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Eight Chapter

Glennenmor

*

"We'll say seven and a half then," Cornelia ended the haggling and placed the Résa on the scale. In return, the old merchant lady gave her the mistletoe bundle and they said farewell. At least Cornelia did, the merchant was already haggling with the next customer.

The two Rusk siblings continued to stroll alongside the Avenue of Roses at the eastern side of the large, teeming marketplace known as Republic Plaza. The name had originally been assigned to a cross-shaped, tiled square which was stretching a tenth-league (or one hundred and sixty feet) in both directions. Over the years, the square - enormous in Leporian proportions - had not been able to contain the colourful market stalls which cluttered it. They had crept over the nearby avenues, Roses, Carrots, Strawberries and Dandelions.

The stalls were drawn carts, containing food, spices, tools, jewellery, sweets and alcoholic beverages from the various districts of the Flower Valley. Each district had their own assigned 'region' of the square where traders were allowed to peddle goods from that particular region. In the middle, a large out-door tavern surrounded by an elegant wooden wall had been built. There, food was served during day-time and alcohol during sunset-time.

The middle of the plaza contained a non-figurative fresco pattern of colourful pebbles, symmetrically arranged lines of well-trimmed flower bushes and stone benches where older Leporians could recline and play cards.

The buildings flanking the Plaza and the surrounding avenues were magnificent. They were rectangular step-stair buildings of dirt, but with wooden frameworks and façades covered with colourful round pebbles, arranged in patterns that gave each building a distinct personality and polished so they were smooth and reflective of light. Of course each level of the up to ten floors were bountiful with grass, flowers, vines and other scents.

Glennenmór smelled strongly of flowers in bloom, the air was thick and warm. It would have been nigh unbreathable if it wasn't for the fresh air from the rlangen and Zudglenné Lakes, which were connected to one another by a narrow sound which had been turned into an even narrower canal by Leporian engineers. It was connecting the lakes and separating the eastern and western halves of the Republic Capital, which in their turn were connected by three wooden bridges.

The Capital itself stretched four leagues east-west and north-south, generally circular in shape. The peripheral blocks consisted of building complexes similar to those in Ruskebó and other smaller towns, though their dirt walls were generally decorated with carved pebble reliefs in the shape of vines and flowers. The interior buildings were colourful, taller, constructed in unbroken rows moving alongside streets tiled with pebbles and small cobblestones taken from the quarries east of Weilwahl.

The city had several large temples, town halls, sport facilities, in-door markets and private mansions, sporting decorative towers stretching twenty and up to thirty feet into the air. There were huge private buildings with lush private gardens surrounded by high walls ornamented in red, yellow, white and blue - connected to the affluent magnates, the super-rich merchants of the Valley.

The inhabitants of Glennenmór looked different than the people from the north. They were rounder and moved with a certain pride. Often wearing several pieces of dyed cloth, they also adorned their feet with sandals. Amongst the wealthier Glennenmórites it was seemingly fashionable to wrap their ears in pieces of cloth arranged like turbans, and wearing canes with polished stone handles which they evidently had no need for.

They seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that the country now was in a state of war, and Cinnabar increasingly came to feel - amidst all this teeming splendour and trade - that the war was more and more absent. In Ruskebó, there had always been a sense of danger from the backwoods - not acute, but ever-present like a thin mist. They had been living at the fringe of civilisation, and even if wars until yesterday had been relegated to the waning past, around one or two Rim Scouts had perished every year due to fighting with enemy bands outside the Rim.

"Are we even in a war?" Cornelia muttered. "Doesn't seem like it here, just."

"M-hm," Cinnabar agreed while looking around at the stalls. They really had everything here. It wasn't just one stall for every good, but several. Yellow clovers. Red ones. White ones. Flowers of all kinds. Thirty to forty different sorts of grass. Multiple bakeries with cupcakes and buns. A stall where antique books were peddled...

Antique books...

"Cinnabar!" Cornelia complained, dragged her lop ears and stomped the ground. "What you think you're doing there?"

He was flapping the pages of a small bound book - 'Legendarium Apocrypha Leporianum', sucking in the beautifully illustrated pages of Leporians dancing around with faeries and mushroom people. He suddenly stopped, seeing two pages with no texts but with an image of Leporian warriors holding the Rusk banner, attacking from the forest towards an enemy consisting of grey-skinned black-maned creatures with horns and tails.

So that is how it is, he thought. We've fought them before.

With a quick slap over his shoulder, Cornelia called him back to reality. "Ouch!" he let out.

"Put that back!" she hissed angrily. "We have a hundred Résa, and mom is very frugal. After all, remember that we are Rusks - not beggars. As much as we can, we're going to live on our own means. Also... remind me to remind you to apply for a job, you slob!"

Cinnabar cast a sad glance at the green fibre cover of the book. "B-but, sis'!" he tried.

"Do as I tell. Unlike me, you don't have any own money, bro'. Put it back. When you get hired, you can waste all the money you like on books. The only thing you should read is the darn shopping list!"

Cinnabar lowered his head in sadness and put back the book.

"Now let's see if we can get an herbs' dealer in this mess," Cornelia established, leading the way. "Art will need a refill of his medicines."

"Yes, sister," Cinnabar grunted and followed her, holding on to the woven basket where they had filled all their supplies.

They moved back into the square, this time alongside the opposite end, passing by stalls selling exotic feathers, frilly dresses and musical instruments. It was there that they bounced into Lyra. Had Cinnabar already forgotten all about her? Granted, much had happened since...

"Greetings Cinnie!" Lyra waved. She was in the presence of her litter sisters Lisa and Laura, both awkwardly alike one another. They were shorter than Lyra and more plump, the only thing separating them was that Lisa carried a green scarf around her neck while Laura pranced with a red one. Or was it the other way around?

Cornelia made a demonstrative sigh and turned away her gaze.

"Mársks..," she stated.

"Lyra, I..," Cinnabar tried. Drats, sister, go away!

Lisa... or was it Laura, made big eyes and pointed towards Cinnabar. "So Lyra, you really did... talk to him?"

The other sister, whoever it was, started to giggle. Her eyes were worn however. It had been a terrifying night on the ferry.

Cinnabar crossed his arms. "Lyra," he said. "I assume everyone in your family is alright?"

Lyra shrugged. "All the little-ones slept during most of it. It was fair easy down on the lowest deck. Travelling third class has its benefits, don't you think?"

Cornelia gritted her teeth. "Seven ferries got sunk. Thousands drowned. Wouldn't want to call that easy!"

Lyra lowered both her ears and her gaze, a lone tear trailing alongside her cheek. She turned away.

"We're trying..," she said, her voice breaking a little, "...to not think about it. You get sick in the soul thinking about it. But I actually thought about you, Cinnie."

