Pale: 4.10 - Avery

Avery

They cleaned up the workshop, squeegeeing the floor, then ducked outside into the warmer outdoors.  The wind was blowing strong, carrying small leaves and bits through the air.

Whatever way they traveled, they’d be jumping from this into something dangerous or harsh.

Zed and Eloise were talking, a little way away from the door.

“How are you feeling, Verona?” Avery asked.  She picked up the crying doll, which was holding an opossum-form Snowdrop, and the doll’s legs kicked at the air.

“‘Cause we don’t have a lot of time if we’re going to stay on schedule, and we should think carefully about the route we take. If you’re emotionally not great, we might want to avoid the Ruins.”

“You want to do the Paths?” Lucy asked.

Avery shrugged, making a face.  “Kinda?  I’m more familiar with them.”

She set the doll down.  It wobbled, then resumed petting Snowdrop.

Lucy raised a hand in a wave or signal to Zed.  He shifted position, going from leaning against the wall to walking toward them, still chatting with Eloise, who followed.

“I think we’re only really getting started.  We need to head back to check on things,” Avery told him.  “We’ve got to figure out a way there and back.”

“Ideally we head out tonight and come back tomorrow,” Verona said.

“She doesn’t want to miss classes,” Lucy clarified.

“Technomancy options lean on the tools we have available.  Most often, we have tech at the departure point and tech at the arrival point.  Or we’re departing to a tech-created place.”

“We were thinking about other options,” Avery said.  “Do you have the details on those Paths?”

“On my phone, yeah.  I’ll mail them to you.”

“There are ways to use enchantress techniques to travel quickly,” Eloise said, “but they’re costly, and they require you to have a connection to the destination.”

“We have a connection to there,” Lucy said.

“But not from there back to here,” Avery said, thumbing through her phone to her email, while Zed did the same.

“We could use the Warrens, apparently, but it’s dangerous,” Lucy noted.

“A walk through the bad part of town, metaphorically speaking,” Eloise said.  “I wouldn’t associate with goblins if I could help it.”

“There’s a simplicity to the Warrens,” Zed noted.  “Yes, you might get held up, ambushed, mobbed, or exposed to some really unpleasant things, but if you’re strong, if you can fight, and if you can hold your nose, then there’s worse.  Just make sure you know what paths to take, so you don’t get into the territory of something especially awful.”

“Paths might be better,” Avery said.  “I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but…”

“You’re a bit of a broken record, even if you don’t mean to be,” Verona said.

“I was looking up the Paths, to try to figure that stuff out,” Zed told them.  “Since it’s related to you and I like to know who and what I’m dealing with.  Our curriculum doesn’t delve into that stuff, here.  It’s interesting.”

“Any input?” Avery asked.  “Insights?  Tips?”

“They used to think of it as dream-walking.  Reading about some of the places, I can see it.  There’s something a bit dreamlike or unmoored about it, which is pretty different from the technomancy stuff.  Places so far removed from reality that only a few key things are really locked in.  Rules, waypoints, puzzles, items.  The rest of it gets filled in or changed, depending.  There’s some really dangerous stuff out there, if you aren’t careful.”

“I kind of know,” Avery said.  The email came through.  She gave Zed a thumbs up without looking up at her phone.

“It’s hard to harness, which might be why relatively few really do the Finder stuff.  If you try to bind a location or tap a particular subsystem for power, you might end up giving it so much form and function that it stops being part of the Paths.  If it even works.  Sometimes you pick up so much other attached crap that you can’t control outcomes.  A lot of the mapping and stuff that gets done is finding out which places can avoid being bogged down and dragged back down to ‘reality’, which places aren’t going to drift away and disconnect from everything while you’re walking it, which places are safe… it’s a long list of qualifiers.”

“They sent me three locations?”

“More than they promised, but they left out some details.  They want you to be in touch, communicate with them, give them what you promised about the Forest thing.”

Avery nodded.  “Works.”

“What are our options?” Lucy asked.

“The Amaranthine Conundrum.  Everything’s purple.  Purple place balanced on a purple animal’s back.  We’d have to paint ourselves to blend in,” Avery said.

“Doable with glamour,” Verona said.

“The place was used as a prison for some Others that aren’t strong enough to break free, but are tricky or problematic.  Stuff like close this one door, another two open.  Move an object and doors disappear, and things move, accordingly.  They filled it up, then sold the instructions for visiting, with specific instructions.  Looks straightforward.”

“What’s the danger?” Lucy asked.  “You let something out because you dropped a penny?”

Avery scrolled through her phone, went too far, and went back.  “Or you corner yourself, adjusting the wrong thing, and there’s no door you can open without letting something out or closing essential doors further on.  Or the last person to pass through didn’t follow the exact sequence.  And there’s some times when the animal that the place is balanced on will take a step and it makes doors swing open and closed.”

“And the time limit,” Zed remarked.

“Yeah.  After a set time, a ‘clod’ comes tearing through.”

“Clawed?” Verona asked.  “C-L-A-W-E-?”

“C-L-O-D.  Starting from downstairs, near the entry point, closes all the doors, puts everything away.  Either locks you in, or catches you and breaks you.  You can’t die or starve to death in there because the spirits essential for those things can’t navigate the Conundrum.  So it breaks your arms, legs, face, back, whatever, and then you kinda lie there.  There’s instructions for using some of the Clodded people from previous attempts to navigate or get hints.  One in the kitchen, two in the bedroom, one on the back path.”

“Yeah, let’s not do that,” Lucy said.  “For all those reasons.”

“I’m not exactly keen either,” Avery said.  “Even if it looks like it’s really clearly outlined.  I’m not even sure how it works if we go in as a group.  Okay.”

“Let’s not.  Next?”

“Mug Mile.  The footpath is heads and faces, from a bunch of people who are all crammed in, shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest, back to back.  You walk on their up-turned faces.  There’s a system for timing it.  Apparently a redecorating crew sits a certain distance up the path, and a crew sits behind. You don’t want to get redecorated, so you have to stay between the crews.”

“I like how casually that’s said,” Verona said.  “Get redecorated.”

“A lot of the time you get Lost.  Other times, you might get transformed.  Depending on the crews, a lot changes.  One puts masks on every face and paints the walls red.  The masked faces try to bite you while you walk.  Another washes the walls and drowns a lot of the faces, giving you really limited time because the water level rises faster if you’re far enough back.”

“I don’t know why you like these,” Lucy said.  “I get crazy anxiety imagining this.”

“There are a few spots where you can ask certain faces certain questions.  The treatments of the redecorating crews change how they behave.  If you can deal with the hazards and bystanders… it looks like Mug Mile has a lot of bystanders, huh.”

“If you can deal with them then what?” Lucy asked.

“It looks pretty straightforward.  Pick a good decorating crew to follow behind that you can deal with, keep an eye out for certain hostile Lost…”

“You call this straightforward?” Lucy asked.

