when you drink something cold too fast." Ghent was beginning to wish he'd ordered a second round of their frozen desserts. This would no doubt be their last taste of ice-cream for a long, long time.
When the topic turned to magic, Ghent remained uncharacteristically silent, paying careful attention to what was said from both parties. This was a lot to take in, but he wasn't surprised by any of the answers he'd received. Ghent hadn't expected the magic to come easily, he'd anticipated it to be a challenge. The fact that he believed himself capable of possessing this type of power was strange in itself; why was he so willing to believe that magic existed? Though their discussion would have sounded insane to most, Ghent believed them. After seeing the shadowmire up close and personal, he was more apt to believe in the impossible.
"I guess I have a lot to live up to." Ghent wasn't sure how to feel about this being his birthright. The possibility of failure worried him. The stakes were so high, and his experience was nonexistent. Unnerved by Drust's gaze, Ghent turned his attention to Elayra. If her show of skill was any example of Drust's tutoring, he believed himself in good hands.
"I can't promise any miracles...but I'll do my best. I don't want to let you guys down." From what little he'd heard of his father, Ghent could tell that he was a force to be reckoned with, or he'd used to be. Hopefully some of that had passed onto him.
Elayra posed a new question, one that Ghent may have found funny if he was not so burdened with his own thoughts.
"Actually...magic doesn't exist here." Ghent reached up to rub the back of his neck, only to be reminded that he still had the dagger stashed away in his sleeve. "We know of magic, but it's only in stories. It isn't real...no one has powers." Ghent set his cup down so that he might remove the dagger from its hiding place. As he handed the weapon back to Elayra, another question came to mind.
"Do I get a katana or something cool like that? I'm pretty skilled with a bow. I took class once." Considering how many shots it had taken him to hit the target, this was a bit of a stretch. "I know I'm supposed to be the mage of our group, but you can never be too prepared."

Elayra snorted, and her expression fell at Ghent’s first comment following his unusual silence. “The greats tend to cast long shadows,” she muttered, her voice tight.
When Ghent declined the existence of magic on Earth, Drust gave a scornful snort, and Elayra smirked.
“Every world has magic,” Elayra interrupted as if that should have been obvious. She gave him a derisive look. “If it didn’t, there wouldn’t have been a portal.”
“If the people of this world haven’t discovered it,” Drust began scornfully, “then they’re either too ignorant to truly seek it, or have been rejected by magic.”
“Case and point…” Elayra sat her burger on her knee once more, took the her dagger from Ghent and placed it on the floor, then rubbed her hands together in front of her, brushing off any remnants of the food.
Drust’s eyes shifted to her, his expression a warning to be careful, as she took a deep breath and held her hand in front of her, palm facing up.
Holding her breath and hoping she would be capable of accessing the world's magic, her gaze grew distant in concentration as she reached out with her mind for the familiar, almost electric feel that surrounded everything in a flow as natural and more invisible than air. She blinked in surprise, and her chin jerked up slightly when it greeted her with a shockingly quick eagerness. Unlike in Wonderland, it had an air of excited youth to it, and came to her like a cautious, yet curious dog sniffing at another dog owner.
“Igniculus,” she whispered, directing the magic both with thought and word. She felt it tingle over her palm before the last syllable left her lips, and a small, perfectly shaped flame lit above the center of her hand. It floated and twitched, occasionally sending small sparks above the tip of the flame like miniature orange and red fireworks. “Extinguo.”
The flame formed a small pillar that spiraled together, then extinguished in another series of harmless sparks.
An excited, disbelieving smile spread over her face, and she looked to Drust. “It’s not blocked here!”
Drust gave a slight nod, but seemed otherwise unsurprised. When Ghent switched the topic to weaponry, his lips quirked up almost approvingly.
Elayra gave him a disbelieving look at him being a good archer.
“I do have a weapon for you,” Drust confirmed, “but it requires a minimal amount of magic to use to its full potential.”
“In the meantime,” Elayra gave him a mischievous smirk as she picked up her burger again, a challenge in her voice, “I’m sure we could find something for you to shoot at. If you can draw back the bow.”