Cornelia turned her eyes towards Cinnabar. "So you have been... acquainted?" she stated, a sense of threat in her words.

Cinnabar shrugged. "Yes, 'mom'... oh I forgot it, you are my sister!"

She made a discreet grimace against him as he turned towards Lyra, bowing before her. "Pleasure is mine, given that you sought for me?"

Lyra smiled tiredly. "I did not. But now when you are here, I want to talk with you - you two, shut up!"

Laura and Lisa were giggling. "We're going to the perfume stalls!" the red scarf announced.

"Let's see if the merchants here are as slow-running as those back home in Ruskebó!" the blue one winked. Cornelia shuddered.

"Don't get caught by the gendarmerie!" Lyra shouted to them and waved.

"We're really going to go too," Cornelia explained. "All we have to do is to buy Art's medicine."

"May I hook up with you?" Lyra asked.

"We are really in a hurry," Cornelia said, casting a pleading glance at Cinnabar. He responded by puffing up his cheeks.

"Where are you staying, Lyra?" he asked.

Lyra shrugged. "Mother has taken in with father - or rather in his apartment here. He's on a journey south, in Sigma. We live in the Cobnut Alley."

Cornelia's nostrils widened. Cinnabar could read her thoughts - she was definitely pissed that a low-status Mársk could be housed in a wealthy apartment. In the very same block where Claudia's small family dwelt.

"We're staying there too, at my aunt," Cinnabar smiled gregariously. "So now we're actual neighbours."

"Oh, that pleases me," Lyra smiled shyly, her blue eyes polite and friendly. "You must certainly invite me one day."

"We are moving soon!" Cornelia gritted.

Lyra lowered one ear. "And you are?"

"Cornelia Rusk, daughter of councillor-doe Claudia Rusk. Cinnabar here is my brother."

"Pleased to meet you, I am..."

"Lyra Mársk. I know who you are. Your reputation sort of preceded you."

Lyra gave out a little nervous laugh. "Not too bad a reputation, I hope?"

"The boys seem to like you, I've heard."

They continued down alongside the stalls, smelling perfumes, spices and roasting vegetables and being exposed to a wide array of colours and fabrics.

"Don't you love the clothes they have here? Look at that robe for example! Oh what a style!" Lyra let out and softly took Cornelia on the shoulder with her fingertips, calling on to her attention.

Cornelia stretched out her neck. "I'm not a little girl, Lyra. Besides, these clothes are wasteful... extravaganza. Wearing more than one piece of cloth in summer? Madness!"

"Well, if it suits you to be all stuck-up. Some of us do fancy a little fashion, you know?" Lyra jested a little, showing her pink smile.

They found an herbs trader. Cornelia paid what the trader wanted without any haggling, taking the poppy leaves and placing them down her basket.

"Well," she said. "I guess you guys want to stay here for a while," she resigned herself. "But be sure of one thing, Cindy-boy. I'm going to tell on mommy!"

"Fine!" Cinnabar grunted and thumped with his foot.

They separated.

*

"Hope I haven't gotten you into trouble, Cinnie?"

"Huh!"

"With your mother I mean?"

They were standing at a fabric stall now, Lyra feeling on the quality of the pink cotton with her fingertips while Cinnabar turned the pages around on the Legendarium Apocrypha Leporianum. As soon as his sister was gone, he had bounced back and bought the book. Maybe he could hide it on the inner side of his tunic?

"Mm... no, not really. She screams a lot, but that's all she does. And Caroline is fine with us slouching around for all what matters. Mom wants us to find work as soon as possible, she cannot bear the thought of our family as moochers."

"Mooching is also a form of work," Lyra smiled. "But I don't think we're going to stay here for long. A couple of days at most."

Five hours ago, two of the three remaining ferries had arrived at Brássehorn, the large harbour in northern Glennenmór. The third one had evidently docked at Langebó. Cinnabar tried to not think of how much blood the rlangen had swallowed. He had also tried to not feel euphoria over being alive, when so many thousands of others were dead. His joy had been dampened by the reactions of Arthur and Claudia. While Arthur had soon passed out from exhaustion, and had to be carried down into their blanket by Cinnabar, Claudia had been devastated by Cynthia's death. She had cried, clutched at the deck and wall and hit her own chest and tummy with her fists. 'Nooooooo! Noooooo!' she had screamed. 'Cynthia! She was my best friend! The night to my day! The closest friend in the world!'

Cinnabar and Cornelia had both been conflicted over their mother's reaction. It had puzzled them since Claudia did not usually have meltdowns. She had been unable to sleep even after the assault had stalled, and had been more than exhausted when the ferry - after what had felt like an eternity - had arrived safely at Brassenhorn. There, they had been welcomed by Aunt Caroline and her son Charlie, and immediately been whisked away to their luxurious five-room apartment in Cobnut Alley, where the sofas had been turned into beds (Arthur had been lent an apple basket to sleep in - as if he would be able to complain, he had still been unconscious).

"What makes you think so?" Cinnabar wondered. "I'm sure the military will do what's right, even if the Thing is run by the Tulips."

Lyra let out a despondent little laughter and moved her hands into the pockets of her tunic. It was a pink thing, ending a little bit above her knees. Tantalizing...

"The army has nothing against the strafers. We don't even know what those things are. Won't surprise me if we're on the run again tonight."

Cinnabar's nostrils widened, and he clenched his fist. "This is my homeland!" he said. "Our homeland, Lyra. My ancestor, Mathyn, sacrificed his life so children should be able to grow up here, live to old age and die peacefully. We must defend the Flower Valley."

They had moved to a bench overseeing a large market house, bushes blooming. The skies were clear and Sapphire Haze stood over the skies like a big blue ball right now.

Lyra looked away. "I want to live," she said, choking a little sob. "And... I am afraid. We all are."

Cinnabar moved closer to her. She moved away a bit more from him, staring out. He got the hint and stopped moving towards her. He leant back against the bench's rest, wrinkling his nose. Lyra turned towards him, with inquisitive eyes.

"Cinnie," she said. "I have... I have a theory. About the strafers?"

"Oh?" Cinnabar let out.

"Yesterday when you told me about the trolls, and about all those old dragons with weird names and incest and all of that... you said the dragons created some kind of... monsters, which had no will of their own?"

"Golems," Cinnabar stated. "The Elvish High King 'ephiqua' tried to create them as well, as well as the Dark Mages. The two worst of them were the Dark Lords... they destroyed old Elven Ayrien."

"You think the strafers are golems? They do not seem to need to eat, and have no eyes. I have not seen any animal without eyes."

"That is not true. At the Springsource, there is a special type of cave fish with no eyes. It is also transparent - you can see all organs of it."