“It looks like the main thing you get from Mug Mile is answers.  On the washed mile, following the washing crew, there’s one face that tells you secrets about other Paths, and a face that gives you answers to things you want to know… but it looks like it isn’t really specific, it rambles off answers to questions big and small at random, and you don’t have long before the next redecorating crew catches up, or the water level gets to be too high.”

Verona nodded.  “So, to me, clear and obvious answer is that you gotta achieve inner peace, answer all of life’s questions, except for one, and then pay it a visit.”

Zed snorted.  “Whatever route you take to be that enlightened, you’re better off sticking with it instead of flinging yourself at that place and walking on a mile of faces to get your answer.”

“How dangerous are the Lost there?” Lucy asked.  “More or less than goblins?”

“You may be underestimating goblins,” Eloise said.

“There’s fewer of them,” Avery said.  “There’s a spinster who pricks you with her needle, and then in an eyeblink, your eyes and all the holes in your body get stitched closed.  The straggler is this person from the redecorating crew who you can’t help but bump into as you enter the Path, who can never catch up to his team.  He mostly tries to mess with you and redecorate you while running to catch up.  Then a bunch of other ‘regulars’ who pop up.  They’re sorta hidden in the crowd, which is I guess why the instructions give really clear descriptions.”

“I can’t help but notice the word ‘running’ in there,” Verona said.

“Looks like it’s a mile-long jog, with a rough five mile an hour pace set by the redecorating crews before and after.  On uneven, mushy, moving ground.  That sounds hard.”

“The Shining Bridge.  Apparently it either takes you from our world to an adjacent reality, or an adjacent reality to our world.”

“Not exactly what you’re looking to do,” Zed said.

“Share the grisly details,” Lucy said.

“Light in that area of the Path is elastic and tactile, at least for visitors.  There are a few paths to take, but they recommend the one where you tightrope-walk on the thin beams of light.  It’s apparently very kid-friendly, except for the part where you kinda have to get there by going through some scarier places, or it dumps you in one of those scary places, and there’s always some Lost hanging around.”

“Tightrope walking is kid friendly?” Lucy asked, unimpressed.

“Supposedly!  If you don’t freeze up halfway and need rescuing.”

“How high up is it?” Lucy asked.

“Apparently there’s no ground or anything below.  If you fall enough, you’re Lost, but there’s enough stuff to grab onto or touch on your way down that that almost never happens, and if you know some tricks you can transition to other Paths.  I guess that’s part of what Ed would share if I asked for more details.”

Lucy frowned.  Avery showed her the text on her phone, indicating that bit about transitions and grabbing things.

“We could make that plan B,” Verona said.

“Or plan G,” Lucy said.  “Because there’s a bunch of other options I’d rather try.”

“Want a ride?” Zed asked.

Lucy shook her head.  “It’s a five hour drive, five hours back, and that doesn’t leave much time to do what we need to do, especially considering it’d be the middle of the night.”

“Thanks though,” Avery said.

“We have, what?” Verona asked, counting for a second.  “Sixteen, seventeen hours before morning classes start?”

“You may be crazy, wanting to do this,” Avery said.

“Having this to look forward to is staving off the crazy,” Verona said.  “Ruins?”

“Don’t know the good ways of traveling.  Jessica did say it’s hard,” Avery said.  “And I don’t want to bother her.  Maybe on a better day, or after we establish more of a rapport…”

“Oh hon,” Eloise cut in.  “If you’re talking about Jessica Casabien, there won’t really be better days.”

“Or much rapport,” Zed told them.  “Let me go talk to her.  I’ll see about getting her to help you guys, yeah?  And maybe you return the favor later.  You may owe her too, though.  You probably will.”

“Okay.  Sure, thanks,” Avery said.  She frowned, though.  It felt like this kind of imposition or awkwardness would hurt them in the long run.

“Appreciated,” Lucy said.

“I should get back to my class work,” Eloise said.  “Make sure you clean the diagram you drew.”

Eloise left.  Verona and Lucy put their bags down, and began sorting through the contents.

“I can run back to the room if you need me to grab something.”

“We might need clothing for rough weather,” Lucy said.  “Remember the simulation?  Deeper Ruins?”

“I hate that I missed that,” Verona said.

Avery nodded.  “I don’t think most raincoats will really save you though.  You’d need something like Jessica’s.”

“Or something like people wear on a fishing boat, with storms at sea and waves slopping in over the top of the ship,” Lucy mused.

Avery stretched, arm overhead, hand at her elbow, pulling.  She walked over a bit, turned around, and saw the doll was still at work.

“Tell us if the doll starts to give you a bald spot or whatever, Snow.”

Snowdrop made clicking sounds and turned over.

“We should maybe turn the doll off.  We’re powerful, but we’re paying a steady cost to that thing to keep it running,” Verona said.  “And that leaves us with a bit of our Selves hollowed out, right before we’re going to the Ruins?  Maybe?”

Snowdrop perked up at that.  She made noises, trying to sit upright while the doll’s hand pressed her head down with each press.

“I think she’s right, Snowdrop,” Avery said.

Snowdrop turned human, sweeping the doll up and hugging her.  The doll’s legs kicked, arms groping stiffly out in front of her.

“That,” Snowdrop said, as she hugged the doll tight, “is a very sensible idea.”

“I know we can’t keep her around forever.  She’s a drain, and what happened to that other kid with a Z-name makes it really clear it’s just not worth it.”

“Can you please not be so difficult, Snow?” Avery asked.

“I’m a big girl, I can deal with it.  I’m not lonely or anything, being so far from my friend Cherry.  I’m very mature, you see.  Too mature for dolls.”

“C’mon, Snowdrop.  If everything goes right, you should get an opportunity to visit your friends.”

“Hey, opossum girl,” Verona said.  “C’mere.”

“I’m okay with this.  I’m obedient like a dog,” Snowdrop said.

“Don’t be grumpy, please,” Avery said.  “I thought the doll would be a neat little thing, not something to fight over.”

“C’mon,” Verona said.

Snowdrop sighed, and walked over to Verona, who hugged her.  Verona stroked her head with one hand.

“You can go animal if you want,” Verona said.  “Full body pets instead of head pets.”

“Sure.”  Snowdrop’s voice was muffled by Verona’s front.  “More comfortable than being hugged like this.  I’ll do that.  Soon.”

“I think you might be spoiled, Snowdrop,” Lucy said.

“Yes.  Sufficiently spoiled,” Snowdrop said, muffled.  One of her dangling arms held the doll, which was losing its hair as the eyepatch slipped.  Avery dropped to one knee on the grass to fix it.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket.  She checked it.

“Message from Zed,” she reported.  “Jessica’s grabbing stuff.  Zed says we should get the same things, if we can.  Raincoats.”

“I didn’t bring one,” Verona said.  “Didn’t cross my mind.”

