There is a moment before the storm when the quality of light changes, seems to almost brighten just a second before the clouds swallow it up. Sometimes, that moment is lost, never noted, other times it is seen and wondered at. Bess stood, her arms around her mother, staring into the ruin of the home she’d ever known and watched as the light changed. She felt her skin prickle and her tummy do little flip-flops like when she knew the fairies were nearby. The light lied, it told her things were bright when it was exactly the opposite. She struggled against her Mama, wanting to pull away, to see where the fairies were but her mother held her tight, needing comfort more than giving it. The tall man was there, her fiddle player only he had no fiddle now. He was holding her mother and though her Mama’s golden head was leaning on his shoulder she still needed to feel her daughter.

It was maddening and Bess continued to squirm, certain that she needed to get loose, she needed to see and witness the arrival of the Fairies. She couldn’t say this though, her Mama made her promise she wouldn’t tell people about the fairies, for her own sake her Mama said. Finally with a great big yank she pulled free and she heard her Mama’s cries increase, her now free arms slipping around the fiddler. Bess ignored the small bit of jealousy that flashed inside her. It was stupid, she liked the fiddler, but still it was too easy for her Mama to fill her arms with someone else even though Bess had been wanting to be free. She didn’t have to make sense after all.

She stumbled past the ring of Travelers and looked around, her eyes narrowed squinting which sometimes helped her see the Fairies as they danced from Shadow to shadow, slipping in and out of people. They didn’t often linger in people which was good, that made her skin crawl when they squatted inside people like they did in Myra or her new bestest friend Luca who wasn’t creepy any longer. They were there and she felt her heartbeat double when she tried to count them. She could count really high, almost too all the stars in the sky. So what if she always grew bored or sleepy before she finished, that didn’t mean she couldn’t do it! There seemed to be more of the shadows than she’d ever seen before. Some of them seemed a little ragged, like that well used cloth Mama cleaned the flue with, black and tattered. For now they seemed to be teeming around the people who were moving towards the show area pausing to watch as the Innkeeper wept and then moving on. The Fairies seemed content to grin at her and touch the people passing. People shivered and snapped at each other, the jostling increased a little and the fairies smacked their lips and danced. Bess shivered and looked around for help.

Before she could find it a commotion came, a knot moved through the crowd and the villagers parted before it until she could see the face of the Sheriff a dour man who smelled to often of whiskey, a man who had once wondered if her Mama might like a new husband. A man who hadn’t been happy about her decision but who had occasionally crept out of her Mama’s Inn really early some mornings still wearing the same clothing. He hadn’t done it for a while but Bess never forgot and had been meaning to ask about that. It would have to wait. She didn’t like the look that crossed Jonah Pike’s face when he looked at Drust the wonderful as he held her Mama. It was tight, it was angry and it only got worse when one of the fairies climbed up his back, jumped into the air and dove into him like the village boys did to the pond in the summer.

He wasn’t alone, the man or the fairies. Bess recognized the men, his sometimes deputies which was a title that meant only that they occasionally got to feel like they were important, or so her Mama had said when one tried to bully her once. Each one of them was being ridden by a fairy. Bess felt her blood run cold and she turned and ran back towards her Mama, towards the Fiddle man. She tugged at her Mama’s sleeve and at the wrist of Drust.

“Run!” she hissed. “Run, the Fairies are here!”

But she was too late, she knew it even as she said it. A dull murmuring had followed the men and it only grew as they passed through the milling crowd as word spread. Finally Bess could hear what they said. The priest was dead, one of the village girls was dead and the fiddler man had done it.

They pushed through the crowd and those that fought were pulled away, pinned and held if needed.

“No!” Bess yelled as the people she’d known all her life, driven by the fairies she’d always feared began to push and jostle the people she’d come to love. Her Mama was shouting, demanding an explanation and Jonah was giving it. People dead, fiddle strings, blood and talk of hangings. Her Mama was fierce but not more so than the friendly Ogre who let loose a roar that made everyone step back. He charged forward and Bess watched with fascinated horror, certain she was going to see something interesting, but he never made it. The shadow ridden people surged in between him and the Sheriff and though he struggled his face turned grey and she watched as he clutched at his chest and stumbled to the ground, dropping from view.

“No!!!! Father!!!” yelled the tiny cake maker and though Bess couldn’t see her she watched as people between where she’d last seen the tiny woman and where the Ogre had fallen were jostled and shoved aside.

It got confusing after that, very confusing. It wasn’t nearly as interesting as Bess would have thought, it was terrifying and in the end Drust was dragged off in chains surrounded by so many of the villagers the only reason Bess could see him was because he stood a head taller than them. But worst of all, her Mama was taken too. She wouldn’t let go of Drust and had cursed so loudly, so long that they had taken her too. Bess had heard pain in her Mama’s cries but hadn’t been able to see what happened to her. She only knew when the cries cut off and stopped.

Then it was over, all over and she stood before her ruined home with the remains of the circus standing around her, some furious, some in shock and at least one of the weeping. But not louder than Bess.

“Mama!!!!” she screamed, her small fists tight her heart breaking as all around her the fairies laughed and visibly grew fat.

Vandilo

Flashes of memory passed before Vandilo’s eyes like staccato bursts of lightning. The images of his father being dragged away to the gallows, and the mob that was now spiriting his best friend to a similar fate, melded together to produce a singular flow of dismay unlike any Vandilo had yet known.

Still dressed in his performance costume, V rushed the mob, trying desperately to reach Drust. Several of the Sheriff’s deputized thugs fought against him, and blows were exchanged. With his practiced agility, V managed to land several ferocious strikes, and likewise was able to avoid some of the sloppier ripostes from the so called “law” men. In his fists was a quaking ferocity borne upon the wings of desperation, but even with the collective might of his other Traveler brethren, the townspeople were simply too numerous to battle through.

For Vandilo, the fight truly ended when he saw the mighty form of Abe stumble and fall, clutching at his chest in pain. He cried out to him, yelling the patriarchs name through the gathering swarm of the gloom spirits. In that moment, distracted, Vandilo felt a heavy fist strike his face, just below his left eye. Stars burst within his vision and he stumbled, trying to twist to his assailant, before at last falling into the mire of the street. The cacophony of screams and yells merged into a distant, nauseating buzz, and V fought back the bile that threatened to spew from his throat.

Eventually, his vision began to sharpen into focus, and the fog of his senses lifted. Vandilo was able to push himself from up from the mud, and as he looked through the shuffling chaos, he tried to take stock of his surroundings. He saw Abe, still lying on the ground, several yards from him. To his eyes he seemed alive and conscious, but Vandilo could not say for certain. His head swept left and right as he made a shaky move to stand. A new wave of nausea found him, and he stumbled once again, bumping into a villager as he did. The woman shoved back at him in fright, and somehow Vandilo managed to keep his feet.