"Well, this one doesn't." Ghent wasn't going to budge. Sure, Drust and Elayra were knowledgeable when it came to Wonderland, but Earth was his turf. "Trust me, if magic existed, someone would've found it by now," using his pointer finger, he poked the raised bumps of the cup lid inwards. This was always satisfying. "We're really advanced."
Even as Elayra pointed out that they wouldn't have had a portal, Ghent narrowed his eyes, taking another bite of his burger. "You put the portal there, you brought the magic here. Earth didn't have it until you came." There was absolutely no proof or sound logic in this, he simply wanted to sound all-knowing when it came to the world he'd grew up on.
"Sorcery doesn't work here. If it did, I'm pretty sure I would have sensed it. It is my birthright, after all."
Elayra was soon to prove her point. When she held out a hand, Ghent looked to it, confused. "What are you..." Before he might finish the question, Elayra uttered a word he didn't recognize. The sight of the flame appearing from nothing was incredible; he was too awestruck to upset.
"Whoa! How did you do that?!" No matter how much he'd been told about magic beforehand, the proof of magic existing amazed him. This something straight out of a video game or a movie, but it was real. Henry would have freaked.
"I do have a weapon for you."
"Hey, really?" Maybe Drust wasn't so bad after all. "What is it?" Ghent was ready to start guessing until Elayra spoke up.
“I’m sure we could find something for you to shoot at. If you can draw back the bow.”
Ghent scowled lightly, realizing he'd said too much. He hadn't much to boast on, so the things he bragged about were either over-exaggerated or partly true. "Oh, and I take it you're already skilled with a bow?" He was in too deep, he couldn't back down now. "We'll see who's the better shot there, Merida. I've got 20/20 vision."
Without bothering to explain Elayra's latest nickname, Ghent took a sip of milkshake through the straw.
"Dunno if you already mentioned this...but are we really the only survivors? Aren't there any other humans that haven't been captured or hit with the Curse?"

Drust scowled and his eyes narrowed at Ghent’s comments against magic on Earth. “With that attitude, boy, it’s no wonder you haven’t found it already.” His attention turned back to Elayra when the flame burst to life, the light glittering in his eyes. “Magic is a proud thing. Believe in it only partially, or think it fake, and it won’t let you find it.”
A proud look crossed Elayra’s face at Ghent’s reaction to her use of magic. The expression turned to an amused haughtiness when he questioned her skills, but that, in turn, shifted into a heated frown at his newest name for her.
“My name is Elayra,” she growled, his reference lost on her. “Not Ella. Not Blondie,” she spat the nickname venomously. “Elayra,” she enunciated each syllable. “And I’ve been doing archery since I could hold a bow.” She looked about ready to get up, grab her bow and arrows, and usher Ghent outside in a fit, but she remained seated on the dirty floor.
Drust’s gaze darkened and his neck twitched at their little spat, before Ghent asked his next question.
Elayra took a cross bite of her burger. Whether or not she decided she liked it, her stomach approved of being fed. She raised her eyebrows when Ghent said, “other humans,” and glanced to Drust, wondering what about his appearance had Ghent categorizing him so easily as human.
“There are others, yes,” Drust answered stiffly. He finished off the rest of his burger before elaborating. “They’ve been called the omitten. Not all of them are human. I’ve only met a couple handfuls. The Red Queen’s monsters are always on the hunt for them, forcing them underground.”
Elayra removed the fries from her bag, and fingered one, faintly admiring the salt and golden color. She popped it in her mouth, and chewed slowly, savoring the salty, fried sliver of potato, once more unsure whether she found it enjoyable or nasty. She settled on disgustingly delightful.