“I have a moisture wicking hooded top,” Lucy said.

“I’m going to go,” Avery said.  “Watch Snow?”

“I’ll come,” Lucy said.

The notes came in one by one as they jogged over to their room.  A list of things.

They were going to the Ruins.  Cool.

Avery glanced at Lucy, and used her Sight.

She could see Lucy’s hair, apparently a barometer for how Lucy was doing, and it was a bit darker, touched with pink closer to the edges, not so much along its length.

“We’re a bit drained,” Avery noted.

“Good to know.  That’s from my hair?” Lucy huffed.

“Yeah.”  Avery wasn’t really out of breath, but Lucy was.  She’d have to keep that in mind, when it came to her friends and whether they were keeping up.  “I was wondering about that.”

“The pink might be a Verona thing.”

“Is that, like, okay, or is it weird, or…?  I know the hair’s a touchy thing.”

“Not touchy, exactly.  It’s a personal thing, and people like to intrude on a lot.”

Though it was possible that this particular journey might require things other than strong legs.

More items appeared, a series of one-word texts.  Flashlight.  Rope.

“Lucy, can you write some stuff for the Brownies?  We’ll see if they can supply it.  Flashlight and rope.  Extra raincoat.”

They reached their room, and Lucy went straight to the desk.  Avery had her own things.  Her jacket, her medical kit.  There was a multitool…

“Personal memento,” Avery said.  “Nonmagic.”

“Objects we awoke with should work, except I enchanted my knife.  I’m not sure where Verona’s scissors are at.  She purified them, kind of.  I forget the word.”

“I think that’d be fine, if she didn’t jam something into them.”

“Can’t use my knife.  Umm.  Well, since you reminded me,” Lucy said, as she dropped off the paper at the door flap.  She went to the foot of her bed, grabbed her makeup case, unlatched it, and removed a section.  Avery tilted her head to see.  There were some foreign coins, beads, and bits of paper in the bottom, beneath the plastic insert.

“I’ve had this since I was ten.  Verona gave me this.” Lucy took out a creased piece of paper.  It had a cartoon drawing of Lucy with pink hair and Verona, done up in the style of a cartoon Avery remembered seeing but couldn’t name.  Cute.  There was something that looked like alien language all over the rest of the page.

“She did this really complex, artistic cipher, just handed this to me when I was leaving her place after a weekend visit.  I asked about the pink hair, and she said something about how it seemed right.  We used the cipher twice, then she seemed to forget about it.  Might’ve been too hard to do.”

Avery felt a pang of annoyance, or… not annoyance.  Not hurt.  She groped for the feeling.

She wished they’d all been friends, back then.  That she could be in that picture.  Which wasn’t fair or sensible, but the feeling stuck.

The phone vibrated.  “Extra belt.  Hand towel.”

“Right,” Lucy said, putting some with the stuff they’d accumulated.  “Did you get along with Jessica after I was kicked out of class?” Lucy asked.

“Reasonably.  I feel like I stepped in something and she got sorta cold.  When I talked about working together, I think I made a pretty good pitch.  I feel like if I could have kept on building that sorta relationship, we could build that rapport or whatever, that Zed says is impossible.”

“It might just be that Zed is right, and Jessica’s got too much going on to be friends with a bunch of girls three years younger than her.”

Avery frowned.  “It feels like for most of my life, it’s been this constant… I dunno.  Like, if I’d been born in slightly different circumstances, a bunch of stuff would’ve lined up right.  Soap.”

“I’ve got soap.  Different stuff like?”

“Like if I’d been born a bit older, or a bit younger, I could’ve connected to my siblings better.  If I was born a boy, I wouldn’t have gotten the same kind of flack for enjoying sports.  If I was born the next town over then I would’ve been able to see Olivia more often.  If my family owned a house on the other side of the river, I could’ve maybe been friends with you two.”

“That’s a lot of could’ves.”

“It just feels like there’s a lot, y’know?  You know that Chinese thing, death by a thousand cuts?  It’s like that, but it’s more like a thousand nots.  I’m not old enough to really be friends with Jessica, and she just radiates cool to me.”

“I sort of know what you mean,” Lucy said.  She reached over and turned Avery’s phone.  “Salt.”

“Sorry.  Let myself get distracted.”  Avery got a pen, went to the door, and grabbed the things that the Brownies had put outside.  She wrote down ‘salt’ on a piece of paper and put it in the door flap, before closing the door.

“I do know.  It’s not nots, for me.  Because I love my mom and Booker too much to give up this life.  I don’t know if I love myself.  I think it changes based on the day, and how recently it was that someone was a dick to me.  But I don’t think I’d give up my face, or age up, or age down, or do anything to change that.”

“I love my family, but I think if things shifted and my life got shuffled just a bit, I’d still love them, but things would fit better,” Avery said.

“Yeah,” Lucy said, opening the door.  She got something that looked like a pepper mill, as long as her arm, glass, with salt within.  She shrugged and put it in her bag, the top sticking out.

“I dunno,” Avery said.

“You’re part of our trio.  Learning magic, seeing a side of the world I don’t think a lot of people even get into.  What, one in a thousand people are practitioners?  One in ten thousand?  Another handful of those ten thousand are Aware, to some degree?  Maybe this is the only ‘fit’ where you could be our friend and be a part of all of this.”

“That’s… good point.  Hmm.  I’m not sure how good an idea it is to be opening up like this when we’re going to the Ruins, which are supposed to be rougher, somehow.”

“We’re doing a lot of things we’re not supposed to be doing.  But I’d rather do the Ruins with a guide and slight handicap than walk on tightropes made of light or navigate some puzzle house on a giant purple turtle’s back.”

“Huh,” Avery said.  “I was imagining a giant elephant.”

Avery checked her phone.  “They’re heading to the front of the school.”

“I think we’re reasonably set, given the list,” Lucy said.  She grabbed her jacket, putting it on, where Avery had tied hers around her waist.

“We’re giving Jessica lots of power in the coming negotiation,” Lucy said.  “I know you’re eager to go to the Ruins, but don’t agree to anything too ridiculous.”

“It’s not that I’m eager to go there.  We’ve been there.  But I want to figure it out.  I want to go to other places,” Avery said.  “Let’s jog?”

Lucy huffed, then picked up the pace.

It looked like the class session they’d left was ending, and kids were filing out, heading down toward their rooms, to the student center, and a bunch of other places.

The two of them took the other door, avoiding the crowd.

By the time they were at the front of the school, some students had left, and were talking with Jessica, Zed, Verona, and Snowdrop.

“She’s still petting Snowdrop,” Avery murmured, as they walked over.

“I think Verona needs to pet Snowdrop more than Snowdrop wants to be pet,” Lucy answered.

“Is it because it’s her dad, and he’s not great, or is it because of the situation, or…?”

“I think anyone’s going to worry if their parent gets sick.  Whatever their parent is like.  Is it a problem?  Is Snowdrop ‘yours’?”