With his head pounding, V willed himself to move towards Abe, and he began shoving through the crowd towards him when a distinct cry found his ears. He recognized it instantly, and he turned to his left to see Bess wailing for her mother. She was mere feet from him, and Vandilo bent down to sweep the child into his arms. He pressed her tightly to him, and the feeling of her pounding heart against his chest sent a new surge of adrenaline into his veins.

Vandilo held a protective hand on the back of her head, before he spoke into the girl’s ear. “Bess, we’ll get her back. We’ll get your mother back, I promise. We’ve got to get somewhere safe. I need you to be brave for me Bess, can you do that? Be brave for your magician?” As he spoke the words, he did not know if he was saying them for her benefit, or to buoy his own sinking heart.

Still holding Bess tightly, Vandilo made his way towards Abe, and as he did, he caught sight of Edimér and Chavi. He called out to Eri. “We’ve got to get out of here!” As he spoke his eyes went wide with a thought, and he looked frantically about as at last he made it to where Abe lay. “Has anyone seen Floure? Where’s Floure?” Vandilo cried out as he knelt beside their fallen father.

Floure

Floure danced and twirled taking children by the hand until they grew dizzy. She giggled as they laughed. Her feet tapping the ground and her body moved in the familiar sway of the Traveler dance. To the observer the dance seemed to have no structure and none of the moves were repeated more than once. To the dancer it was an intricate performance of memory and grace. But then amidst all of the townspeople Floure was overcome by a sudden dizziness. It was not of her dancing as she had practiced it many times before. A nauseating feeling was spreading through her and her stomach turned and twisted as it always did when.........

Oh no....

She looked around for her family, panic staring to well inside her. The children were tugging at her and asked why they stopped dancing. The feeling got worse and after a while she struggled to stay standing. She lowered herself to the ground to sit. The hot panic was making her feel like she had a fever, her skin running hot and cold at the same time. She tried to concentrate on her breathing to try and will the pain to go away. They were behind this, the misery spirits. These were the feelings they brought upon her. They disoriented her senses and never failed to make her feel sick, but their weapon became hers and she could use it against them. She would always know when they were coming and they were getting closer still.

Only what the young fortune teller had not foreseen was the man approaching her from behind. She didn't have the chance to react and he pinned her do the ground forcefully, knocking the air from her lungs. It left her breatheless and she idly hoped he had just pushed her down by accident because she didn't want to face what would surely follow, but when he grabbed her arms he neglected to cover her mouth and she screamed. She kept screaming terrified of what he was going to do. It was too late to put on a mask of fearlessness, he'd already seen her weakness. Still something stirred within her and obliged her to fight back.

She spat at him and pushed letting out a grunt. He went for her throat and she could see it in his eyes. He was no longer a man. Floure kept struggling and did the only thing she could, pray.
I beg you my Ancestors and Gods, please see me through this. My family needs me and I need them.

Bess

Bess fought and kicked in Vandilo’s arms for a minutes, hysterical and terrified that the strong arms that had snatched her up were the same sort that had snatched up her Mama and dragged her away. But his word, his kindness broke through the panic and stilled her scrawny limbs. Her arms wrapped tight around his neck with surprising strength.

“I can’t!” she wailed in response to his request for bravery. “I can’t be brave without her, Mama was my strength and they took her from me!” and then suddenly her whole little body went rigid and she pointed off to a seemingly empty bit of street.

“They took her! They did, the fairies did. They squat inside people like toads but I can see them and I saw them take her and I’m going to get her back! Her and my Wizard and then we are going to leave them all behind!” The raw rage in her voice was painful to hear and she began to struggle and wriggle and slip from Vandilo’s arms, slippery as a greased ferret.

Chavi

She didn’t remember getting through the crowd yet somehow, inexplicably she had. One moment she was standing near her brother and the woman she didn’t want to like and the next there was a mob and she was pushed back. Her tiny size making her easy to buffet around. She was helpless as her brother was taken from her, to tiny to fight back like the Innkeeper had. Whose ferocity on her brother’s behalf despite the concussion made Chavi reconsider her dislike. Still Chavi tried to stop the mob, for all the good it did her. She shouted, clutched at clothing and pounded with her little fists, all to no avail. It was only when her father bellowed and stumbled that something inside her snapped.

“Papa!!!” she screamed with as much despair as Bess’s similar cry. Nothing mattered, nothing registered to the tiny woman until she was by his side, lifting his giant head from the ground and resting it on her lap as she called to him. She paid no mind to the more than half dozen people she had somehow knocked over on her rush, her whole world focused on the gray face of her father.

“Please Papa, please….” She whispered as she pressed two fingers to his pulse, held her breath and prayed. His pulse was thin, thready and made her own heart twist painfully in her chest. He was alive, she reminded herself even if she knew it was still dicey whether he would stay that way or not.

“He’s alive.” She said aloud just to hear the words, to send them up to the Ancestors to give them weight that would make them stick. It wasn’t her Papa’s time.

“Papa you stay with me, you just stay with me. You need to talk to Edimér, you need to stand there at the Runestone with us. Please.”

She looked up at Vandilo arrived with the screaming child and looked up at him with a face pale and tear-streaked just as the girl began to twist and wriggle away.

Edimér

For one unnerving, never-to-be-forgotten horrific moment, Edimér was paralyzed with indecision as the grounds exploded into a cacophony of shouts and screams, anger and accusations. His brother Drust went one way, chained and dragged - and then almost as horrific, the shadow-born villagers grabbed Maggie as well when she fought them as valiantly as a wildcat. Murder? Drust!? It was simply insane, unimaginable, The chaos was as palpable as his dogs' desire to throw themselves into the fray, even little Opal, and it was only by a towering force of will that Eri kept them from turning a mob into the start of a bloodbath.

When Abe's bellow cut through the air, a bellow every bit as terrifying in its fury, unmanning grown men all around him; as his great playful roar had sent little boys giggling and screeching with joy so many years ago - and no more than an hour earlier. But when the man who'd become the only father he'd ever known, the father of his dear brother and his beloved Fae, collapsed to the ground? Chavi had disappeared, her tiny form swallowed by the crowd, and Edimér damn near panicked, his eyes wide as his heart was suddenly torn in two...