The fourth nickname had been one too many. "Touchy." Ghent tsked, then sighed dramatically as if he'd been wronged. "That was a compliment! Here on Earth, Merida is a popular archer. You should be thanking me."
The description of the other survivors was somewhat vague, yet unsettling all the same. He fell serious, taking this information of this into consideration for the days ahead.
"Should have expected as much. That's rough..." Ghent wondered how many family members -- if any -- he had in that situation. His mother could have been one of the ones forced underground. As it was, he wondered if she would have been better off dead along with Elayra's mother. Uncomfortable with the thought of it, he hastily pushed the idea aside.
After a moment's silence, Ghent lifted his head. "With odds like those, I take it that Elayra," he pronounced the name with the same enunciation as she had. "Doesn't have herself a prince back home, then." With that, he tossed his empty cup into the bag and cast her a smug, teasing smirk. "Looks like I've got a good chance at winning your heart, then, huh?" Ghent couldn't seem to help himself; he hadn't any siblings of his own to tease, and Elayra's stoic, yet temperamental mannerisms made her the ideal target.

“That’s rough…”
“A living nightmare,” Elayra offered in a monotone, rubbing her fingers together where some of the grease from the fry stuck to her skin. “But it is what it is. You move and adapt, or you die.” She reached for another fry, this one a tad bit more soggy than the last.
A silence fell in the shack, broken only by the sound of Drust pulling out his own fries, and examining the cardboard that held them, the logo on the bags printed on its front.
When Ghent began speaking again, Elayra raised her chin slightly and looked at him with a stony gaze at the way he said her name, but did not complain about it. At least he used it.
Anger flashed over her face at the suggestion of him being a candidate for her prince, before she caught on to his teasing tone. Her anger turned into a forced cold impassiveness on the verge of being frightening. She picked up the sheathed dagger as absently as she could, and drew it, apparently examining the wavy blade for any damage as she leaned back on one hand.
“A katoka has a greater chance at ‘winning my heart,’” she began with deliberate slowness, her tone matching her expression. The blue blade glinted mockingly in the light as she turned it over, “than someone incompetent enough to be bested by a simple mud puddle.”

The smirk was quick to leave Ghent's face. Within seconds, Elayra went from angry and annoyed to deadly and calculating. This wasn't quite the reaction he'd hoped for.
"I wasn't bested by the puddle," he began to argue until his eyes caught the glint of the dagger he regretted giving back. "I was...bested by the slide." Man. She was scarier than Drust.
Unnerved by her too-calm expression, Ghent cleared his throat nervously. "So...what's a katoka? Or would I be better off not knowing until tomorrow?" After what he'd learned so far, rest wouldn't come easily. The shadowmire's had been bad enough, but when he saw the way Elayra was eyeing the jagged blade, Ghent decided to sleep with one eye open.
"Uh...anyways...I should probably call my parents so they don't panic." Ghent hoped this would be excuse enough for him to avoid being stabbed. Cautiously, he started to reach for the phone that had acted as their only source of light. He wasn't sure what to tell them; he'd avoided that thought for the better part of the evening. Even though magic worked on Earth, he very much doubted Wonderland picked up any wi-fi. It was now or never.

Elayra glanced to Ghent, and sniggered in a twisted sense of humor at his desired uneasy reaction.
“Because being beaten by a slide is so much better?” she asked relatively lightly, smirking at him with amusement in her eyes. She tossed the dagger easily into the air as she reached for the sheath with the other hand. It twirled once before she caught it by the hilt and slid it back into the sheath in a single swift motion.
With Drust apparently more interested in his fries and the milkshake than her and Ghent’s exchange, Elayra shrugged in answer to his questions.
“Basically, nasty warrior cat people.” She tossed the sheathed dagger toward their packs, and it landed with a soft thump on hers. “Well, kind of people. They’re higher-ranking beasts in the Sorceress’ army. Ugly brutes, to top it off.”
Elayra watched Ghent with a tight smile as he stood, still apparently unnerved. A flicker of fear crossed her eyes when she realized he would be taking their current source of light, but she quickly tried to brush it away.
“There’s no need for you to remain with us tonight,” Drust finally spoke up, the box of fires in one hand and a few fries held in the other. “Go home. Prepare yourself and your family for your departure.”
Elayra swirled the melting shake around in the cup, her face hard with an unspoken objection.
“Return here by dawn's first light.” Finished, Drust ate the fries he had been holding.