Avery’s eyes widened.  She shook her head.  “She’s her own self.  It’s actually… I’m really glad that she was arguing over the doll thing.  I worry about how much like… she’s an actual person, and I’m responsible for her, and how much of me is in her, and is she compelled to be my friend, like you suggested with Nina, the librarian, and Zed?”

“So even if I’m not one hundred percent great with her being as friendly with some of the goblins as she’s been… I’ll deal.  Because it lets her be her own self with her own preferences.  If she wants to be grumpy about the petting doll, same thing.”

“We really can’t afford to pay to keep that thing active forever.”

“I know.  But if she wants us to, that’s cool.”

There was more to say, but they were getting closer to the people leaving out the front doors, and to the group of Zed, Jessica, Snowdrop, and Verona.  Avery noted the big bucket of chalk by Jessica’s foot.

“You guys are in a rush, and Jessica doesn’t want to wait, so here’s the deal,” Zed said, as they got close enough.  The kids who’d stopped to talk left.  “She can only take you there.  She’s not going to head there tomorrow morning, pick you up, and come back.”

“Damn,” Lucy muttered.  “We might have to miss the morning class after all.”

“Or,” Verona said.  “Path.”

“Ronnie…” Lucy shook her head.

“There’s more,” Zed told them.

“You pay the entry fee,” Jessica told them.  “We need to dive deep if we’re going to be able to cross.  The Ruins map out emotions, emotional imprints, and the wilderness is hard to cross because there isn’t much.”

“What happens when we go deep?” Avery asked.

“I’ll tell you if you agree.  I’m sharing knowledge.”

“That’s my cue to go.  Be nice to them.  Brie owes them a lot for compromising, and I’m attached to Brie.”

Jessica didn’t respond, watching while Zed walked off.

“You said you’d help me look,” Jessica said.

“I can try,” Avery said.

“Then make me a promise.  You’ll make at least two more trips to the Ruins.  I’ll tell you what to keep an eye out for.  You’ll make a concerted effort to look, feel, and search for my cousin, while you’re there.”

“We three, between us, will,” Lucy said, “if that’s alright?”

“I figured it’d be her, but I don’t care.  Sure,” Jessica said.

Lucy nodded.  Avery did too.

“I think we’re okay with this?” Verona asked.  “Okay.”

“We, the Kennet trio, will make a genuine attempt to investigate on your behalf, three times in total, including this trip you’re taking us on tonight, provided the entry fee is reasonable, we’ll pay that entry fee, in exchange for you giving us safe passage, educating us in what to watch for, treating us in a fair and sane way, and your respecting of the borders and rules of Kennet, as we outline them.”

Gosh, Lucy was good at covering the bases when it came to stuff like that.  Avery saw Verona smile for maybe the first time since the phone call.  Probably thinking the same thing.

“Safe passage will have to include you putting in enough effort.”

“To respect the borders, I’ll drop you off, then turn back and do my own explorations, since you’ve paid the fee.”

“Which is?” Lucy asked.

“Not sharing details of my practice unless you’re on board.  Pledge.”

“I pledge,” Lucy said.

Avery and Verona echoed her.

“The way I do it, it’s releasing an echo, then traveling to it.  Depending, you can lose some of the impact of the scene, moment, or memory.  But it has to be a strong feeling,” Jessica said.

“Each of you pick a memory with very strong emotion associated with it.  A key moment that can leave an impression.  Ideally, you feel something, dwelling on it right here and right now.  It might be visible or viewable, depending on the reception, so I wouldn’t pick anything you don’t want anyone to see.  But make it good.  If you hold back and it’s not enough to get us through, I’ll draw up the circle.”

Jessica lifted the bucket of chalk, then walked off in the direction of the parking lot.

“I don’t know if my emotions are strong enough,” Verona said.

“I think they are,” Lucy said.

“I don’t know which are.  She’s asking us to think of something that makes us feel something tangible just remembering it?  I don’t know if I feel anything tangible in the moments when bad stuff happens.”

“You do, but… you don’t always remember them that great.  It’s like you’re great at forgetting to file those memories away.”

“Which is a problem,” Verona said.  “Because I need one.”

“Happy memories?” Avery asked.

“Coming to school here?” Lucy prompted.

“It’s not unhappy at all, but I don’t know if I can put my finger on it as a feeling.”

“Shock, surprise?  Getting bad news?  Report cards?” Lucy asked.

“Why are those thoughts strung together in your head?” Verona asked.  “I’m not that bad a student.”

“Sadness?  A feeling of loss?”

“Like getting to eat the best treat ever,” Snowdrop suggested.

Verona shook her head.  “The feelings that get to me are… it’s like, going home, and hating going home, because I know my dad’s going to be in a mood, right?  But it’s… it’s not a moment.  It’s this wide feeling that goes all over the place.  Anything that wide doesn’t have anything specific, and anything else gets drowned out.”

“I wonder if I’m broken,” Verona mused.

“I don’t think you are,” Avery told her.

“Jessica’s waving us over.  Got all our stuff?” Lucy asked.  “We can ask for tips.”

“She probably won’t give us any,” Avery said.  “If we fail her, she’ll just leave, I’m guessing.”

“Maybe,” Lucy replied.

Verona took the stuff of hers that Lucy had packed, slinging the Brownie-given black raincoat over one shoulder.  Lucy hefted her bag, and Snowdrop dropped into opossum form before returning to human, now wearing her ‘P.O.S.’ possum coat, hood up.  Both Verona and Lucy donned cape, hat, and mask.  Verona transformed her hat into a cap, then pulled the hood over it to protect it.

Avery pulled her jacket on, hood up, wrapped her shoulders with the cape, pulled on her bag, and did up the straps to secure it.  Multi-tool in one pocket, charm bracelet on.  Mask, no hat, cape.

It was a bit much, but she was pretty sure the ghosts and stuff wouldn’t care.

“Inside the circle,” Jessica said.  The circle was a fairly simple one, with a crescent moon inside it, teardrops arranged in a partial circle within the ‘c’ of the crescent.

A few bystanders approached.  Jessica held out a hand, telling them to stop before they got too close.

“Vultures,” Jessica muttered.  “Decided?”

“Is this all of us needing a really good echo to send out, or are you wanting us to add up to one really good echo?” Lucy asked.

“The latter.  But the deeper we can dive, the faster the trip will be and the easier the look.”

“Okay,” Lucy said.  “I hope mine and Avery’s is good enough, then.”

“Here,” Jessica said.  She handed each of them a folded up bit of paper.  It looked like she’d had it for a while, because the edges were more rounded-off by wear than crisp.

It was a picture of a boy, younger than Avery had expected, shirtless and grungy, with long hair like a girl’s.

“Key things to look for.  He’s outdoors.  There’s an old boat, painted blue, that’s seen better days.  Dinged, paint peeling.  Two men who look like businessmen.  I can’t give you clear descriptions, because he didn’t pick up any.”