"That's interesting. Are they also invulnerable to arrows and spears?"

"Don't think so," Cinnabar said and stood up. "Let's sight-see a little bit around Glennenmór. If we're only going to be here for a short while, I want to look around," he winked and tried to joke.

Lyra followed him, holding her hands behind her back. She was moving her tongue thoughtfully over her lower lip. Cinnabar confidently moved towards the centre of the Capital, showing her the great House of Music, a staircase pyramid containing an amphitheatre. He also showed her the Republic Library, a large yellow building containing the largest Museum in the Valley. Next to it, surrounded by walls and gardens, they found the University, which consisted of several steeply leaning pyramids, open atriums and student apartments. At the end of every year, the last-year students painted the dormitories in striking new colours - for this year it had been red, yellow and white, with stars blazing over the façades. He told Lyra that he planned to study Law and Astrology there the next year, and would also take Mathematics, Oratory Skills and History. The University was - like the Museum - the only building of its kind in the Flower Valley, and had been built forty years ago. There were no students here now, they were supposed to be free for the Summer Solstice Festivities.

In fact, he had continued, most of the Capital was rather new. Three-four generations ago, the ground had shaken in a giant earthquake, which had affected all parts of the Valley. Old Glennenmór, a city with narrow streets, open sewers and hundreds of small market-places, had been destroyed at the wink of an eye. Thirty thousand Leporians dead and buried under the rubble, as it had happened during the night. The government had doubled the taxation and mobilized every male in the Republic to rebuild the infrastructure under the leadership of the Army. Thus, Glennenmór had become the pearl and envy of the world inside the Rim Mountains.

She had yawned, so instead he had taken her to a rolling stall in an open yard next to the Museum, and bought them green scones with blackcurrant jam. Lyra had awarded him with a smile for that.

"Well," she had laughed, "I'm only taking one of these little baddies. A girl must think of her weight, I would not like to..," Cinnabar gave her a look, "...well, not fit into my tunics anymore."

Cinnabar moved away his own scone. You must read her your poem soon, you coward, a voice told him inside his head.

"You want to hear my theory now?" Lyra asked.

"What theory?" Cinnabar wondered, wiping away the crumbs from his whiskers.

Lyra turned straight towards him, looking up almost pleadingly. "Promise you won't laugh at me, Cinnie. Look, I still think your book is silly, but it made me think. You remember that mountain that the Dragon Jaffareeff..."

"Japharëth."

"Whatever. The mountain he dropped on all the trolls..."

"And ogres and giants."

"Don't interrupt me, f... Cinnie! I've been listening to you blathering about these giant buildings for an hour, so please respond in kind!"

She stomped on the ground. He did the same.

"Fine, go on!" He grunted and crossed his arms.

"Well, didn't the Earth shake?" Lyra wondered rhetorically. Cinnabar stood silent until it was clear that she wanted him to reply.

"Yes. It was an earthquake, though not that very strong..."

"Thanks. 'Yes' was more than enough, Cinnie. Anyway, my theory is that these golems and trolls were trapped underneath the mountain somehow. Maybe in an air pocket? And then when the mountain collapsed, they came out."

Cinnabar looked away. He tried to find something implausible with the theory. At the end, he resigned. He took Lyra's hand.

"Look, Lyra," he said, sighing theatrically. "We cannot be sure what they are, so your guess is as good as anybody's right now. But I sure have not read about anything like them in Quothinos' book."

Lyra crossed her arms. "Well, you have any better proposal? I believe they must have come from the underground anyway. Otherwise the scouts would have seen them."

She is right, Cinnabar thought, not unimpressed and a bit scared. Lyra's sudden display of brilliance puzzled him. It also made him _more_interested in her.

"The book claims there were huge underground kingdoms in Ayrien. No one have seen them since the Zirian apocalypse."

Lyra took Cinnabar's arm and followed him, bouncing up and down happily. "So," she said, "we're back in Zir again. Everything seems to end, right there," she grinned, pointing above the skyline of Glennenmór. The Silvery Arc stood steady, like always, over the skies. "Think some think that used to be a Moon."

"Yes," Cinnabar said, a part of his mind imagining of the skies would have looked with three moons, one orange, one blue and one purple. According to Quothinos, it was around twelve thousand years since Zir burnt, after the fall of Esphëaroth.

"What happened?" Lyra wondered.

They walked down further south now, passing by the Great Orphanage of Jaqualyn. Cinnabar had to make for a rest at the foot of the large wooden statue of the old Oakenchair. Lyra sank down next to him. "So?" she wondered. "If it's a long story, then summarize please."

"There was a war," he said. "The Prince of Elven Esphëaroth, Elëthyr, fell in love with the Ayrienin Princess Ellëacathaëlle. He abducted her, and her brother Ellëthair Goldenhair thus began a war between the High Kingdom of Ophëaras and Zir, cursing every Zirian Elf to death. Elëthyr's brothers tried to use the rebellious Galatean Elves to overthrow Ellëthair, and then Ellëthair pleaded with Japharëth - High King of the Dragons - to create a gate towards Zir through which he could lead his navy. The Dragon King complied, and got in conflict with his son Nagaphëaroth, so the Dragon war started anew, and then Zir burned and darkened the skies of Ayrien for thousands of years. Was that short enough?"

Lyra let out a funny little sound. "So. Many. Names."

"That's history for sure," Cinnabar grinned.

"Do you have any other interests, Cinnie?" Lyra asked him. They had taken up their stroll south, moving towards the Cloverfield Park, a large area partially covered with bush vegetation with trees strewn around.

"How you mean?"

"Apart from reading, and talking much? I've taken it you like to fight?"

He sneered. "I hate fighting. I don't start fights, I end them."

"They say that you are violent. They've said I should be afraid of you."

"Are you?" Cinnabar gave her a mischievous smile.

She looked away, both a bit embarrassed and amused.

"Like you would hang out with me if I was," he said.

She turned her face towards him. "Maybe I _like_danger?" she smiled.

He laughed. "What are your interests, Lyra?"

"I don't know!" she smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "Guess... I like having fun and see new things happening. Meeting with friends. Meeting interesting people. I mostly know what I don't like."

"What do you don't like?"

"What you think!?" Lyra laughed. "Boredom!"

They were entering a fenced area of the park where many stalls stood, surrounding a Fair consisting of tread-driven carousels, swings, climbing frames and trampolines. A wooden sign hung over the entrance, stating that this was the Mapleheart Fair. And no place in the entire world seemed more distant from the War than this. Mothers with their little ones in leashes walked around and gossiped. Youths were jumping around on trampolines. Voices, laughter and music filled the air. A fountain sprinkled water horizontally over the ground, and young bucks jumped over the shower of water as it approached them in a circle, while does applauded. At one corner, lots of little ones were paying copper coins to hand-paint white tunics.