In the end, it was Vandilo's choice that freed him to make his own. And as his fiery friend took on the whole damned mob if he could, Edimér sprinted toward the spot where Abe had fallen. He fell to his knees beside the man, opposite his pretty Fae with her tear-streaked cheeks and wide, wet eyes that just raked his heart. Abe's skin was pale, bloodless, and for a moment he despaired until Chavi said he lived. If she said this was a true thing, then Edimér could not hold a doubt that it was. And perhaps it was his own overwhelming grief that kept him from ever considering the idea that her words may have been every bit as much desperate wishful thinking than a real stab at truth.

"No, no V I haven't seen Floure yet," Eri said as he lay the tips of his fingers against the side of Abe's neck, fingers falling to his wrist to feel what he might for the beat of that mighty heart - though worried eyes scanned the crowd futily even as he worked.

But Bess' struggles brought him back, and the young man shook his head swiftly. "Bess, please - we're going to go get them!" He'd dropped all pretense of addressing her as the Queen of the Rabbits, and only spoke to her now for the willful, terrified child she truly was. "We leave none of our people behind, or let them go - not ever! And your mother too Bess, your mother too. I swear it. But for now please... Luca? Luca!"

Eri called to the boy, beckoning him over, addressing him with all the solemnity of another adult. He could only pray that Luca's demeanor might reach where the admonitions of adults could not, and give the girl a measure of peace just long enough to see to Abesoloma. "Please, over here," he still managed with a small, tight smile. "Sit with Bess just a moment so we can see to Abe."

In the next instant, his attentions turned to Jasper who, along with his small 'pack' of canine performers, made a protective ring about the remaining Travelers. "Go... Navid! HAI!" Hurt or no, beside Chavi there was no single better healer nor herbalist to be found, he knew. Pearl had managed to insinuate herself beside her beloved Chavi, great mahogany eyes looking up to the young woman, her bulk pressed reassuringly against the young woman's legs. Beryl stood beside Vandilo, and Bess, his wide bully head trying to insinuate itself against Bess, his preternatural calm against her young, terrified emotions.

And little Opal curled against Abe's side, whining softly as she raised her head to lay against his belly. Edimér looked to Chavi, meeting her doe-eyed gaze with a grim smile that tried for reassurance before he turned toward the fallen giant. One hand slipping gently behind Abe's thick neck now, he bent toward the man's face, looking over that much loved visage for any sign that he was still conscious, somehow.

Navid, who had only resumed his pleasant rest an hour ago, heard the commotion and startled awake. It took seconds for him to realize he must have frightened Miss Myra when he bolted upright so quickly, but for the moment his concern was too focused on the noises outside the wagon. Regretfully he made no move to act beyond staring out the window as if to assess the situation – doing his best to pretend this was normal.

But as his eyes scanned the sky he realized an all too familiar kind of storm brewed and boiled in the not too distance fairgrounds. It was then he suddenly stood up and immediately hissed while his still bandaged feet painfully proclaimed their dislike of his deliberate disregard for their injuries. Admittedly he probably would have fallen back to the bed had Myra not been there to lend a gentle hand.

“I am well, thank you.” He replied with a painful smile while he weighed out his options and carefully considered her situation. Navid knew something was wrong and he might just be needed to help. However in his current state he was also next to useless. He could ask Myra for help, but he also did not want to take her into the storm for fear the trauma it might cause her barely healed soul. But he could think of no other options but to take the poor dear with him.

“Please trust me we need to go out there soon,” he said as he took her hand quickly and then released it as he tiptoed cautiously toward his bags. “I need to make a small thing first, but I want you to pack any pouches I give to you.”

After he handed her an empty bag he began to pass different herb pouches to her, all of them vastly different shapes, sizes, colors, and fabrics. Some were closed with cords, others were tied with simple string, not a few ringed quietly as vials clanked against one another, and then there were the four closed with silver pins. Between the trades he would sometimes pause, open a pouch and remove an herb which he then set between them. The last thing he did was remove one of the silver pins from one of the other pouches he possessed and set that with the tiny pile.

“Pack anything else you think I might need.” Then he looked up at her and with a smile he added, “I think you might be better at finding anything I missed, signorina.”

His eyes fell to the pile then, quick hands beginning to work their own magic. A simple spell he concocted when he met a group of Travelers in his youth. Even now he hummed out his own instructions to himself as he crafted the little trinket.

“Give the black threaded star,” he wrapped an anise seed in black thread before picking up a three sprigs of angelica, “To a bright trio of angels.” Then he picked up a picked up a group of lilac flowers and an orange cord.

Navid’s hands went to work to tie the sets together to the silver pin while he continued his little spell. “Gift the trio royal flowers, wrapped in sunny cord. Tie them to a shining pin, one crafted from the Moon’s metal.” Then he carefully snatched a piece of cloth near Myra’s collar and pinned the little collection to her clothes. “Place these sisters on your chest, and you will be safe from the rest.”

After he exhaled deeply he smiled at Myra, and held his hands up in mock defense before she could speak. “Before you say a word, I have run too low on orange cord to craft another for myself. But so long as one of us is protected and strong, then we can all are saved from doubt.”

As he began to make his way out ever so slowly and carefully, he talked while he walked as if to distract himself from his trembling footsteps. “Each color has a meaning, each plant as well. The black thread would normally apply to spells involving the dead, but wrapped around a seed it sows new and humble beginnings. The orange cord is encouragement, wrapped about the lilacs it gives the angels even more strength to ward off evil spirits. I am now hoping that perhaps-!”

Just as he was about to mount the horse Edimér had left behind, Navid gasped rather dramatically as the hound – Jasper, he reminded himself - bounded toward Myra and his miserable self. “No! Stop! None of that. To your master. I know. Go back and we will be right behind.”

He offered his hand to Myra once he was seated in the saddle. When he thought she made a move to hand him his satchel he flashed a mildly amused smile of gentle admonishment. Once her hand was in his, he hauled her up and into the saddle. As he snapped the reins he said with a weak and nervous laugh, “You know I have never had an assistant before, although I could get used to it.” He was a little scared right now but Jasper proved quite easily that Navid was needed at least by Edimér if no one else.

When they arrived in front of the ring of Travelers, he let Myra slide down first, before carefully following her to the ground – although his drop was followed by a shudder and muffled grunt. With a quick inhale and a light laugh at the pain, he began to hurriedly tiptoe to the only one on the ground. He beckoned Myra closer as he got near the daughter and father.

Amber eyes scanned the man from head to toe as he began to pull out vials from his pack with a nod to Myra as he opened it. While he began to mix his ingrediants he asked questions, “Was your father attacked? What was he doing before that moment? Did he clutch his chest? How long as he been like this? Can you keep him awake?” To each question, save the last, he adjusted his mixture accordingly. Willow salt, finely crushed parsley, two juniper berries, the last of his dragon’s blood, and a half vial of lavender honey was mixed together until it was a loose paste until it became the color of amaranth petals.