“We’re looking for a memory?”

“It’ll be a scene.  Depending on depth, pattern, and placement, it may be in focus, partial, or knit to something else.  A plastic fishing net, not very long, it can be red, green, or blue, dense mesh.  A dog with mismatched eyes, barking.”

“What happened?” Avery asked.  “I mean, if it helps us place it?”

“If one of yours hurts one of yours, your authorities handle it, of course.  If one of yours hurts one of ours, someone on the reserve, your authorities tend to quote-unquote ‘handle’ it.  A slap on the wrist, too often.  Or probation, or bail.  If one of ours hurts one of ours, our authorities are allowed to handle it, usually, depending on how and where, and if there’s any history of crime outside the reserve.  If there is crime outside, we get little cooperation, no resources.  And if one of ours hurts one of yours?”

“He got in trouble?” Lucy asked.

“He found a toy by a lakeside.  We share, in our community, food when we have it, resources, help.  Toys.  He was young enough he didn’t think things through when he took it.  The toy, a drone, was owned by someone who was technically trespassing, and it was expensive.  Ontario police took him away for theft, and the system swallowed him up.  We had to call, search, and fight to get even basic information on where he was being kept and what was happening.  The charges were eventually dropped, after far too long.  He came back to us two years older with something missing.”

“I’m sorry,” Avery said.

“Don’t.  Don’t waste your breath, because I don’t care.  Just look, and that’s good enough.”

“Drone, being dragged away, are those possible things to look for?” Lucy asked.

“When I find glimpses or pieces, the drone isn’t there.  It didn’t stick with him.  He didn’t care that much about it.  He didn’t even have the controller to fly it.  He thought it was neat.”

“Why dedicate your life to this?”

“Because he’s family.  Because there’s nobody else who can and will do this.  If I don’t, then who will?”

“Personal items out.”

“We thought maybe your scissors,” Lucy told Verona.

Verona pulled out the scissors.  Lucy had the old cipher and drawing, which got a smile and a silent ‘wow’ out of Verona.  Avery had her photo of herself at the rink.  Trying to smile.

Jessica shook out her raincoat, and donned it.  She wasn’t carrying a lot of stuff.  She reached into a pocket, pulled out a vial of water, and began to pour.  “Who’s first?”

“I can, since this was kinda my idea,” Avery said.

“Focus on the memory.  Push through, push out.  As it separates, give it the object.  Keep your hand held out, palm up.”

“Same for the others.”

“Do your best,” Lucy told Verona.

Jessica said something in what Avery presumed was Ojibwe, and the words flowed, almost like she was conversing or giving a monologue.

Water sprayed up from the diagram’s edges, like from a thousand water pistols.  The droplets were angled so they shot toward them at a slight angle, raining down around them.

The water fell, then kept falling.  The geysers became a waterfall, a wall of falling water that encircled them.  The water began to pool around their feet, then rose in level.

“Like this, we could enter the shallow parts of the Ruins.  But that won’t do,” Jessica said.  She looked at Avery.

Avery concentrated.  Thinking back to that night.

“Number six!” the coach hollered.  “Skates on!”

Avery was stirred from thought.  She hurried over, dropping her bag by the bench.  There was no locker room, they came geared up and pulled on the essentials at the benches by the ice.  Families and people from all over who were desperate for attention had converged here.

“We’ll huddle while you get ready,” the coach said.

The time for a huddle was weeks ago.  She barely recognized her own teammates.  Their teammates from Tripoli had decided to stay in their town for practices.  They’d been a disorganized mess when grouping together for the last two games, unmotivated, depressed.  Their best teammates had gone to Swanson.

Olivia had gone to Swanson.

Avery bent over, pulling off her boots and pulling on her skates.  One of the girls from Tripoli handed her a metal hook for getting the laces tighter.  Tugging, looking over, she could see Olivia.  Tan, with hair almost lighter than her skin, fully geared up in her pads.

“I won’t give you a long pre-game speech.  The Seabirds are a good team.  Tonight will be good competition, with lots of room to grow and learn.  However tonight goes, focus on that.  Be your best self.”

We’re going to lose and you can’t pretend it’s different.

It sucked.  It sucked as much as anything had sucked in recent memory, and a lot of things had sucked, recently.

She glanced out toward the crowd and saw her family.  Rowan and Sheridan had been vocally clear that they didn’t want to come, but according to mom and dad, this was Avery’s thing.  Which Avery interpreted to Declan getting the television and game console for hours every day, Sheridan and the others got the television every night.  Avery got a few hockey games a year, with reluctant attendance and sidelong jabs from her siblings.

Mom and dad had been trying.  Ms. Hardy had talked to them, and they’d stepped up after an initial panic.  Kind of.  They’d pushed hard for this.  Kept Grumble from putting the news on for the five minute drive over.

“Play your hardest.  Last game of the season.  Marcia, do you need help with your skates?”

Oh my god, some of these guys don’t know how to put their skates on properly.

The Seabirds were already on the ice, leaning over the door to listen to their coach.

Avery finished lacing up.  She pulled on glove, helmet, and grabbed her stick.  She had to wait for teammates who were taking their sweet time getting on the ice, stumping forward with two steps on the rubber mat, waiting, stumping forward another two steps.

The crowd was buzzing.  Many of her classmates were in the stands.  The boys.  The Dancers, who had probably been locked in as a group since Avery had been young enough to wet her overalls in Kindergarten.

Finally, finally, she got to put skate to ice.

She glided forward, skate grazing ice, then picked up speed.  She did some quick, tight laps, while her teammates got themselves figured out.

This was the part she was good at.  The one thing in life she was good at.  It made her heart lighter, when it had so many other reasons to feel heavy.

She’d give her all, she decided, as the faces in her peripheral vision blurred.

She couldn’t help her team to win.  That was hopeless, but she’d work with them as much as she was able when they’d barely practiced.  She’d try to manage some good moments.  Show off for Miss Hardy.

The whistle blew.  Avery stopped, sharp, then skated over.  She glanced at her teacher, who was sitting with friends.

So pretty.  So cool.  Something else to make Avery’s heart lighter when there was nothing else.

You saved me.  Maybe I can give you a bit better of a night by giving you reasons to cheer for me.  She settled into position.  Right wing.  Stick touched ice.

The puck was dropped.  Melissa faced off against Olivia, sticks clashing.  Olivia won.

Avery turned, flanking Olivia, matching her in speed.

Karci flubbed it, letting Olivia by.

Avery pushed forward, getting out ahead of her old best friend.  Olivia’s eyes met hers, maybe for the first time since she’d gone over to Swanson.  Olivia passed to a teammate.

Avery pushed harder, slipping by, chasing the puck, mindful of the possible pass back to Olivia.  She flew straight to Olivia’s teammate, saw the hesitation, and knew she had an opportunity.