"Wait, what?" Ghent drew his hand away from the device, dumbfounded by the permission to leave. Did this mean Drust trusted him enough to come back? Rather than further question the man, he hastily agreed. Elayra could draw that dagger again faster than she'd sheathed it.
"That'd probably be best for everyone involved." Ghent retrieved his backpack, only to toss the bag of half-finished fries into it along with the crumpled wrapper of his burger.
"Dawn's first light. I'll be here." As he promised to return, Ghent shouldered the pack, reluctant to take the phone from them.
"I feel kinda bad leaving you guys here, though...want me to grab any supplies or anything? There's a vending machine by the park, I could grab some bottles of water." Ghent knew they'd stayed at places far worse than this, and likely with less provisions, but his conscious nagged him. The least he could do was to leave them with a source of light and water. "I'll leave the phone with you."

Drust’s eyebrows twitched upward at Ghent’s reaction, his stony gaze glancing once between Ghent and the phone.
“That’d probably be best for everyone involved.”
“Indeed,” he grumbled, fingering a few more fries and watching Ghent gather his few things.
Elayra snorted at his commitment of return, glaring with a doubtful scowl into the cup at the remainder of the milkshake. She jabbed the straw in the melting liquid.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Elayra snapped at Ghent’s further offers. Drust’s pale lips pulled downward, though whether because of her tone or Ghent's words, she could not say for sure. “We’ll be fine, Ghent. So run along." She flicked her fingers dismissively at him. “Do what you need to do, and we’ll see you in the morning. Hopefully,” she added with a soft snort.
Drust glared at her. “As Elayra has so eagerly demonstrated,” he began stiffly. He looked back to Ghent, “it appears we can create our own light, if necessary. You have done plenty for us as it is.” He nodded jerkily toward their mostly empty bags of fast food. “Go home. Say your farewells. Prepare yourself,” he concluded in a stern voice demanding obedience.

“How many times do I have to tell you?”
Ghent cringed. It was official -- there was no winning with this girl.
"No need to bite my head off." Tempted as he was to address her attitude, Ghent left it at that. There'd been enough fighting for one evening. "If you're cool staying here, I'll go." Retrieving the phone, he checked how much battery remained. Considering how much they'd used the device, 37% was more than fair.
"Well...I'll see you guys." After a brief, awkward pause, Ghent turned and left the two from his past, careful to shut the broken door behind him.

---

The night was dark and the air remained comfortably cool. The walk home granted Ghent plenty of time for planning what to pack, what to leave behind, and what to say to his family.
Unarmed and distracted, he was easy prey. Drust's warning about keeping alert went in one ear and out the other; Ghent was so lost in thought that he paid very little attention to his surroundings.
Several blocks later, the old brick apartment came into view. The complex would have benefited from repairs, but Ghent saw the building in a new light. Compared to what Drust and Elayra must have been used to, this place was a castle and safe haven all rolled into one.
Fishing the key from his pocket, Ghent found their room and entered the home. Due to the size of their apartment, the entry way was nonexistent, the living room and entry area were conjoined. Even from the doormat, Ghent had full visual of his surroundings: only one light was on, and he could see that Henry and Mrs. Preston were watching a movie together. Both were seated on the ugly, floral printed sofa that should have been left in the 80's.
"Hey, Mom. I'm home." Hopefully this wasn't the last time. "Don't pause the movie. I'm just gonna change my clothes real quick."

The seven dwarves stopped singing. Mrs. Preston paused the movie. Great.
"There you are!" Elise rose to greet her son, relieved until she took notice of his disheveled appearance. "Ghent! You're covered in mud! What happened to your clothes?!"
An interrogation was anticipated, but avoidable. Ghent planned an explanation beforehand. "I fell chasing William...didn't Henry tell you?" As discretely as he could, he moved his backpack so it was out of view. No use making her any more suspicious.
"Oh, yes, that's right. I'd nearly forgotten! Poor Mrs. Saxon; she should keep William on a leash." Elise smiled fondly, proud of her son's heroics. "I'll make us some hot chocolate. Was William alright? Did you have fun with your friends?"
Ghent almost scoffed out loud at the idea of Drust and Elayra being his friends. They were barely even acquaintances. "Yeah, we had a blast...built ourselves a clubhouse and everything." Well, it was sort of true. "William's fine. No hot chocolate for me, thanks. I'll join you two later."
Henry rested his chin on the back of the couch, watching Ghent like a hawk. Ghent pretended not to notice, but he did. Henry was so observant that it was unnerving. What's worse, the younger of the two said nothing, so Ghent had no idea what was going on in that strange head of his.