Then it struck Cinnabar.

This War was not only a matter of survival, but of this. Of families, of the young and the old, being able to enjoy life like this. Their Flower Valley, with all its stuck-in provincialism, vulgar revues and ignorant farmers, was a home where families could - should - be able to expect a life of happiness and bliss. Glennenmór had no city walls. The Rim, visible in the eastern horizon far beyond the skyline, the hills and forests, was really its defence.

A sense of wrath and despair gripped his chest as he saw the blissfully unaware citizens of the Capital enjoy their day in the Sun. Weirdly enough, he was not retentive of the fact that they felt such a happiness - rather he hoped they would be this untroubled for as long as they could. What he knew however, was that the shadow of the War soon would befall Glennenmór, and that many here would die. I will not tell you that, he thought. You deserve your joy, just like we did ours.

"This place is a little boring, what you think Cinnie?" Lyra jested and wrinkled her nose. "Should we go to the Works? Just to get a little exercise?"

Cinnabar's jaw dropped. He clenched his fist, but unclenched it again. "What the Hell..?" was all he could muster himself to say.

At the middle of the Fair, there was a large climbing frame, built a bit like a castle, with hollow towers, connected to one another through strong fibre ropes. The poles were thick, albeit badly bitten, and marked by steps, knobs and dangling ropes in various colours. The highest tower reached almost twenty feet above the ground, shadowing the entire Fair.

Of course, Becka hung from its side, just underneath the wooden spire. She smiled and waved towards Cinnabar, shouting something he could not catch. It was probably not worthy to hear either.

Above Becka, Arthur sat clenched around the spire itself, resting his chin over its tip. He looked terrified.

*

Sitting hunched over Pier Five in Brássehorn, she had showered herself in the light of the rosy dawn, while the wind had played through the unruly curls on her head. The ducks had quacked nearby, but not even their beautiful green necks had made her happy. She thought about Poker, and about her mother, her siblings... and her father...

The pier consisted of gravel, of that coarse type which did wonders for the backside. She took up a piece of gravel, large enough to fit in her hand, feeling its weight. Then she stood up, slowly, sighing and closing her eyes. As she opened them again, her eyes fell on rlangen's waters, glimmering in violet and red this wonderful morning. On either side, dark forests and rolling hills flanked the lake. A family of wild ducks soared over the surface, the tips of their wings creating silvery traces on the mirror-blank wetness.

She raised her hand with the stone, imagining that she poured all her sadness and emptiness into the coarse clump. Once again she closed her eyes.

"Farewell, Poker," she whispered.

She threw the tiny rock into the water. It disappeared with a hollow splash, making ripples to and beyond the foot of the pier.

Then Becka Sommer walked away from the harbour. And she never turned her face around.

*

"My my! Irma Astis - what brings us the honour?"

Arthur's eyes flickered as he slowly moved out of his poppy-infused sleep. At first, he was sure that he was waking up at Claudia's - at least it certainly smelled that way. Tidy, with a warm touch - as if hundreds of delicious buns had been prepared in the stove throughout the years. And he could have swore he had heard Claudia's voice.

As his mind had started to filter through the impressions from his eyes, he came to the realisation that he was at an unfamiliar place. That annoyed him, a sense of panic arising in his chest - like an angry lynx cub. He knew that his medicine made wonders, when he was taking it - what would ordinarily have caused panic attacks only came like mild annoyances, as if what otherwise would have been a raging autumn's storm came out as a mild breeze a warm summer's day.

He tuned in his ears to the conversation. An unfamiliar - but not repellent - female voice was heard.

"...so you say that? How terrible! And all these poor little ones... to die like that in the waters of rlangen. My grandmother would have to make an announcement."

"Your grandmother," Arthur could hear Claudia's voice, "I take it is convening with general Haythorn at present? We can mourn the dead after we've won the war."

A third voice interjected - it was similar to Claudia's but had a different accent. "Some biscuits?"

"Thank you, Caroline," the first voice chirped. "You are sooo kind!"

"All for you, Irma my dear colleague. Sister, you want some?"

"No thank you sister. I told you... I don't know when I'm going to eat again."

"But you need to eat something. Otherwise you'll be dead within a day. Stone dead - gastric stasis. Take one of these biscuits now."

"If you insist, Caroline."

Arthur moved his gaze around the room he was in. There were three egg-shaped doors covered with curtains around him, one window to his right. The room was roughly sphere-shaped, with a flat floor entirely covered in extensively patterned rugs. A small oil lamp hung from the ceiling. Most of the walls were covered in shelves displaying items of copper and stained glass, or tapestries depicting nature and countryside sceneries. The walls themselves were covered in dark green wallpaper made from wasp's nest and pressed leaves. One of the shelves was entirely devoted to awards, diplomas and honours.

Where the Hell was he?

Slowly, on unsteady legs, he stood up, supporting himself against an armchair. He was a little dizzy. He stared out through the window, which unlike back home was covered in transparent glass, a little bit yellow in tone but yet allowing the colours to seep in. What he saw absolutely terrified him. A forest of colonies, colourful and covered in smoothed pebbles stared back, line after line of building roofs as far as he could see, then and then broken by carefully pruned bushes and even taller buildings and temples. With horror, he forced his face away from the window, gripping the arm supports of the chair and staring out into nothingness.

It felt like an abyss had opened up beneath his feet.

Glennenmór, he thought with dread. I must be in Glennenmór.

He had never been outside of Ruskebó before, and even it was a scary place. Cinnabar had told him that three hundred thousand Leporians lived in the Capital. It must mean that there were far more bullies living here. He shuddered and wrapped himself into his sleeping blanket, so only his head was visible.

Oh how much he needed some tea right now...

At that point, the curtains to the corridor rustled as Claudia... no... an unfamiliar doe entered the room. She wore a white robe with red sleeves, tied around her waist with a red rope. Around her neck, she wore a pendant in the form of a lily made from iron. Otherwise, she was very alike Cinnabar's mother, apart from the fact that her muzzle was snow-white and her eyebrows too. She was carrying a copper salver where a clay couplet of herbs' tea fizzled. At that point, Arthur was ready to jump up and give her a hug. He stretched out for the cup, then swiftly retracted his hands. Maybe the tea wasn't for him? Maybe it was a test? Cynthia loved to do things like these, seemingly offering him tea or cookies and then hitting him on the fingers when he tried to take them.

"Oh!" the unfamiliar female let out with a smile. "Don't be afraid, young buck! Take it, you need to drink it up real good so you start growing."

"Ehm... T-t-thank you!" Arthur stammered. "B-b-b... W-where are I? And... who are... are you?"