Sticks clashed, she claimed the puck, turned to put her body between it and Olivia’s teammate, and pushed off, preparing to circle around her own net.  She’d get her bearings-

Olivia slammed into her, driving her into the boards, flicked the puck over to her teammate, and they’d scored before Avery was back on her feet.

“I know how fast you are,” Olivia said, not looking at Avery.  “I’m not going to give you the chance.”

And she didn’t.  There wasn’t one chance.  It felt like Avery’s teammates weren’t even trying.  She caught them chatting, chatting, while there was a game to focus on.  Melissa gave it a shot, but Melissa wasn’t very good on skates.  Decent stick handling, but… Olivia was better.

Avery felt the flush of shame, and was aware of the crowd, and how quiet the arena was, all considered.

Olivia threw herself into the boards, directly in Avery’s way.  Avery, forced to slow or stop, passed, and watched her teammates give up the puck three seconds later.

When it wasn’t Olivia’s teammate, it was the girl with ‘Rochs’ on the back of her jersey.  Avery skated past her, but having to go around cost her the seconds she would’ve needed to intercept Olivia.

It felt like drowning.  The hurt of Olivia ghosting her was fresh, like this.  But if she cried and her classmates saw it, she’d be humiliated.  More humiliated.  Her face was probably bright red anyway.

Avery intercepted the puck.  She passed.  Her teammate, one of the girls who’d been chatting, she realized, gave up the puck as Oliva came tearing her way, ready to knock her into the boards.  Just… gave up.

Olivia scored.  Avery looked up at the scoreboard, above the ice.  6-0.

She pushed forward harder, not sure if she was sweating or crying.  She wiped at her cheek with the thumb of her glove.

Maybe she’d quit hockey, after this.

It would’ve been worse if she’d been completely stopped, but she kept getting tastes of what hockey should be.  The rising hope when she passed, saw the way was clear for a teammate.  Then it was taken away.

She intercepted the puck.  She caught up, claiming it from Rochs.  She broke away.  Moments like that, in the haze of being body-checked, intercepted, disappointed.

Olivia breezed in close, and bumped shoulders with her, and she had to take a shot.  She was fast, but she’d been at her best when she could pass to someone like Olivia, back when Olivia had been on her team.  She wasn’t a shooter.  Olivia shouldered her as she shot, and her shot went wide of the net.  Rochs claimed it.

She shot, and the goalie stopped it.

She shot again, and the goalie stopped it.

She passed to a teammate.  Karci.  Karci missed the net entirely, and she didn’t have Olivia riding her shoulder.

Melissa claimed the puck, passing to Avery, when Avery had Olivia right by her.  Avery’s expression twisted, she pushed forward, and took her shot.  The goalie had moved a bit out of the net in anticipation of Melissa taking a shot from the left, and Avery was clear to shoot.

The buzzer of the shot being made was soon followed by the horn signaling the game’s end.  Not enough seconds on the clock for anything, according to their league rules.

“Damn,” Olivia said.  “I wanted a shutout.  Good one.”

Avery turned, looking, but Olivia was already skating away.  Bumping shoulders with Rochs.

She skated backwards to the gate, only to find a log jam there.

The coach was there, to commemorate the occasion with a photo.

Avery looked, searching, but her family was already rising from their seats.  Ms. Hardy was sitting, but not really looking, talking in an animated way with her guy friend.

She was glad they weren’t paying attention.  She was hurt they weren’t paying attention.

Shame and frustration washed over her.

Avery’s eye fell on a woman in the stand, face obscured by the way the lights above them hit the plexiglass.  As Avery shifted position, the light refused to cooperate.

“Number six!” the coach called out.

Avery looked at the camera.

The flash was enough to almost bring tears to her eyes.

She pushed out.  Let that moment go, and while she remembered, she held out her hand, slipping it into a hockey glove.  Picture provided.

Miss had been there.  She hadn’t remembered that until just now.

She’d gone out to get ice cream with her family.  Lucy and Verona had been there.  They’d been at the game, in the audience, but she hadn’t even glanced at them.  The Dancers had taken up her attention.

Maybe because the Dancers were a symbol of how hard it was to break into the social group.  Or how hard she’d thought it was to break into the group.

The Avery echo skated backwards, stick in one hand, photo in the other.  To Avery’s sight, there was a strong connection between herself and the echo, as the echo disappeared into the downpour.

Avery could feel the excitement in a chest that wasn’t her own.  She could feel it, like Verona felt it, and she could finally understand what Verona meant.  The way emotions could feel different.  Dampened.

When the feelings hit her like she was checked on the ice, but wearing padding.

Being on the ice, Avery had felt like the environment was her friend.  The ice was her friend.  Olivia had made a point of showing that she wasn’t Avery’s friend.

Feeling Verona’s feelings, she felt like she was a very, very small heartbeat and grouping of physical sensations in tar.  A small human-shaped bit of clarity in a haze of dark smog.  And nestled in that human bit of clarity was maybe the part of Verona that could be counted on.  Ideas danced in her head, inarticulate.  Imagination.  Her mental pictures were simultaneously less clear than Avery’s own, and more pronounced.

The awakening ritual glowed, and Avery felt feelings in Verona’s chest, felt her heart hammering as much or more than Avery’s had.  The faces of the Kennet Others were lit up, and, to Verona, it was like the rest of the word was swelling, getting brighter, and living up to that imagination.

Avery wondered if she understood Verona a bit better now.

“Didn’t mean to pick that one specifically,” Verona said.

“Damn it,” Lucy muttered, glancing at Jessica.

“I really don’t care,” Jessica said.

“Can you not tell anyone?”

“Focus.  I don’t care.  Fine.  But focus.”

Verona gave the scissors to her echo, fainter and number than Avery’s had been.

Avery tracked the tether.  Not as strong.  She hoped Verona wouldn’t lose that emotion and memory altogether.

Lucy lay on carpet, her head rising and falling with someone else’s breath.  She twisted her head around to look up at Booker, who wasn’t even a teenager.  Her head lay on his stomach, his head lay on their mom’s stomach, and her mom’s head was on-

His face changed, like a weird photoshop job, trying to drop in images seen from elsewhere.  From photographs.

“Don’t laugh,” Jasmine warned, smiling.

Lucy giggled, her voice young, and the way they were lying on the living room floor, her laughter jiggled Booker’s stomach, which made him laugh.  It was a contagious effect, spreading across all four of them.  But the more Booker laughed, the more she laughed, and then that set mom off because it was too much.

Booker bumped her shoulder with his knees, his face all squinty and scrunched-up, his body curling up, because he was too far gone.  He pushed her, trying to get her to move off him, then wriggled, trying to get away.

She flipped over, pushed his shirt up, and gave him a big wet raspberry on the stomach.

The echo that Lucy released wasn’t a clear one, but it had a lot attached to it, a vague family shape framing it.

