Firebrand Risk
Kalon 9
July 07, 2025

Kalon fought her way into the crowded salon. She murmured apologies for stepping on toes and jabbed elbows, each time getting more and more irate. She threw herself against the counter like breaking from drowning. Her long, brown curls were disheveled with her hair clip dangling uselessly in the tangle, caught in the solitary royal blue streak.

“It’s mad in here!”

“I’m aware.” Strauss bounced her baby girl on her hip, shushing her as she gave the crowd an irate stare. “I told you lot to clear out! We’re closed!”

“Good business though, right?”

“Hardly! I only had two or three actual customers all day. The rest of those hens were just tagalongs to sit and gossip with them. I swear, each woman brought half a dozen friends in with her.” Strauss’s glare deepened as she let out a long groan. “Hold Isabelline a tick.”

Kalon took the baby as Strauss circled around the counter, grabbing her broom. She had the baby girl watch her mother chase the gaggle out with great sweeping motions for a second, ensuring she was calm, before carrying her off to the backroom.

Mal sat in a playpen, studying plastic scissors. His head jerked up as Isabelline whimpered. He scrambled to pull himself up, his blue eyes tearing up as he opened his mouth to reveal three bottom teeth.

“Maaaaa!”

“Shush, Mal, I’m right here.” Kalon awkwardly dipped to keep Isabelline from Mal’s grabby hands while also rubbing his back. “Shh, I’m here. Just wait for Auntie Strauss to fetch Isabelline.”

Strauss appeared just as Kalon finished her statement. She still looked agitated but happily plucked her daughter from Kalon’s arms.

“Your hair is still a state.”

Kalon twisted her curls into a knot, clipping it up. She pulled Mal from the pen, resting him on her hips.

“I'm sorry to keep dropping him on you when you've been so swamped.” She stroked his brown hair. “And while he's cutting teeth.”

“You must stop apologizing each time you fetch him. It's safer here than at the library right now.” Strauss smirked. “And I'll remind you, often, that you agreed to take Isabelline for just as many days once she’s teething.” Her smirk waivered. “How was it at the library today?”

“Gramps shot a person. Not fatally, of course, but it sets a tense tone all the same.”

“Mrs. Gousa still hasn’t put forth her summary, I take it?” Strauss groaned at Kalon’s head-shake. “At least when that old First Son popped back up and died, it was sudden. I had just a week or so of madness, and that disappeared as soon as Mrs. Gousa put forth her summa.”

“There was no gossip beforehand as well.”

“Exactly! And, with that being a United Americas thing, we have a removement from it all. It was a proper spectacle we could gawk at. But this!”

Strauss burst into tears. She cradled her daughter, trying to comfort her as she started whining in distress over her mother’s outburst.

Kalon took Mal’s chubby hand as he pointed, open-mouthed. She kissed it, swallowing the lump in her own throat.

They took a few minutes to apologize and comfort each other for the emotions and the distress to the kids before Kalon left with Mal. She adjusted him on her hip frequently as they headed towards the library; her mind wandering off to the reasons for the chaos, trying not to think too hard on it.

The official announcement that the Paris Colony heir would be a father caused great excitement for the following five months. It had been busy at work, but an enjoyable sort where there were constant pauses to speak theories and hopes with those visiting the library. Everyone had been in such a joyful mood that no one even attempted stealing or vandalizing. This mood turned completely celebratory once the baby girl was born; cafes offering free food and drinks to whoever wandered by, clothing stores giving away baby items at heavy discounts, and everyone having a friendly wave or greeting to any person they made eye contact with.

The euphoric atmosphere lasted two months, only starting to wane when the horror occurred.

She paused beside the largely ignored, badly maintained news kiosk. The screen that should have smoothly cycled through trending stories was stuck–flickering, heavily lined with damage–on a still of the Foxcroft granddaughter and Paris Colony heir dressed up smartly, standing outside the Lord’s mansion house, holding a bundle of delicate pink and lace. The smushed face of their newborn daughter barely visible among the blankets. The headline yelled: Paris Colony Granddaughter Missing, Presumed Murdered.

“Maaaa!”

She snapped to. “Sorry, Mal, Mummy was spacing.” She adjusted him again. “We should hurry back to get your dinner ready.”

The library was closed up for the night, dark and imposing. Mal’s hungry whines and Kalon’s heels echoed throughout as they made their way to the dwelling beneath. She was fast to deposit him into his chair, leaving him to protest the abandonment and lack of food.

She dug through the fridge to pull mashed sweet potatoes and overcooked chicken, shredded beyond recognition. Her brow knitted as she spotted Grams’s lunch still plated and wrapped, completely untouched.

“Maaaa!”

“Yes, coming!” She grabbed the lunch too, placing it out. “You act as if Auntie Strauss wasn’t feeding you snacks sporadically all day.”