"We are in the Emerald Garden Colony, Cobnut Alley, Glennenmór. My name is Caroline Rusk, I take it you know my sister Claudia?"

Caroline, that name was very familiar indeed. Wasn't she a Thingsdoe of the Republic Thing?

"Yes... I k-k-know C-C-Claudia p-p-please Mrs Rusk!" Arthur replied and tasted the tea. It was sweetened with sugar beets.

Caroline got a worried expression on her face. She bowed forward and felt on his forehead and his cheeks before taking his hands, holding them. Claudia moved into the room, or rather stormed in.

"Never thought I'll get rid of her!" she gritted.

"Auntie C-C-Claudia!"

"Arthur!" Claudia exclaimed without joy. "You are awake? How much did you overhear?"

"N-nothing, auntie C-C-C..."

"The boy is stuttering, Claudia. He must have been shocked by the war."

"He's always going on like that, sister!" Claudia dragged her ears and stomped on the ground. "But what we're going to do! Guess I have to bear with it since Cynthia died..."

"D-d-d-dead!?" Arthur let out. "Is m-m-m..?"

Claudia turned against him, the fur on her cheeks wet from tears. Caroline tightened her grip on Arthur's fingers, massaging his palms. She looked at him with deep sadness.

"Yes."

It was Claudia. She had turned her back at him, crossing her arms. "Your mother is gone," she said.

Arthur was surprised that he felt so little. Deep underneath, conflicting emotions waged a phony war with one another, shame, fear, sorrow... relief. But they just bubbled around, meaningless, without really affecting him. His mother was dead, and he felt... clear?

"He's forgotten! Oh the Goddess, you have forgotten!" Caroline exclaimed. "Must've been the shock!"

"It's like this every time," Claudia sighed. "Either it's the fainting, or the medication that Celeste proscribes..."

"Celeste, I forgot to ask... is she?"

Claudia looked up towards the ceiling, giving out a bitter laugh. "I don't know! She was offered to follow on our ferry, but wanted to attend those who were shocked and wounded... mostly shocked, at the Exercise Grounds. She did not leave with our ferry."

"No news have come out of what has happened with the other ferries either... but then I'm just a Thingsdoe. One out of thirty-seven."

"Why are you letting a Tulip through your door, sister?" Claudia inquired with a stern voice. She had wiped away the tears from her eyes, but the cheeks were still wet. "And an Astis at that! Hmphf!"

"Irma's a dear friend of mine," Caroline explained. "We've helped one another get motions passed. Like the RLA-499.27 - 'The Re-assessment of the Rights of Districts Regarding Cross-District Colonial Land Properties'. Don't tell me you don't like that compromise, sis'?"

"I do."

Arthur's thoughts wandered towards himself, and his situation in this strange new world. He remembered the War, but most of all, he remembered a wonderful, expressionless curly-haired girl, with long, slender limbs and slim features... and now he was here, alone and without a mother. He had not seen Cinnabar either...

"And right now, we have to bury the hatchet with Irma and her grandmother. The Republic should strive for bipartisanship in..."

"What will happen t-t... me?"

Claudia and Caroline turned their faces towards little pathetic Arthur. Caroline gently patted him over the head while Claudia leant down.

"W-will I b-b-b-B-become an... orphan?"

Arthur saw before him how he was going to be driven out from the community, and how he would have to survive by begging, by eating discarded scraps and stealing - until he would be arrested and sentenced to the mines. He started to shiver, despite it being warm inside. Claudia moved before him, kneeled and took his other hand, looking into his eyes.

"Arthur Rusk," she said with a matter-of-fact voice, looking into his eyes with hollow eyes. It was evident she hadn't slept much. "Cynthia, your mother, was a dearer friend of mine than you ever can imagine. Since we were at your age, we have been very close."

Arthur tried to be as attentive as he could, though his mind attempted to wear off in all possible and impossible directions. That happened every time that Celeste had proscribed a dose to him.

"For that reason," Claudia said slowly, marking every word so Arthur would understand, "I am going to the Department of the Census, at the Thingshall. There will be copies there of your birth certificate. I will arrange so your mother is listed as deceased, and that you will be adopted as my son. You will be following me there, later this afternoon."

He swallowed and nodded. A part of him - around his chest - was celebrating. Another, deeper, part was terrified. Everything had changed, reality itself had turned upside down. Birds were tweeting outside; a mild breeze rattled the leaves on the bushes growing at the sides of the façade.

It knocked on the door three times. Caroline went out from the living room, to see who it was who wanted to come in.

"T-t-thank you, aunt C-C-Claudia." He wondered if he was allowed to hug her.

He could hear how Claudia's sister opened the door, and talked to someone standing at the other side. "Yes, he's inside, you want to talk to him?"

Claudia gave him a pale smile and laid her hand on his shoulder. "This evening," she said, "you should call me 'mother', little Artie."

Arthur started to cry, stretched out his arms and fell down from the armchair. Claudia seized him, and embraced him. She too was crying. "You will never be abandoned by us, Arthur," she whispered.

"Naaaw! How sweet!" Arthur could hear a familiar voice. He looked up, his lower lip shivering.

At the door to the corridor, Caroline Rusk stood in the company of Becka Sommer, who was dressed in autumn-green trousers held up by suspenders. A straw hat was adorning her head, it had a purple petunia stuck into its band. A shy smile played over her small lips. She held on to a basket, placed before her hips. It was filled with spinach cookies, strawberries, thyme and clovers.

"Becka!" Arthur let out, so overjoyed he did not care that his face was filled with tears.

She turned her face down, but her green eyes blazed right into his soul. The corners of her shy little mouth turned slightly up.

"Hi Arthur!" she waved. "I just wanted to ask you... if you would like to come and hang?"

Claudia, still sitting on the floor, turned around, alerted. She tightened her grip around Arthur. "And who are you?"

"I'm Becka," Becka answered. Arthur looked straight at her with panicked eyes, shaking his head so his ears moved around.

"Becka who?" Claudia asked, her voice as slippery as honey. Arthur formed his lips silently. Lie. Lie. Lie.

Becka stretched her slender neck while moving down her knee so she almost faced Cinnabar's mother.

"Becka Rusk," she said and offered her hand in a very masculine greeting. "And I am going to take Arthur out for a picnic. That's what I'm going to do."

"That sounds like an amazing idea!" Caroline chirped. "I've baked some buns two days ago... wait for a few moments and I will get you them!"

She ran away to the kitchen. "Ah! How sweet you are Mrs Caroline!" Becka shouted back, her mouth breaking up in a white smile.

Arthur had stood up, preparing to move out. Claudia gripped him at the wrist, and did the same to Becka.

"Do you know this girl, Arthur?" she asked.

"Ehm... y-yes!"