At the moment Navid was unsure at this moment if it was age alone that had caused the Traveler’s leader to fall but took no chances. If it was natural, then the earth would need to wait to stake her claim. If it was the magic of imps then this should dispel it at once. But with Chavi’s encouragement – because Navid could swear on his ancestors – nothing could force a nearly dying man to move except the voice of a beloved daughter. “Please stay with us Master Traveler. I know this is a bitter spice but it strengthens the heart and soul.” Small spoonfuls of gooey medicine was the best he could prescribe. If something else was wrong there were other methods but their chance of saving a man were too insignificant to count on.

Luca

Luca felt like a coward. He’d felt the presence of the shadows like a prickle of cobwebs across his skin as they had stood outside the ruined Inn. It was something he felt often since the creatures were everywhere, but he’d learned to dismiss it and had done so. Still it had prickled at him and when things exploded he’d simply hidden behind the others and watched as everything went to hell. He was paralyzed, so afraid he didn’t even make a sound when Abe toppled and tiny Chavi, not much taller than he had fought her way through the crowd to his side. It was only afterwards, as things were clearing up and Beth’s fierce screams were filling him with further shame that he moved forward.

Edimér calling to him, giving him a task, something he could do felt like a gift, a small chance at redemption. He wasn’t certain if the older man had seen him hang back like a coward, Luca hoped not, but he vowed to do better. He would not shrink from trouble again. Chin up, eyes wet he grabbed hold of Bess who pounded at him with her little fists hard enough to bruise him. He didn’t let go, not even when she redoubled her efforts.

“You punch like a girl!” he shouted at her and in her shock she froze and glared at him. All her impotent fury at a world she could not change focused onto him and pulled her back into the moment as she glared at him and lifted her fist in front of his face menacingly.

“I do not! I punched you real good earlier and if you don’t take that back I’ll do it again.”

Luca felt a shaky smile flickering across his features and he nodded, conceding, “Maybe, but I can spit further.”

It was too much for Bess,

“Nu-uh!” And she began the noisy process of gathering spit as Luca guided her a little further from the others just as the new man thundered up with the girl who still had the spirit inside her. Luca shivered and watched her pass, he could almost see the thing inside her, pressing against her, against her control. He felt Bess still next to him and looked down at her to see her watching the girl with wide eyes.

“I see it too…” she whispered and stepped closer to him.

Chavi

Chavi watched as Navid whom she’d yelled at so fiercely just the day before, whom Edimér swore was worth trusting poured medicines into her father’s mouth and prayed to the ancestors with all her might that he was worthy. Her father’s bloodless lips moved and underneath his thick beard she saw his throat move as he took the medicine in. Then, slowly like a winter sunrise his color began to return and his labored breathing eased.

A sob escaped her and she collapsed against Edimér and sobbed, nodding and muttering her thanks to Navid. What would she do if her Father died? What would they all do? It had seemed unthinkable but then so much that had seemed unthinkable had happened in just the past few ways.
When she could she spoke,

“Thank you Navid, thank you.” She lightly touched his wrist with her pale, cold fingers and then looked to the others,

“We need to get him somewhere quiet, somewhere safe and then we need to get Drust back.”

Floure ceased her struggling, he was just too strong, keeping her pinned down on the ground. She felt her strength fading and she needed to save what she had left. She bit down on her lips to try and stop whimpering. The only why she was going to get out of this alive was to feign giving in and so she did. The spirit produced a devils smile on the face of the man, filling his head with drunken desires. The look on his face scared her at first but then it also made her incredibly angry. So much even that it gave her the courage to fight back. She had lived through worse than this, walked through fire, hunted by the church and maybe the worst of all having to lie to her family every day for a whole year. She would not be taken down by this misery spirit.

He lowered his face to hers his lips trying to finds hers. Adrenaline rushed through her and when he got close enough she forcefully rammed her forehead against his own. He howled in pain but she wasn't done and impinged her knee into his manhood. Stars were floating before her eyes as she struggled to get up. A violent stinging sensation was quickly spreading on her forehead. With shaking fingers she gently touched the bump forming on her forehead. The adrenaline was starting to leave her system and she knew her throbbing head wasn't the only thing she was going to feel. She didn't see her family anywhere and even though she more than anything wanted to be with them, her battered shape wouldn't let her. It was by the grace of the Gods and the ancestors that she was still standing. The impact with the ground had been much rougher than it seemed at first. There was blood trickling from her nose and her palms were grazed, making it very painful to move her fingers. She heard the man who attacked her groaning on the ground and looked down at him. Seeing someone in pain used to worry her. She would do anything to make the pain go away. Now she didn't feel any of those things, she felt justified. Who else was going to defend her if not herself? It was either her or him. Thanking the ancestors with a softly whispered prayer she dragged herself to the stairway of her wagon and tried to maneuver herself into a position which hurt the less. She breathed in deeply which made her cringe in pain simultaneously.

You see Mami, I'm still here. Maybe my marriage wasn't all bad after all, he at least taught me to stand up for myself. I don't know if I would have been here otherwise. If you could look past her size and pretty facade the young fortune teller was actually quite resilient. Not as tough as the Traveler men, but she was no pushover mind you. Now all she needed was her family, to hold them in a tight embrace so they knew how much she cherished them. She kept her pale eyes on the road ahead, her heart filled with both hope and fear. Hopefully they wouldn't look like her, because she was confident she looked horrible. Even so she would take them battered and beaten any day, instead of...... She wasn't even going to allow the words to enter her thoughts.

V relished the oasis of Bess’ embrace for the scant moments her arms were wrapped around his neck. Her tiny arms, so powerful despite their size, brought pools of tears to his eyes as the child’s pain and fear bled through. He made to speak soothing words to her, to affirm that they would return her to her mother, but Bess had already begun to struggle. Vandilo didn’t fight her, and he allowed the girl to slip free of his grasp.

With Bess free of his arms, he felt impotent and lost. In the chaotic nightmare of the past few minutes, protection of Bess had given him purpose, and had taken his mind from their failure to protect Drust. Now, as he knelt near beside his brothers and sisters who were lending their aid to Abe, he had no such crutch. Navid’s skilled hands worked quickly, and V tried to look for an opening to help. He would reach to assist, but his movements were hesitant and unpracticed, and Navid worked around him like water passing around a river stone.