She gave it the cipher with the little drawing.

“Two decent ones, one weak,” Jessica said.  “The-”

Every movement was careful.  Each foot had to be set down with care, to avoid tipping over.

She’d eaten and she was hungry.  When she’d eaten, her stomach had hurt, and she’d squirted out the contents.  After, she’d been tired, hungry, thirsty, and felt mixed-together emptiness with feeling stopped up, in her middle.

Now, even though it wasn’t that cold out, she was trembling.

She nosed at some grass, then chewed on it, prying at it with sharp teeth, tugging it free.  She couldn’t taste anything rich in it, there wasn’t a lot to it, but it was right there for the taking and it felt like an answer to the gnawing emptiness in her middle.

What she really wanted, though, the balm to all things, was her mama.  Her mama was warm.  Her mama provided food that didn’t hurt her stomach, rich and filling, quenching hunger and thirst both.  Her mama would make the world feel less open and empty.  Her mama would protect her.

She shivered, huddling into a crevice, and her mouth opened and closed as she chewed at grass.

The shadow slipped close with barely a sound.  When eyes focused on her, they were close together.

She knew from her very limited experience that eyes being close together meant predator.  It meant hunter.  She’d run into a few things, things that moved and smelled different than mama or than her brothers and sisters.  Some took to the air, others moved along the ground.  Others scampered up trees.

The scary ones had always had eyes like this.

She hissed as it drew closer, her heart pounding enough she thought she could faint.

The shadow nuzzled at her, found the back of her neck, and picked her up by the scruff.  She didn’t fight it.  She was too tired.

The shadow moved her to a shoulder, and she held on, feeling the warmth of her.

She was so grateful for that warmth, even as the rest of her was tired and very close to being done.

She nuzzled in close and accepted whatever was to follow.

“That’s a very small echo,” Jessica observed.  “It-”

The image of a small possum fizzled out, dissipating as a wisp.

“Good,” Snowdrop said, to the disintegrating image.  “Hmph.”

“She didn’t just lose a key memory or anything, did she?” Avery asked.  “She-”

“No.  No.  We’re good,” Jessica said.

The downpour steadily increased.  It began to feel like they were slowly falling.

To Avery’s vision, the tethers that stretched from them to their images, and their images were off over the edge, out past the boundary.  Pulling them down, or weighing them down.

The more that feeling of falling increased, the more the rain came down.

Avery drew Snowdrop close, shielding her some.

Images began to appear in the rain.

“Go,” Jessica said.  She turned on a flashlight.  “Keep moving.”

The world was broken up and crowded, and drenched in rain.  The school was there, surrounded by broken earth, water coming down from the trees with enough force and vigor to carve out moats.  The broken earth formed an island, and the island was pressed up against other, similar spaces.  Towns.  Roads were decrepit, eaten-through like swiss cheese or leaves that caterpillars had gotten at, and when enough of them had broken up, they’d pressed in close, mashing together.

Images swept past Avery.  Some rude, others violent, others scary.  Many were like Lucy’s memory of the man who she’d been in the laughing circle with.  Barely pieced together, or off, blurry.

They were wading through a crowd, on broken ground that was sometimes sloped, sometimes deceptive in how intact it was or wasn’t, water pouring down around them like a light stream or river, cold enough to numb.

Jessica held out her hands, getting them to stop.

Silent, like an eel, something with a head as big as one of the ruined buildings off to the side slipped by.  Eyeless, legless, skimming over the water and ragged ground.

An echo flew past Avery with enough force to take her off her feet.  Images of a woman, bored in a restaurant, rocked her, emotionally and physically.  She could smell the booth, feel the boredom.  And then it was gone, leaving her own emotions stirred, her physical body still in the process of being bowled over.  She slipped on uneven ground.  Snowdrop reached for her, grabbing her, but she’d found her footing before pulling Snowdrop off her feet too.

She hadn’t even straightened up all the way when another echo slipped past her.  A hand grazed her and passed through her, giving her a taste of the feeling in her midsection, only that feeling in her midsection, like she’d lost something or someone precious to her.

She was falling behind.  She hurried forward, hand on Snowdrop’s shoulder, and more echoes were in the way.  Too densely packed to avoid touching some.  She pushed past.

Mental images, disconnected, of hands twisted in pain, struggling and failing to hold a pen.

Mental images of food, spread across a table.  A sense of accomplishment.

She forged forward, and Verona grabbed her hand, helping tug her forward as she slowed.  A moment later, Snowdrop was behind Verona, pushing.

Something more profound.  An Echo with darker shadows and brighter brights to how its blurry splash of a face and body were put together.

And with that, the sense of dying.  Of her heart slowing, stopping.  Her breathing grew ragged.

Snowdrop tugged on her arm, while Verona had a hand at her armpit.  Verona looked like she was suffering too.

A bright light shone in her eyes, doing nothing to dismiss the feeling.

Jessica threw something.  Avery felt the grit in her hair and face.

The feeling fled.  Jessica hauled her and Verona to their feet.

Through the smell of hospital.  Past a taste of vomit.

They were moving through a crowd, echoes sitting shoulder to shoulder, other figures here and there, stalking their way through.  A man, tall, with no eyes, what appeared to be a long coat actually a part of him, like a fish had fins, his mouth a weird shape that suggested it hinged away from the upper half of his face.

More echoes.  Some were darker, more disturbed.  Others faded.  All had a taste to them.

Lucy had the salt grinder, and was depositing salt into her hands, hucking it at the most intense images.  Forging a way.  Jessica didn’t stop her.

With skin as white as paper and slightly melted, like candle wax, slick with rain, a creature sat, as large as a building.  It reached out with long fingers to pick ghosts out of the crowd.

Jessica seemed wary of that one.

Avery had imagined, kind of, that with Jessica’s request that she go looking two more times after this, that she’d make a day trip of it.  It’d be easy.  She’d win her over.  If not by finding some clue or thread to follow, then through sheer effort.

Like trying to impress Ms. Hardy at the hockey game.  She kept making promises to herself and not keeping them.

The downpour was too intense to really speak, and she felt breathless, anyway.  The images hit her too often, on too deep a level.

She was holding Snowdrop’s hand, checked on her friend, and then gave her a tug, gesturing.

Snowdrop handed Avery the doll’s head, body missing, and Avery took it.  Then Snowdrop switched to animal form, and Avery lifted her into a pocket, covering it with a flap.  A little white nose stuck out.

She pressed forward, doll’s head in one hand.

She moved forward with vigor now.  Because she wanted to do this.  She wanted to experience these worlds, and see if maybe there was a good fit out there there, or another perspective, or something.  A place where she could stand atop some equivalent of a clifftop or scenic vista.

She thought of what Eloise had said about using connections to draw oneself to a place, and looked for the connections to home, faint bands visible in the midst of faint figures, images, and images almost appearing out of the downpour.