Then she turned towards Becka. "Why should he go out? He's not used to the city, he's on his medicine and his mother... well. I recognise you; you worked on 'The Grand Old Pike'. It was you who stopped the evacuation of the rafts... it probably saved many lives. That was a very... _Ruskish_thing to do, Becka. But why should I let Arthur go out so soon?"

"Because," Becka said with a slightly whiny voice. "The weather is wonderful! The Sun is shining and we all need some fun."

"P-p-please..," Arthur mumbled, looking down at the floor. "M-may I follow Becka?"

Claudia sighed. "Well... yes, yes! Go on you two, out into the fine weather. But I want him back within three hours, for we are going to head towards the Thingshall."

"Thank you!" Arthur said, a stream of tears flowing down his cheeks. "Thank you so very much!"

"Woohoo! Picnic time!" Becka burst out and made a happy little dance on the floor. At that point, Caroline returned with the buns, received a hug by Becka, and the two youths disappeared out from the luxurious apartment.

*

A wide brook flowed down towards the Zudglenné through the Cloverfield Park. Birch trees had been planted at the edges of the running stream, bursting with legions of green leaves which softly danced for the breeze. Becka had wanted them to put their picnic blanket near a small dam held up by an old water-mill, which by now was a cultural heritage site. The water in the pond was almost transparent. Shoals of minnows in diverse colours played around. On the other side, a family of ducks were resting. Arthur found them slightly unsettling.

Becka smiled towards him and leant with her head. "A wonderful green day, isn't it, Little-Big-Ears?"

"I... I like it here," Arthur responded. "P-p-prefer it before the city."

"Ah!" Becka exclaimed. "Good! Arthur? You've... ever climbed a tree?" Her eyes glittered.

Arthur's smile faded and he looked down. His ears sunk. "No..."

Becka laughed and fell down on her side, laying on her elbow while examining him with her inscrutable expression. "That is very fun! Then I can teach you!"

"You... can?"

She took his hand. "Ah," she replied, her bright voice becoming lower as she moved himself towards him. Then a mischievous glimmer appeared in her eyes, and she wrestled him around and started to tickle him on his belly. He jerked his legs in surprise, and jumped away from her fingers, running away twenty steps before suddenly freezing in the grass, lying with his belly pressed against the ground. He could register how Becka's feet closed in, how she was leaning over him.

"Little? Little-Big-Ears? Artie? Are you sleeping?"

She touched him gently, and he flew up flailing his arms and shouting, moving his fingers over her fur and tickling her. She laughed and tickled him back and they fell down in the grass, entwined.

Arthur suddenly tensed. Oh Goddess, what I've done?

Becka looked at him with a pursed mouth. Her fluff of curly hair had fallen before her eyes. She moved it aside with a little jerk of the neck, crossed her arms and gazed sternly at Arthur.

"I... I'm... I'm sorry... I?"

Then she put her thumbs in her ears, and fluttered with her tongue while twisting her upper body in some kind of weird rhythm. It was exceptionally hilarious - Arthur did not know if it was due to Celeste's medicine, but he could not stop rolling around laughing. Whatever it was, it was evidently contagious, for Becka also began laugh, throwing herself on her back into the grass.

As they calmed down, they lied on their backs, watching the woolly clouds trailing past the blue skies. Becka pointed towards one of them, claiming it looked like a wheelbarrow. Arthur saw a carrot. Then Becka saw a wild reindeer. Arthur saw a tree. Becka saw a chicken. Then Arthur saw a ferry, and Becka was quiet for a few moments.

"I... don't like ferries," she replied and changed subject. Arthur turned his face towards her, she wrinkled her nose.

"How come?" Arthur asked and moved himself up on his palms. For the first time, he was entirely relaxed with her. She still lied in her spot, her face turned towards the sky. The light showers - the time when the Sun passed by the Arc - had just began, rays of light flickering down over the fields, portioned out in abundant golden halos.

"Aren't you working on a ferry... or... or is my m-memory failing me?"

It was as if a stone sank down in his guts. He vaguely remembered to have met Becka amongst the sailors of a ferry called 'The Angry Pike' or something like that. With revulsion, Art remembered someone... called 'Andiron' or something like that... laying his arms around Becka... and something about being beaten.

"Maybe I was?" Becka raised one of her eyebrows and turned her back towards Arthur.

"I'm sorry... you aren't any more?"

"Maybe not," she shrugged, with a voice so low it almost was a faint whisper.

"M-May I ask why... not?" Arthur asked. He had become nervous again, and with nervousness, his stutter had reared its ugly head again.

Becka sat up, looking down at him with a neutral face. "It's not funny anymore when the ferries are exploding. I prefer fireworks exploding, not ferries. Don't you, Artie?"

Arthur chuckled a little, but she remained quiet and looked away over the fields. He turned silent.

"I... my mother," he tried.

Becka sighed. "My condolences," she said. "Try not to think about it."

"Sorry for b-b-bringing up t-t-t... t-t-t-T-topic!" Arthur tried.

Becka shrugged, wrinkled her nose and smiled. "No problems!" she purred and licked her lips. She took up a strawberry, biting off one half and giving the other to him. He ate it, but mostly thought about how their fingers touched for less than a second. Every time she touched him, he felt like he had temporarily passed through to another reality.

She gazed over the fields, the gentle wind playing with her curly hair. She is so free, Arthur thought. How can you be so stupid to think that a girl like that would be interested in you?

"Last one to the castle is a turtle!" Becka spurt out as she stormed away on all four. Arthur jumped up, setting up his speed behind her as they traced through the rolling soft hills of the Park. I... must... not... be... seen... as... weak, Arthur thought as he struggled to catch up the girl of his dreams.

Feeling his heart pump for all that he could, he... tripped. Getting up again, shaking his head, he looked around, for she was gone... no there she was, amongst a sea of dandelions. She waved at him. He ran towards her, and she started to run towards the Fair. They entered it from the north, and Arthur flew into a bakery, dragged down a table cloth with three pies on the ground, made an old buck fall from his seat and got tangled in a curtain before he took up after her again.

He touched the base of the wooden castle, so exhausted he almost fell down on the ground.

Becka was leaning against it, smiling gently. "Not too bad, Artie!" she encouraged.

"I... I still lose."

"No," Becka winked and jumped through the splints, moving into the wooden castle. Arthur followed her. The internal area of the structure, which reminded of a ladder scaffold, was like a maze. Three youths came running in the opposite direction. Becka evaded them by hanging from the ceiling of the tunnel, while Arthur was simply ran over. Too focused to be dazzled, they continued to run inward, inside a round tunnel, until they came on the inside of the tower.