Frustration with his feeble actions mounted in his chest, a misplaced target for the hatred of those who had taken his brother, and at last he sat back upon the ground with a grunt of anger. His hands found their way to either side of his head, the fingers lacing into his dirty blond hair, pulling at the strands. Drust was in the hands of individuals tainted by the imps, his patriarch lay injured upon the ground, and his eyes had yet to find Floure. The defining threads that had woven themselves into the tapestry of his life were being pulled away, and with them his existence seemed on the brink of unraveling. Around them, the imps danced and laughed. Not hiding in the dark corners as they usually did. No, now they were fat with despair and fear, and they moved amongst Croftshire like flies upon carrion, emboldened by the wounding of their natural predators.

Vandilo looked up into the face of Chavi as her voice rose in tremulous joy at Navid’s handiwork. He blinked several times as his mind at last surpassed his racing emotion. Here was Chavi, with her brother taken, and her father lying injured before her, and she had not crumpled into a worthless pile of desolation. Though her expression was etched with the lines of worry, she had not relinquished hope, and this brought shame flooding into quell the fire of his selfishness. V had no right to crumple where his family stood strong, even in the face of tragedy.

At Chavi’s mention of getting to safety, V found a renewed purpose, and he stood. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he blew a loud whistle. The sound carried above the lingering din, and in moments he heard the whinnied rejoinder of Hibo. The mare galloped up the road and came to a skidded stop beside Vandilo, where she stood pawing nervously in place.

V turned to kneel beside Abe once more, looking up to his family. “We can lay Abe across Hibo’s back. I say we either get back to camp, or at the very least make it into the forest.” He shuffled over to take a position behind Abe’s massive shoulders, and he braced his hands under the man’s armpits, ready to lift.

"You're right love, we will... We will... " Edimér rocked Chavi in his arms, grateful to all the kind ancestors to have something to do, something that felt right and useful while Navid worked his own amazing brand of magic over Abe's too-still body. He was damn near tempted to burst into grateful tears himself when he saw Abe's throat move, the dawning realization his 'father' really was alive as Chavi had insisted, but his arms were full of lovely Fae, and there was no time to spare if they were going to return Drust to their family.

Carefully he released Chavi, kissing her sweet plump cheeks, a tender thumb to wipe away her tears, and then he was swiftly beside Vandilo, helping to raise the man up over gentle Hibo's back. "To the camp it is," he said grimly, a long, slow, frustrated sigh escaping his chest. "No one can properly tend to Abe, and he can't rest, not in the forest."

Eri's gaze rested momentarily on Navid, and then Myra, a grim smile for the miraculous man and the woman whose very life was a miracle, before his eyes moved once more back to Vandilo. "And we can't make plans to bring our brother home, until we can gather ourselves, all our people - and then whatever else we'll need."

The young man glanced toward Luca, beckoning the boy over with Bess, who were both eyeing Myra warily. He took a knee before the children, meeting their gaze as seriously and earnestly as if they were grown. And Eri spoke as much to the brave, humble grey-eyed boy who didn't understand the depths of his own strength, as to the brilliant, uncanny little girl. "We're going back to the caravan - but only for now. We have to gather everyone up, see to Abesoloma - and then we're going to get your mother, and Drust. I swear it. Luca, you and Bess can ride the horse I brought here. Vandilo will take Abe, and I'll ride with Chavi and... "

Eri groaned softly in the back of his throat, though he cut it off quickly. Floure. Where in all the seven hells was Floure?

The young man gathered himself quickly, not giving either one of the children something new to worry on. "And we'll meet up there. Go on now." Edimér stood to his feet, glancing over the vast space of the grounds before turning swiftly, and taking Luca by the shoulder for just a moment longer. "You've done well Luca," he said in a soft whisper, "You should be proud." A gentle smile made those dark eyes shine. "I know I am."

And with that, he let the boy go, turning on his booted feet, whistling for Jasper. Beryl and Pearl flanked Chavi, her eternal bully sentries, and Eri was glad to keep them there beside his beloved Fae. The red wolfhound loped to Edimér's side, his great head turned upward toward Master. He only had one word to whisper in the dog's ear, one command.

"Floure."

Floure was having trouble keeping her eyes open, her head was throbbing and she cringed every time she moved. Breathing wasn't much better either. As far as she could tell nothing was broken, but everything was bruised. She let out an exhausted sigh. All the villagers had left after the chaos had erupted. The scent of honey cakes still lingered, the tarps blowing in the wind and all that remained were the bright wagons of the caravan. In a way it reminded her of their little private show. She recalled the first time wistfully. After her first show had ended she just assumed that was it, but she was so glad to be proven wrong. She smiled fondly at the memories.

There was something moving in the distance and it was coming towards her. At first she couldn't make out who or what it was but as it came closer she recognized his auburn fur. Jasper! A relieved smile spread across her face as the dog rushed towards her crossing the circus grounds in a matter of seconds. She pushed herself of the stairway with a grunt. Jasper was as much her family as his master and everyone else. The pack had grown on her the past year and she had come to love these dogs greatly. Even though she had been hesitant at first, they were the kindest and most loyal dogs she had ever met. Edimer had shared with her his belief that dogs were meant to be companions of man. They were fiercely loyal and for that deserved as much respect as people. Floure kneeled down and giggled when Jasper started to sniff her hair and skirts. "I'm fine, don't worry" She attempted an awkward pat but with her grazed palms she couldn't really pat him like she used to. Instead she snuggled up to the large dog. She breathed in his scent, the familiar smell that always seemed to be around Eri too. "If he sent you that means they're all okey right?" The young fortune teller asked with great pale eyes.

Jasper just looked back at her with his dark eyes, but there was something about that look. It was hard to put into words but it sucked away all of the relief she'd felt only moments before. She turned back to look at the gathered wagons, debating what to do. Staying by herself had proved to be dangerous and she more than anything wanted to be at her family's side. If not to just make sure they were alright, they would keep each other safe. Floure honestly had lost all heart in helping this village. "Please Jasper take me to them" She gathered herself from the ground and they started down the roads. Floure kept a watchful eye on her surroundings though she doubted she could do much more than run, if she needed to she would. The great red hound tugged at her skirts as she walked trying to help her along, but also to make haste. All it did was make her worry even more. She kept whispering prayers of protection, hoping the Gods and their ancestors were looking out for her family. She could not stop walking until she saw each and every one of them alive and well.

Dark eyes peered over the assembled heads of the crowd from beneath the gray, non-descript cowl, hard and cold and without the least hint of laughter dancing there now. The young man's face not hidden in shadow remained grim and thoughtful as he looked to the makeshift gallows hastily set up beside the desecrated church. Edimér had never known his father. He had been far too young, only a very little boy, to remember anything of the man who was executed for extracting justice for his lost, beloved wife. But the sight of a gallows would always turn his stomach, the memory of his Grand-mère's quiet tears when she thought no one was looking; the silent despair in his Grand-père's eyes as they rode solemnly past a full gibbet, an occupied gallows...