Gramps appeared from the stairs. He strained to put his pistol on top of a bookcase, far from reach of anyone else. He immediately went to Mal, patting his head and taking the chair opposite.

“I’ll feed your boy. Scrounge something up for the rest of us.”

“Grams didn’t touch the lunch I made.”

The old librarian’s keen eyes darted towards the kitchen, and then to his wife’s working area. He took Mal’s food up.

“Take it to her. I’ll see about food for us if he eats quickly.”

She hovered outside the doorless doorway, clutching the plate of cold chicken with both hands. The room beyond was well lit with the ceiling light, desk light, and floor lamp all on, but it might as well have been pitch black and freezing. She inched into the heavy atmosphere.

Grams was hunched at the desk. The glow of her laptop caused her to look wraith-like. Her colorless hair was unkempt and added to the haunted effect.

“Grams?” Kalon carefully placed the plate on the desk in a clear space. “You should eat.”

There was no argument from Grams on this point. She leaned away from her screen, blinking the red strain from her eyes, and deftly plucked a chicken leg from the plate.

“She could be dead.”

Kalon felt a chill at the bluntness. “I thought she was…? The blood was hers.”

“Oh no, not the baby.” Grams took a mighty bite. “Not much hope there.” She swallowed. “The mother. That Foxcroft girl.”

Her breath caught. “Pardon?” She dropped into the armchair Grams used for more cozy information gathering sessions. “I don’t understand….”

“Of course not, my girl. More of a shadow of a rumor at this point.” She waved flippantly towards the doorway. “They feel something though, I suspect. They feel something wrong about the sudden lack of attention on her. They just don’t know they do.”

“Surely the lack of attention is to allow the poor woman to mourn.”

“That’s precisely why there would be more attention.” Grams set her sharp eyes to Kalon. “Do not let your good heart be fooled into thinking colonials wouldn’t attempt capitalizing on this politically. They are not like us.”

“They are people.”

“People are not all the same.” She turned her focus back to her food. “You’re too quick to forget that Arios Washington supposedly met a similar fate as a child. He was written off for political gains, and everyone would’ve continued to buy that had he not come back from the dead.” She gestured to her screen. “Something is happening in Paris Colony. Did the mother murder the child? Did the in-laws? Is she murdered at all?”

“But the Foxcroft granddaughter disappearing from the public eye…?”

“Yes, that is what I’m attempting to discover. I cannot in good faith put out a summa until I get that piece.” She held her empty plate out to Kalon without looking away from her screen. “Her vanishing is not something her in-laws want. That is the only tangible bit I’ve got. Now, is it guilt? Grief?” She wagged her plate impatiently. “Clear this out and leave me to it.”

“Do try for some sleep tonight, Grams.” Kalon wrinkled her nose. “And perhaps a shower….”

She leaned against the wall, taking breaths to calm the swirl of information and emotions Grams had helped ushered. She exhaled as Mal called out for her, putting on a smile and hurrying off to relieve Gramps.

---

The heavy overcast reflected the mood of the people perfectly. No sooner than Grams relented and released her summary–giving way to the official narrative that the Paris Colony granddaughter had been slain–did an additional development emerge.

Alouette Foxcroft had disappeared from the eye due to being found collapsed in her room two days after the attack on her daughter. The details remained tightly hushed. The rumors flew in the streets, in the salon, in the library, all of them grim.

Kalon bounced Mal on her hip as she carried him through the early, gray light. “Auntie Strauss is going to be quite busy and a tad upset, so you need to be on your best behavior today.” She frowned. “I hope all this sorrow doesn’t cause long term affect to you and Isabelline. It’d be horrid if you have a negative outlook on life due to all this.”

She slowed as she became aware that there was a person leaning on the building ahead. There was an agitation to their posture, like a cornered animal ready to lash out. She held Mal tight to the point he started to push her away in protest.

“Thought I’d run into you eventually if I camped out here.”

Her shoulders relaxed as she recognized the strange accent. She offered Khoa a smile, but it weakened when his posture stayed coiled.

His inky black hair was longer, partly obscuring his dark brown and hazel eyes and creating a frame that highlighted his face shape and gave his neck a longer, more elegant appearance. The rip-like scar on his mouth and cunning glint in his eyes reminded Kalon that she needed to wade into any interaction with him.

“I almost believe you wouldn’t come by again.” She adjusted Mal. “He’s getting big, isn’t he?”

“Do you have a car?”

“Do I–? What? Why?” She turned slightly, just enough to put Mal a fraction further from Khoa. “No. I’ve never–.”

“The old man doesn’t have one?”

“He has a van, but the thing is ancient. I’m not sure–.”

“Borrow it.”

“What? You want me to steal–?”

“Ask him first if you need to. I can drive.”