Becka raised herself on her legs, looking upward. Then she jumped up on a rope tied with knots, disappearing up. The rope swung as Arthur tried to get a hold on it. Three times he failed, but the fourth time he managed to embrace it, feeling seasick as it moved around in a circular motion. He started to climb slowly, his feet often slipping against the knots, until he had climbed around four feet - then someone gripped his hand. It was Becka.

She helped him on to a wooden platform. "You've not tried this before, Little-Big-Ears?" she smiled.

Arthur looked down, ashamed and with shivering legs.

"I think you are doing it very well," she said and gave him a hug. If he ever had thought about quitting then, such thoughts quickly dissipated. She laughed and then jumped out from the window. Arthur rushed forward, looking out. She was nowhere to be seen around.

"Youhoo!"

She was already well above the window, hanging with her arms from a pole sticking out from the wooden tower. To Arthur's astonishment and dread, she swung around, making a somersault in the air and landing on the flagpole with her feet, before starting to scale the wall.

"Are you sure that is a good idea!?" he yelled after her.

She looked dumbfounded at him, yet continued to climb.

I should not be doing this, he thought as he moved closer to the window. Then he remembered the sensation of her hug, of every time she touched him. If I die here, he reasoned with himself, it will yet be better than having lost her out of cowardice. Rather one day with her... than twenty years alone.

He stepped out on the window frame, grabbed the flagpole. After a moment's hesitation, he allowed himself to go, hanging six feet above the 'courtyard' of the wooden castle. He made a failed attempt to swing one leg over the pole, and then discovered that there was a nearby hole in the wall where he could rest his foot. Slightly above the pole to the left, he found a wooden knob nailed to the wall, so he gripped it and started to climb. Slowly and determiningly, he continued to climb up, oblivious of his own fear of heights.

The tower narrowed down as he struggled upward. Near the top, he once again took Becka's hand, feeling a moment of dizziness before they united on either side of the spire. Her eyes were blinded by the sunlight and narrowed down to two slits, but her smile was so wide.

"Wooh!" she let out. "This is sooo wonderful, Artie!"

"Nnn..," he tried to speak, holding on to the spire as his feet started to struggle. As he looked around, he saw the fair twenty feet beneath him, the rolling fields of the Park, the brook flowing through it, the well-kept woods, and in the north and west the skyline of Glennenmór, including the massive Works in the south-west, the public buildings. Beyond the city, there were a horizon marked by forests, lakes and purple mountains... the vastness of the Earth overwhelmed him...

"Is something wrong?" Becka wondered calmly.

Arthur shook his head frantically, holding on to the spire. His lungs hyperventilated, the heart raced and he shook. Even beneath the remaining fog of the warm poppy milk, his entire spirit was revolting in panic.

He lost his grip...

Becka grabbed the collar of his tunic. He flailed his arms, almost dragging her with him, but then regained his grip of the spire. Looking down for a moment, he saw several hundred Leporians watching the scene, screaming and jumping up and down.

Becka held on to his arms.

"Are you afraid of heights, Artie?" she wondered very calmly.

He nodded, pleadingly. Who was I going to fool?

"But oh!" she let out, in a mixture of mild disappointment and sadness. "Artie! Why didn't you tell me? Then I never would have dragged you up here! We could have swum instead!"

She started to move down.

"D-d-d-don't leave me up here... p-p-please!"

"You kidding? No, we need to get you down, but first I need you to answer a question, Artie. Do you trust me?"

He nodded, after a moment's of hesitation.

"Ah. Good," Becka said, without revealing any emotions. Try to move around, so your back's against the southern end, here." She tapped at one point.

Arthur started to move around, excruciatingly slow, each step taking like five seconds each. Becka was now right below him.

"You still trust me, Little?" she chirped with a happy voice as she moved up behind him, holding her chest against his back.

"Y-yes."

"Take a deep breath, and close your eyes. Don't move, and if you feel better, close your eyes."

She placed her arms around his waist, just under his armpits.

"I..," he said.

She fell backward, and Art gave out an echoing scream. If not everyone had been looking at them already, they certainly were now. As they fell back, he kicked and jerked, but Becka held on to him with one arm. He could see the entire world spin around, surprisingly slowly... they bounced as Becka had grabbed one of the toils - belonging to a rope bridge between two of the lesser climbing towers. They hung suspended in the air for a few moments, allowing Arthur to feel her breath against his ears.

Then she released her grip, fell down so she lied underneath him. They bounced up before falling down again on the trampoline. Arthur rolled off it, landing on the dirt ground, coughing as he could feel the contents of his belly moving around. Becka was sliding down beside him.

They were surrounded by a crowd of onlookers, amongst them a brown doe dressed in a green tunic with a thatch in the form of a crown sewn over the chest.

"And what was this!?" she demanded to know, attempting to make her panicked voice sound authoritative. "You need to wear the protective vests and the security lines before you climb the Sky Tower!"

"G-g-g..," Arthur tried.

"I'm very sorry..," Becka tried.

"And jumping like that! Are you mad, girl!? You could've broken your neck or your wrist!"

"Ah," Becka replied as calmly as usual. Arthur tried to stand up, but his legs refused to obey him. He was helped up by two youths dressed in similar green tunics. He assumed that they were the staff of the Fair. He grabbed the one of the poles holding up the trampoline, avoiding looking up at the Sky Tower for all it was worth.

"My friend became sick up there," Becka explained. "I could not heave him down... and he would've fallen had I not jumped."

"Young lady!" the Fair intendent said, having put her hands at her hips to make herself broad and imposing. "That is why you're having the security ropes!"

"Oh!" Becka let out self-depreciatingly and smacked herself on the forehead. "But we weren't told!"

Arthur turned around, trying to inhale some air. He stood face to face with Cinnabar and Lyra, the former somewhat limping and garbed in a strange padded vest with copper rings attached to the back.

"Art!" Cinnabar grunted. "Are you alright?"

"C-C-Cinnie, what..."

The slap hit him like lightning from a blue sky. He was struck down and actually rolled on the ground, looking up while massaging his sore cheek. Lyra held on to Cinnabar's arm, with a worried expression of her face.

"Did you really have to hit him so hard?"

Through half-closed eyes, Arthur could see Cinnie turn towards her. "I had to! He's hysterical!"

Lyra turned towards Arthur, leaning her head and examining almost like a physician would. "He doesn't seem to be to me."

"He is!" Cinnabar gritted.

"But you don't have to hit him!" Lyra complained. "You only did that because you are angry at him!"

"Angry at him? Angry at him? I'm angry at her!" he pointed towards Becka, who right now was surrounded by three staff members and thumping with her foot on the ground.

"It isn't fair!" she complained and crossed her arms.

"Yes, it is young doe! You and your friends are banished for two months from this Fair!"