Eri shook himself quickly beneath the cloak, teeth ground together, jaw and shoulders near to aching with the unspeakable tension of the wait, though he remained still and silent as the grave.

He'd held her close, his beloved Fae, and the the spicy sweet scent of her lingered on him still, even here among the dark and the shadows that tormented these people. And he'd promised her - sworn to her - he'd return her brother to his family, to his Purrin family and their Traveler family. One day Croftshire would one day be a far distant memory, long-forgotten and unremembered but for the golden lady Drust loved and their Rabbit Queen.

'I love you, Chavi.' It was the mantra now that ran through his head, his laid lightly on the hilt of the dagger at his waist beneath the cloak, the lengths of rope strapped to his back an almost reassuring weight. There had been some talk, some matter that weighed heavily in her thoughts this morning - but there'd been no promised time to speak after this day's performance.

Later then, when his Fae held her brother and her father, safe and close and never to be taken from her again - not while he still had life and breath in his body.

'I love you, Chavi.' Vandilo's silken ash runes felt like silken warmth beneath his clothes - but nothing to match the feel of her small, lithe body pressed against him, or the heat of her lips as he kissed her farewell - but only for the moment. Yes, only for a moment.

'I love you, Chavi. Navid's wards hung under his shirt, a heady mixture of herbs wrapped in his brother's magics. Jasper was far too conspicuous, too large to go unnoticed, and remained with his mate and their family at the caravan, a stalwart guard. Though Pearl and Beryl had allowed Eri to wrest them from Chavi's side for this endeavor, he still would have given anything at the moment, that Garnet's wing was whole again, but there was simply no help for it now.

Opal refused to leave Abe's side, not from the very moment they'd returned with the great man from the fairgrounds, her small warm body wedged firmly against his, a soft whine in her throat as her furry head wedged its way beneath the palm of his great hand. The memory of that sight, and those tears on Chavi's sweet, flawless cheeks only hardened his resolve. The young man didn't need his eyes to sense the bully dogs, flanking the crowd on either side, heads down, tails down, looking not much better in their well-muddied coats than stray dogs not worth the effort of a good kick.

The young man's gaze fell over the crowd gathering once more, looking for a sign from his brothers that they were in place.

Mino watched as the Sheriff began. The man stood on the Gallows between the twin ropes and began to recite the “evidence” of the crimes committed by the Traveler. It didn’t really matter what evidence there was, the whole thing was a farce. Mino knew this, how well he knew it, but it was still interesting to hear the effort the man put into it. The Sheriff believed with all his heart that he was saying the truth. That the innocent man who stood, battered, bruised, bound and gagged behind him had done the horrible things he’d described. He believed it because he was told to. As he spoke the horrible details aloud, some of them fact some of them spun out of the delicious fear, lust and anger that filled the space between the townsfolk, it only served to work up the cattle more. Each one of them hosted a dark spirit, the biggest gathering ever, the biggest army ever. And each one of those spirits feasted and their general, the one who had fought and planned this feasted the most, safe, secure and hidden.

They brought out the whore next, her golden head bowed, her body held up by her captors. She’d taken a blow to her head, Mino saw and clucked his tongue sympathetically. When she lifted her head to glare at the crowd her gaze was unfocused and hazy, one lovely eye swollen shut by a blow taken in defense of her latest lover. The sheriff then began to detail her crimes and as he listed them Mino’s eyebrows rose. It seemed their little Innkeeper had been busy, spreading her legs for everything, literally everything with something that hung between. The tales were lurid and by the end even the dazed Innkeeper was red with shame and struggling feebly against her captors. Her denials, her curses were lost behind the gag.

Not one of her townsfolk stood up for her, not one of them who had supped at her table, who had been given extensions on their tab stepped forth. They were not allowed but more than that, they were afraid. Afraid that to take the first step was to take her place. The rope was hungry for a neck, better hers than theirs. Her with her unnatural child, her dead traveler husband. Better her than them.

When the litany of lies was done the sheriff stepped back and gestured to his men. They pushed and prodded the two forward, slipping one rope over his and one rope over hers. Mino thought it was almost poetic that they should be there together, standing before a crowd at a gallows instead of a runestone. It was delicious and tragic in tales told of strangers, but this was something… different.

The slut turned her head to look at Drust, something hot and fierce in her eyes, something that wasn’t anger, something for him and him alone. She no longer shook, she no longer fought but stood tall and proud. It was if the whole world didn’t exist any longer. Mino rolled his eyes and gave a signal. The Sheriff’s hand moved, reaching for the lever that would send both onto their last journey on the longest Road.

She didn't like the stillness of the roads, it was like everything around her was holding its breath. Preparing for something great. All the while she had been walking she had tried to ignore the pit forming in her stomach. It warned her something bad was going to happen, just like she knew the spirits had taken Tasarla's horse. But she hadn't wanted to be right about that. Ignoring it had never done her any good. She started to run and despite her battered shape she kept running until she reached the entrance of Croftshire. Only when she stopped running she heard her own heart beating furiously inside her chest. She still had not seen Chavi, Edimer, V, Abe or anyone else since they left the circus grounds. Abe and her had stayed behind but he had left and ordered her to stay behind. After the attack no one had returned. She was scared........really scared. It made her knees weak and she bit her lip to stop from quivering. The possibility they could be hurt or worse, scared her to death. She would go through anything, face any danger as long as she knew they were waiting for her. Safe and sound, sitting by the fire surrounded by their homes and spinning one tall tale after the other.

When Floure entered the town, she felt an intense feeling of dread brought on by the misery spirits. It made the air heavy and she realized with a sickening clarity she had felt this before. Only then she hadn't realized it was caused by the spirits. It was a revelation she didn't even have time to register as her eyes grew wide at the scene in front of her.

There were gallows set up in the town square and the procession had already started. When she recognized Drust and Maggie, her lips parted to let out a scream but just like the roads she had walked before, there was no sound. Her hands had instinctively shot up to muffle her non existing scream and the pain from her scraped palms forced her to focus.
Floure gritted her teeth she let out a shuddering breath. No no no, this could not be happening.

She could feel the panic starting to paralyzed her, forcing her to be nothing more than a spectator to this tragedy. But she wouldn't let it. With fierce determination made her way to the front where the townspeople had gathered. She tried to hide her face behind her veil best she could. Though the shimmering fabric did just the opposite, it covered her raven hair like a curtain of stars. Floure couldn't believe what she was seeing. She needed to find the others, they could come up with a way to save them, they just had to. She didn't know what she would do if............. But where in this forsaken town were they? Then she spotted the unmistakeable tall form of Eri. Despite her feelings of trepidation a small but happy smile found its way to her face. She quietly weaved between the possessed townspeople to reach him, relief washing over her like pleasant summer breeze. The young fortune teller did not look at animal master directly not wanting to draw attention to the fact they were conversing. "What is going on?" She whispered worriedly.