She moved through the crowd like she evaded players on the ice and soccer field.  A ghost passed through the doll’s head, and seemed to get stuck there.  It whispered at her with the doll’s mouth, “I’ve disappointed them so badly.”

She gave the doll’s head a shake, and the ghost came free.

She supported Lucy, and with Verona right behind them, they pressed on.  Avery navigated, Lucy dispatched problems, and when they faltered, Verona pushed them from behind.

She felt maybe a dozen people dying in different ways, when certain stark echoes passed through her.  She felt people getting hurt.  She felt people hurting other people.  She saw images, and it was so hard to push the distinct mental pictures out of her head that she had trouble conjuring up the mental image of what Jessica had told her to look out for.

Blue boat with a dinged and peeling underside.  A lake.  A pair of indistinct businessmen.  A dog with mismatched eyes barking.

None of the above, in this jumble.

“Rough patch ahead,” Jessica announced.

She could talk in the midst of all of this?

Jessica reached into a pocket, then lifted up a bottle with what looked like a firefly within.

It flashed, flickered, then glowed, shedding a broad orange light.

Echoes scampered out of the way.  Four, five, or six indistinct shapes, slick and fishlike, pulled away from the gloom.  Avery hadn’t even seen them.

“Hurry.  Go, go, before it dims,” Jessica told them.

The morass of dark, slimy things closed in behind them as the light passed.  Echoes continued to lance through them.  Water rolled past them, sometimes up to mid-calf, sometimes with enough force that she slid back a few feet with both feet firmly planted.

Avery looked at connections, then pointed.  Jessica nodded, pointing her flashlight.  In this kind of gloom, with so much rain and so many intervening, transparent echoes, the light was feeble.  A five percent increase in how much they could see.

She pressed forward, doing the climbing work over a pile of rubble, then reaching back to help lift Verona up.  Lucy got help from Jessica.

They were covering a lot of ground, she realized.  The areas they moved through were all residential, all small towns, all compressed down to their most populated, emotionally active areas.  Places where her handprint-Sight would have been densest, were she to look at them.

The doll’s head twitched as an echo grazed it.

They moved downhill a way, then through trees that bordered a trail that apparently saw heavy use.

Into a tunnel that passed beneath a highway..

Avery touched a wall for balance, and pulled her hand away, looking at it in the meager light.  There was a red tint.

She had to try three times before she was able to get the sentence out.  “I think we’re home.”

“Climb,” Jessica said.  “Get out.  Draw on the connections to the items you gave the echoes.  Reel them in, reel yourself up.”

Snowdrop wriggled energetically in Avery’s pocket.

“Snowdrop knows- knows ways to get around, around here, I think,” Avery said, wincing as an echo grazed her.  Alcoholism, maybe.

“I’ll go back now, then,” Jessica said.

Jessica adjusted her raincoat, fixed her hood, then ducked her head, moving out of the dripping tunnel, back the way they’d come.  No fanfare, barely a word of farewell.

They climbed.  Out of the tunnel, then up the side of the hill.

Toward familiar ground.  They’d been approximately here, a while ago.

The blood was thicker, and clotted, meaty chunks and strands of hair strewn across the ground made it clear that it had been dragged.

It was easier to follow the trail, now.

At the risk of not being able to ascend, or running into something native to the Ruins, they followed the trail.

They reached the river.  The bridge.

The Ruins were only the emotionally resonant or emotionally important places, jammed together, worn down and blurry at the edges, drenched.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

The first night they’d visited the ruins, they’d thought the body had been moved.  Taken to pieces and then moved when they’d been on their way to the Arena, where they might have found what was left.

Echoes swirled, indistinct.

Avery held out the doll’s head.

“Put it in the container.  Seal it,” the doll whispered.

Moving it around was like trying to get a signal from a bad radio station, fiddling with the knob, with no perfect answer, only a good enough.

“-eal with the three even-”

Snowdrop climbed free of her pocket.  She led them to a hollow between tree and bridge, up through gutter-water, and to the bridge itself.

To a shallower part of the Ruins, like where they’d encountered the eyeball collector.  Not all that far from here.

Avery reached for her connection to the photograph and memory, then gently reeled it in.

As she did, the world came more clearly into focus.  Like the rays of light that could appear around light sources when squinting, the rainfall went in and out of focus.

She felt exhausted, emotionally.  Raw.  The memory of Olivia swept over her like any echo, but this one settled back into place.

It didn’t feel diminished in the way she’d expected, but having let it go and brought it back in, it felt somehow less important.  She’d held it close to her heart, but it didn’t feel essential.  Maybe it was diminished that way.

They were in Kennet, without rain, the three of them dripping wet, loaded down with bags, exhausted.

Lucy pulled out her phone and checked.

“Tell me that we didn’t lose hours,” Avery said.

“Jessica spends days in there,” Avery noted.

There was a sound of sirens, of an Ontario Police police car racing across Kennet.

“Are they here yet?” Verona asked.

“Arrived right when we did,” Lucy said, looking at her phone.  “You’ll have to put off checking on your dad.”

Verona smiled at that, a sad expression more than a happy one.

“Text from Matthew says it looks like the Skeptic, the Glamour-Drowned, and the Gilded Lily,” Lucy said.  “The local Others can’t even get close to them.  I want to regroup, get information, but we can’t let them get up to too much mischief.  I’m thinking one or two of us should stall, while the other or others get sorted.”

“Snowdrop and I can try intercepting them,” Avery said.  “Or at least keep an eye on them from a distance, in case something crops up.  We got a lot of practice with surveillance on the locals.”

“I like the surveillance idea more than the intercepting,” Lucy said.  “Just… even if it’s knowing what the Gilded Lily has or finds.  That seems important.”

Verona pushed wet hair back away from her face.  Even with a hood up, she’d gotten drenched.  “And if you do wind up intercepting or getting spotted-”

“Don’t,” Lucy warned.

“-You’re better at being nice, and I don’t think most of these guys are bad people.  So you’ll do better if you try talking it out, probably.”

Avery removed Snowdrop from her coat pocket, pulled off her coat, and tied it around her waist, then slipped her mask off.  Her shoes were soaked, but beyond that, it felt nice to be soaking wet on a hot summer day.

“Looks like it’s the park spot, west of town,” Lucy reported.

“‘Kay,” Avery said.

“Be careful,” Verona warned.  “If you’ve been using glamour-”

“I’ll keep a healthy distance.  If I can’t, I’ll try to deal with the Gilded Lily, specifically.”

“If you can,” Lucy said.  “Looking at you with the Sight, it doesn’t look like the omens are heavy around us like they were at school.  No strife, but that doesn’t mean it can’t catch up with us or find us.  Nicolette hurt Melissa.  Whoever this is can hurt us.”

“Stay in touch,” Verona said.  “Report in early and often.”

Avery nodded again.  She looked down at Snowdrop, who clung to her shoulder with sharp nails.  “Ready?”