Becka spun around dragging her ears, closing her eyes and making a frustrated sound. "Aaaaarrrrrghhhh!"

"But tell her!" Lyra ordered Cinnabar.

"Well, well! I will!" he said and turned around towards Becka.

"Oh, hi Cinnie-boy!" she exclaimed. Cinnabar stood stunned for a moment. Then he clenched his fist and tried to deliver a strike right at Becka's face.

"B-Becka, look out!" Arthur yelled.

The next moment, Cinnabar stood and watched his hand in disbelief. Becka had swiftly rolled away and was now standing up behind him. The staff intendant lied unconscious on the ground. Her two aides ran to Cinnabar's sides and grabbed his arms.

Lyra turned around. "Now I'm leaving you kids! Have a nice day!"

*

Cinnabar had not thought that anything could make this day worse than it already was... when one of the brutes pushing him out of the exit to the Fair landed him a kick on his butt.

"Ouch! What you think you're doing?"

Arthur was simply thrown down on the ground, while Becka was pushed so she fell forward and made a cartwheel, standing up on her feet again and making faces to the guard.

"And stay out!" one of the guards let out angrily, before closing the wooden gate.

Becka shook her head, biting her lower lip, seemingly oblivious to the pure, glowing white rage which pulsated at her from Cinnabar's look.

"So typical!" she sighed. "They're not listening!"

Art stood up, surprisingly unaffected - at least judging from his confused expression. He would have to take a long talk with his friend later, but first he had to deal with... that thing, which right now seemed preoccupied with making cartwheels and somersaults around the grass.

He stomped on the ground and place his thumbs at his waist, tensing the arms.

"Ehum!Becka!"

It stopped rolling around randomly, instead sitting on the ground smiling. "Ah?" it said.

"Leave us."

It stood up. "You're going to something important, Cinnie?"

"Don't 'Cinnie' me. You know I was climbing that tower, right?

"You..," Arthur mumbled.

Cinnabar threw an angry glance at his friend. Yes, Art, he thought. I came up two feet, then the damn knob broke under my feet and I fell down on the instructor, tangling myself in the rope... darn!

"Oh," Becka chirped, "maybe not good to do that when we were up there... could've been to many of us there. Well, goodbye boys! May I come and see you tomorrow, Little-Big-Ears?"

"Y-y..," Art tried.

Cinnabar placed himself between his best friend and this crazy doe. He was certain now that there was something wrong with Becka's head, and he had heard that does that were... 'a bit unstable', could flinch out in sudden rage, trying to scratch out the eyes of unsuspecting rational persons like himself.

"There'll be no tomorrow, Becka," Cinnabar said.

"Oh, you're already leaving?"

"Stay. Away. From. Arthur."

With a little roar, Arthur rushed towards his friend waving his tiny arm with a fist clenched. Cinnabar fended him off by placing the palm of his hand on the boy's forehead, making Arthur fall down, panic and run away a few steps. He gave Cinnabar an angry look.

"Why?" Becka wondered, crossing its arms. "Are we not all friends?"

"I'm not your friend."

Becka's jaw dropped, and it acted surprised. "But yes you are, Cinnie!"

"No. Stop hurting Arthur. You are making him confused... well, you are making me confused! And I don't like people who make me confused!"

"Arthur, am I making you confused?" Becka whined.

"N..."

"Art. Shut up," Cinnabar ordered his best friend.

Art jerked his ears and stomped the ground several times, using both feet. "W-W-WHAT YOU HAVE AGAINST HER!? SHE'S NEVER D-D-DONE ANYTHING T-T-TO YOU! I K-K-KNOW, YOU'RE... YOU'RE JEALOUS! B-B-BECAUSE BECKA WANTS TO HANG OUT WITH ME! WHY YOU D-D-DON'T GO TO LYRA!"

"SHE IS DANGEROUS!" Cinnabar protested, pointing at Becka as if it was an inanimate object. "OR SHOULD I SAY; IT IS DANGEROUS!? I'M NOT DAMN SURE WHAT YOU ARE, BUT STAY AWAY FROM MY FRIEND, YOU MONSTER!"

The only one seeming to be entirely calm was Becka. It stood and looked like a question mark on a little grass thatch nearby.

"Am I... a monster?" it asked, then started to smile mischievously. "May I... be a green monster?"

That made him lose it. He gave out a guttural growl, and then proceeded to plunge on all fours towards it. It was lucky for it that it jumped away, for he was going to bury his incisor teeth in its flesh. He was still growling as he ripped the thatch to shreds with his hands.

He stood up, looking at it, both strangely empowered and terrified by the anger he just had displayed.

"Are you that angry we got banished from the Fair?" Becka wondered, with big innocent eyes. Your eyes may be belonging to an angel, Cinnabar thought, but they aren't fooling me, you Devil. You... thief... stealing my best friend away from me...

He took a step forward, holding on to a piece of dirt with his hands.

"I won't let you hurt my friend, Becka."

"B-b-but..!" Arthur interjected.

"SHUT UP!" Cinnabar shouted back, surprised by how much he sounded like his mother.

"I did not hurt him! Hmphf! Now you are mean, Cinnie!"

It blackened for his eyes as he gave out a new roar.

Somehow, he had ended up in the brook, holding on to a pair of trousers with suspenders and a twig. He was entirely covered in dirt and grass. As he slowly strolled back, surprisingly content, he found Art sitting on the path towards the Fair, crying, and Cornelia was attempting to console him. She turned around towards Cinnabar, her facial expression freezing into a shocked grimace as she saw him.

"Cindy!What have you done!?" she let out. "Arthur tells me you've been fighting with the staff and then scared away his girl-friend! And now you're coming back like this!"

Cinnabar shrugged his shoulders. "It's a looong story, sis."

"Well..," Cornelia sighed. "I'm feeling for giving you a good looong beating, bro. But we don't have the time. Mother wants us - Art included - to be at the Thingshall in less than one hour."

"Why?"

"Because."

Arthur stood up, wiping his snout. "I'm not g-g-going!" he announced defiantly.

Cornelia shook her head. "Oh yes you are!"

"I'm not! I hate you! I'm going home!"

Then he tried to run away, but Cornelia grabbed his ears, making him fall flat on his back. "Let me go! Let me go! LET ME GO!"

Cornelia slowly turned his ears around, with a determined look on his face.

"T-THAT HURTS!" Art shouted. "STOP! LET ME GO!"

"I won't let you go," Cornelia explained. "But I will stop, if you promise to be a nice boy and stop attempting to do stupid things."

Arthur fell down, a resigned heap of tears and sobbing.

"Sister, you are ruthless!" Cinnabar exclaimed with a mixture of awe and horror.

Cornelia gave him one look, before kicking him on the knee, making him jump around holding on to it, while water flowed out from his ears.