(( A co-post with Igraine and myself. ))

Navid carefully distributed little chalky, hard-packed packets to the travelers, in sets of three. "Set them in water, and then on fire. After that, run away. The smoke will be dense and blinding and everyone needs to see clearly."

Amber eyes locked on to Eri, one of the few he did not pass a set of smoke capsule. "We will need to walk through the smoke. They prepped the stage but we will steal the show. I promise that your brother and sister will walk with high heads. I know because I will cut the ropes around their necks - you just have to snatch them up." Navid would ensure that with his trail spell worked into the powder he made the imps would follow those scents as opposed to the Travelers. Unless he was wrong at which point he might need to splinter from the group. Imps did not look well on those who cast spells on them or tricked them onto the wrong path.

Then his gaze turned to Myra and his smile grew. He lifted his hand and pinched her cheek like she was a child. "I saw a shadow try to cover your face again. If you feel it happening you do the same, okay? Tell it that you know you are beautiful and you never needed the mask it tried to force on you. Tell it you are going to draw the sun, the sky, and all the colorful birds you want to see.

Edimér nodded grimly, his fingers playing about the scarf tied off at his throat as Navid's words played through his head once more. There would be little mystery to any of those gathered, what people would dare walk through smoke and fire and hell and shadow for their brothers and sisters, and certainly not among these shade-infested people, but breath would be hard to come by in all the smoke. "I'll be ready - as will the horses." Here among his people, his family, at a time of such dire need, there was no pretending he could not do exactly as promised.

His eyes scanned the heads of the crowd once more, before returning to Navid. His stomach turned, sick and empty at the sight of Mino, so obviously the leader intent on murdering his own family - no. No, so obviously the thing taken up residence within him. This was the devil, the true dark leader of all the other shades here... His stomach writhed, teeth grated together in frustration and fury... When did this happen? How!? How did they miss this thing growing inside him? And Edimér cursed himself for a blind fool, knowing how this would break Chavi's heart, and Abe's too were his heart not already cracked quite through when he fell.

Drust...

No, he couldn't get sidetracked, not now. Drust and Maggie, and then to the caravan and only pray they were swift and cunning and clever enough. Floure's arrival seemed a gift from the ancestors, like an omen of good fortune, that they were destined to keep all their family together, somehow. Some way.

Navid watched from his position with a serene look on his face as if nothing was amiss. Just two more deaths he was about to witness ready to be written down on his ever growing list. His eyes only glanced at Edimér once while he waited for the signal, his axes ready to be thrown but hidden close to his body. As he watched the crowd he made note of the people he might have to kill to further the escape. While it was something he wanted to avoid, Navid also saw nothing wrong with preparing for any atrocious possibility.

Edimér easily wrapped his arm around Floure's shoulders, pulling the young lady close for a very short moment before he turned to kiss her forehead lightly, with a small, sad smile. As relieved as he was to know his Traveler sister was alive, and well, this was no place for her now. "Run back to the caravan, little Flower. Turn away now, and walk slowly and draw no attention until you're clear - and then run for all you're worth," he murmured softly, his face as close to hers as a lover. "All hell is about to break loose here, and flowers are too easily trampled. Go now."

Eri's arm fell back to his side, slipping into the crowd as he pulled the scarf up over the lower half of his face. A nearly imperceptible twitch of his dark eyes was all the signal he needed as a flash of pale cream and purest white bolted in from both sides of the gallows, Beryl's muscular body knocking the sheriff straight of his feet, even as Pearl's sharp-toothed maw wrapped about the hand about to pull that lever.

The smoke began to trickle in heavy as the dogs went after began their charge, which caused Navid to grin rather wickedly. He actually had thought of a show using axes to free some little princess or some such story and he was pleased to test the idea on a crowd. Of course he learned the key to freeing someone from their bindings was to throw at an angle so the axe hit horizontally that way it had a better chance of cutting the ropes. Navid almost panicked when the axe in his left hand escaped his grip and flew towards Nevan. He thought he threw a little too low but the satisfying sound of metal on wood told him otherwise. As fast as his feet would carry him, Navid charged up the stage and spotted Edimér doing the same in the increasingly heavy blue smoke.

Pearl sank her teeth deeper still into the arm of the sherriff, even as Beryl's teeth closed about his throat, keeping the shade-filled man's body entirely away from the lever as the pack master seemed to materialize from the crowd, hopping up onto the gallows planks. "I got you brother," he hissed in Drust's ear, pulling the dagger from its sheath and slicing swiftly at the ropes that bound his hands. In seconds he had his cloak removed and around his brother's shoulders.

As the smoke rose all around them, Eri's eyes sought out Navid, a piercing whistle cutting through the air and the sound of pounding hooves and furious shouts and screams from among the crowd.

And Navid's ears picked up when he heard Edimér's whistle just as he began to cut Maggie free. He then loosened the noose from her neck and threw it to the side so the crowd would have nothing to grab onto. "Madam if you would follow Nevan." He said as he pulled her towards his friend so they could get onto the horses as one group.

Still in an eerily calm tone, despite the noises that began to rise from the crowd, the amber eyed man added, "And your daughter has been a lovely little queen since you have been gone, although I think she dearly missed her mamma."

It was then the screams and shouts rose to near fever pitch in a matter of seconds, and Eri knew the shades wouldn't be fooled for long. He simply couldn't help the longing gaze in his eyes as he glanced toward Mino, his little brother Mino - the man who would turn every last man, woman and child in this shade-infested crowd on them in a heartbeat.

The horses Mino once loved so dearly appeared at the edge of he stage. A short, terse bark toward Beryl and Pearl had the bully dogs instantly off and away from the sheriff, leaping from the gallows stage and tearing through the surging crowd of people, disappearing into Navid's smoke. He didn't doubt Drust would have Maggie in his arms in an instant and, without a single glance back, Edimér leapt for Ruby's back. Wrapping his arms tightly around her great neck, he dug the heels of his boots into her sides as he never had before, stampeding heedless through the crowd back to the waiting caravan, the face of his precious Fae foremost in his mind's eye.

After he guided the dear innkeeper to his friend, Navid took an extra moment to jump up and snatch his axes before he sprinted over to the horses. As he leapt into the saddle his amber eyes pierced through the haze to someone who looked familiar to him. But only in the vaguest, frightening sense like looking at someone you knew who stretched chicken flesh across their face. Sure they look like they always do only a little more disturbing. In retrospect he should have made a pot of tea before the raid.