Fixing the always-crooked family photo on the wall, Ghent continued down the hall and shut the door to his room. The sight rendered him speechless. His room hadn't been this clean since the day they'd moved in.
The cot was made, the bed was made, all clothes were sorted, folded, and hanging up according to color. Everything was in place; he could even see the carpet. Ghent wasn't sure whether to feel impressed or to feel creeped out. What was wrong with that kid?
Shrugging off his backpack, Ghent pulled a t-shirt from one of the hangers that had been seldom used until now.
The reality of leaving hadn't sunk in yet. Saying goodbye wasn't an option; his parents could never believe such a wild tale. Even if they did, they wouldn't allow him to go if they new the risks involved. He could scarcely believe it himself.
Conflicted, Ghent started to change into dry clothes when there were two knocks at the door. "Just a sec--"

Either Henry didn't hear, or he didn't care. The redhead walked right in, blowing the steam from his cocoa. "Hi, cousin! What do you think of the new room?"
"Henry! Come on!" Ghent hastily pulled on his pajama pants in fear that his mother should be with him. "I was getting dressed!"
"Sorry." Henry shut the door with his foot, and Ghent snorted under his breath in annoyance.
"Room looks great, thanks...it's all, organized..." Ghent liked it better before. He had no idea where half of his possessions were, but it didn't really matter. The room would be Henry's soon enough. "Thought you were watching Snow White."

"I am." Henry poked one of the marshmallows in his cup. "But I'm waiting for Aunt Elise. She's on the phone with my mom."
"Oh." Ghent put on a clean shirt, unsure how else to reply.
"I made three cars and half a spaceship with your Legos." Henry sat on the edge of his cot, daring to take a sip of the too-hot beverage. "Aunt Elise says you don't use them anymore."
"What, you dropping hints for freebies already?" Ghent tossed his muddied clothes into the hamper. "Go ahead and keep them. I never use them."
Unfazed by the sarcasm, Henry broke into a grin. "Gee, thanks!"

---

The evening went by only too fast. Ghent packed what clothes he could fit into the backpack, then went to join the others for the second half of the Disney marathon. The films weren't of much interest to him (did Henry really have to choose Bambi?) he merely wanted to spend one last day with the family that had been good enough to care for him all these years.
Through with work, Mr. Preston joined them too. Ghent's mind was never on the movie; the film was a blur to him, he could only dread what was to come.

The marathon ended a little before 12. The family talked a bit, and Henry marveled over the fact that they had stayed up 'half the night'. Ghent scoffed to himself; midnight was nothing. The day prior to this one, he'd been up well past 4. Despite his cousin's oddities, Ghent was thankful that he was here for a lengthily visit. Mrs. Preston doted upon the boy; his being here was a blessing in disguise. It was Ghent's hope that Henry would fill the void he would leave behind.

After saying goodnight to his parents, Ghent returned to his room, his heart heavy. Was this the right thing to do? Why should he help Elayra and Drust? They didn't like him, and he couldn't find many reasons to like them. What if Hatter was no longer alive? What if his magic didn't work? What if he couldn't come back?
Needless to say, Ghent was a nervous wreck. He couldn't have been more awake if he'd chugged down a few energy drinks.
It didn't help that Henry was prattling on about life back home. Ghent barely heard him. He was too busy worrying. Finally, he caved. He had to tell someone. Henry was the only one he dared to tell, Henry was the only one who didn't think him crazy.
"Henry, I need you to listen to me." Reaching over, Ghent turned on the lamp. "This is important."
Henry didn't need to be told twice. Quickly, he propped himself up on one arm, staring to his cousin with wide, brown eyes. "What is it? What happened?"
Brows knit, Ghent rolled onto his side so that he might face him. "Remember Wonderland?"
If at all possible, Henry's eyes grew larger. "Yes..."
Ghent exhaled shakily. "It's real...and I'm going there tomorrow."