Floure ran and not for the first time did she thank the Gods and ancestors for her swift feet. She didn't look back and kept her eyes on the road. The image of Drust and Maggie surrounded by the angry crowd was burned into her mind. They were going to hang them, it was horrifying to watch. It was a painful reminder of her own sentence when they attempted to burn her alive. They villagers of Lovel had failed that day, she escaped with her life. She desperately hoped her brothers would find a way to do the same for Drust and Maggie. They had to........because she couldn't miss one of them. Her brothers and sisters, they were so dear to her.

The young fortune teller had to catch her breath leaning against one of the trees surrounding the empty circus grounds. She had never seen it like this, under these gruesome circumstances. The colorful billowing ribbons and their painted wagons. It was unsettling and it didn't fill her with the usual sense of excitement and joy. It was a sad reminder of what could have been. In Croftshire she had willed her sadness to stay buried, to keep the misery spirits from feeding off of her. Now at the sight of the abandoned circus grounds with the haunting image of Drust and Maggie and Mino possessed it all became too much for her. She felt like crawling up into a ball and hide underneath the covers.

When she reached her merrily painted wagon, Rawnie the sweet black kitty she had saved from drowning sat on the top of the little stairway. It looked at Floure with wide emerald eyes, probably asking itself where she'd been. She sat down with a deep sigh. Her mind was complete chaos, nothing made sense. The breeze caused her veil to sit lopsided on her head. It startled her slightly, she hadn't been aware she was still wearing it. She drew it down and a curtain of stars was gathered on her lap. A wistful look settled on her features as she watched the shimmering fabric. I wish I had seen this coming, maybe I could have done something,......... She started to sob, quietly at first until her body started to shake as she cried soundlessly. She didn't try to hold it in like she'd done many times before. She didn't even feel Rawnie getting on her lap. The kitty started to lick away to tears on her face, the gesture was so sweet and unexpected that it made her sob even harder. Her crying was the only sign that there was someone at the caravan.

I don’t remember all that happened that day. There was so much smoke, so much anger and so much fear. The air was so thick I thought I might choke. The imps, they fed well I am certain. But it seems fitting, a last meal as it were. I remember the sight of my mother, limp in the arms of Drust, the man who would be my second father. I flew to her, wanting to touch her, to reassure myself that the center of my world was whole. It is funny how you never appreciate a thing until it is nearly taken from you. I am certain such a revelation was well beyond my young mind, but now looking back on it I see it clearly, like I see little else. Her golden hair was soot-streaked and her face battered and bruised but somehow more beautiful for it. As if her very mortality, her fragility was writing in the bruising. Always so hale, always so sturdy it was a pain to see her so. But she opened her eyes long enough to call my name and I knew then, that all would be all right. It was just as well.

The family gathered, I recall that. I saw the little woman who smelled of baking and herbs throw herself at my consort and I saw her tiny arms tighten around his neck like she would never let go. I saw the tears that filled her eyes but I also saw the indomitable strength in her eyes. I understood then that for all that she was small, I would never meet anyone with a greater gravity, a stronger core than this tiny little woman. I heard the weeping of Floure and watched as she found comfort in a small kitten and just as my magician started to approach her I saw that there was a new problem.

Hard on the heels of the others were the shadows, and at the heart of the shadows was Mino. He hadn’t made an impression on me, I will admit. He was but one more scrap of colored fabric in on a motley’s raiment. There were so many bright burning flames about the caravan that a slender youth who did nothing to make himself stand out held no interest for me. I wish I had known him. Not for who he became, but for the loss and sadness that my family showed in the wake of his death. Their grief more than anything I witnessed spoke volumes about him as a person.

He strode at the heart of the darkness with a gait that was not that of a young man and he howled and cursed. Some of his words seemed to lance right through Drust and I watched as even in sleep, my mother’s arms tighten around his neck. I moved to step in front of her, between them and this lanky-shadow ridden creature. A hand stopped me and I turned to look and saw it was Luca, fear but stubborn determination in his eyes. He took his job as my protector very seriously, even then. Sweet boy. He held me back and I was lost in the volley of words that came next. Accusations, from Mino, from the thing inside him, explanations and gloating. This had been planned, Mino had been born for this. Born and then lost.

His mother had been possessed it turned out, possessed while carrying him. And the Imp who had been in his birth-father at the time of conception had been looking to recreate him since Abe had come and taken the mother, and Mino away. Abe knew some of this, though he would not speak of it and no one would press the big man who never fully recovered from his spell that day. It seemed Traveler blood was necessary to make a Vessel that would hold a spirit. Not be possessed, this was deeper, this was an un-fixable joining. That was the tragedy.

But none of this sank in that day. I only knew I was afraid and angry and I wanted to spit and kick and Luca was stopping me. I struggled and fought and something in my actions sparked the conflagration that nearly consumed us all, much to my shame.

The Imps, already keyed up from their feast slipped from Mino’s control and surged forward. They were strong, well fed and able to manifest enough to be a threat. Tethered to their master, the unnatural Mino they had even more power. But it wasn’t enough. They could not reach us and slammed into something like a wall around the tight cluster of Travelers. I like to think it was Love that stopped them. The love of the couples, the love of the family, of the animals. But it might have been runes written by my Magician, or the spells and potions of the exhausted looking Navid. I don’t know, I don’t suppose it mattered, they were repelled.

All of them, except for Mino. He went right through. Furious, maddened and beyond control he charged. Straight towards Drust, straight towards my Mama.

That’s when things got fuzzy for me. I don’t know what happened, I just saw red, lots of red and when I woke up we were very far down the road and I had bandages on my hands and wrist. The clothing I wore was nowhere to be found and I was in a nightgown of Chavi’s, wrapped up in a small cot in Drust’s wagon.

For a long time, People would smile at me, but there was something wary in their eyes. They wouldn’t speak of that day, and if pressed they would say that darkness was destroyed by love, pure and simple. I didn’t buy it, not really. Not even Luca would tell me and I tormented the poor boy for a long, long time about it. It was finally Myra who gave me the answers, though not in words. It was a bit deplorable really, but I was curious and more than a little nosy. When she visited once, years later, I found her book and though I was not looking for answers in it, I found them. It was full of color and light, beautiful things. But seeded among the light were a few portraits of darkness. You see, Myra was never free, she lived with the dark for the rest of her life and sometimes she had to let it out on the page to keep herself safe, in control.

It was in one page of darkness that I found the answer. A small little Rabbit crowned with barberries standing up before a wolf made of darkness with a stolen knife in her paw. The red on that page matched all the red in my darkest dreams. I understood and ancestors forgive me, it makes me smile.