She narrowed her green eyes, scowling in irritation. “What is all this about?” Her heart missed a beat. “Is Innit all right?”

“He’s a bastard, but whatever.” Khoa crossed his arms. “He’s done what he said he needed, but now he’s lookin’ for any reason to do more. There ain’t no reason for it. It’s annoyin’.”

“So… you want me to see him… because he’s getting on your nerves?”

Khoa shrugged. “Good a reason as any.”

Kalon cocked her head. “Is it?”

“If you don’t want to see him, just say it and I’ll leave. I can always see if Bex has something to distract him from being an idiot.”

“No!” She cleared her throat to cover for her hasty, higher tone. “I’ll see him. I want to. I….” She pet Mal’s brown hair, smiling at the wary way he stared at Khoa. “I need to prepare first. Drop Mal off. Ask for the van. Et cetera.”

“Fine. Don’t be too long.” Khoa pushed away from the wall. “Probably keeps that van out in the parkin’ garage with the other townie cars. I’ll wait there. Just for a couple of hours.”

She waited until Khoa had vanished around a corner before heading the two doors down to the salon. She deposited Mal into the playpen in the back, receiving a great cry of protest that she ignored. She tucked a container of food and two bottles into the small fridge in the corner before kissing the top of her son’s head.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“You’re in a hurry this morning?” Strauss swayed side-to-side, pressing Isabelline close. “Any news?”

“Not yet, but surely Grams will find something tangible soon. We’re going on a week now. They can’t stay quiet forever.” She picked at her violet nails. “I’m seeing Innit soon.”

“Innit? As in Mal’s father?” Strauss’s eyes hardened. “Kalon….” She shook her head. “No. I won’t say anything. Do as you think you must.” She bit her lip. “Are you telling him about Mal?”

“I haven’t decided. His life is so… complicated. I can’t see how that would do Mal any good. He has enough setbacks without dragging in a person that may always have one foot out the door.”

“Twat.” Strauss laughed weakly. “Sorry. I’ll say no more. Promise.”

Kalon headed out before Strauss broke that promise, and before her nerves sabotaged her into being late to meet Khoa by way of getting into a banter. She fought her way through the line already forming outside the library.

Gramps took his hand off the pistol on his hip as she entered. “Oh, there you are. Was young Malvern difficult?”

“No… I heard word of Innit.” She looked away before she could get a solid look of what expression Gramps had, picking her nails. “Can you manage on your own today?”

“What do you think will come of this?”

“I’m not sure….” She stuffed her hands in her pockets to stop her picking. “I believe I owe it to Mal to gauge if his father is in a spot to be his father though. And,” she swallowed roughly, “I’m worried about him. I want to see if he’s all right.”

Gramps was silent long enough that Kalon looked up at him to make sure he had not wandered off. His mouth was a tight line. His eyes narrowed in concentration.

“I imagine you are bringing this to my attention not only because you’ll miss work while we’re so busy, but because you need something else? My pistol?”

“The van.”

“You cannot drive.” His expression soured. “Ah, it’s that other boy that told you all this. Perhaps you need the pistol as well after all.”

“I’ll bring my baton.”

“I’ll allow it, but I have a request. Do not tell him about young Malvern. Speak to him if you must, but keep your boy’s existence unknown.”

She gave a reluctant nod.

“I also strongly advise you to say nothing to Pistachio when you fetch the keys. If you’re quiet, she’ll likely not notice you at all.”

She crept downstairs, took her baton from her vanity, and picked up the key from its hook. She tried to say something to Gramps as she left, but unsure if she wanted to express gratitude or optimism, she mumbled incoherently instead.

Khoa was standing at the mouth of the parking garage looking irate at the pace she walked.

It took a few minutes to start the van. Grasses had grown into the rusted crevasses of the body, and some type of rodent had used the gaps in the engine for hibernation. The brakes creaked and the whole thing rattled more than Kalon remembered, but Khoa was successful in getting it from the garage and out onto the street.

“Innit’s got a car. I’ll drop you off and bring this one back to swap with mine. I’ll stash the key in that hole that had the weeds.”

“You have your own car?”

“Bex let me borrow his.”

“Really? For more than half a year?”

Khoa shrugged. “It ain’t like I planned on being away that long.” The corner of his mouth curled. “Besides, his parents made him.”

“Bex has parents?”

He gave a snort and an eye roll, but elaborated no further.

She craned her neck to watch the roundabout pass. She had not left Dijon since Gramps brought her home. There was a melancholy weight on her chest over it, but none of the anxiety she had expected.

She leaned back in her seat and glanced at Khoa. “How’s Innit look?”

His sleek eyebrows knit together. “Like Innit? Blue eyes. Freakishly blond hair. He ain’t got fat or gross or nothing.”

She went to clarify but shut her mouth and leaned against the window. She would bet Khoa knew exactly what she had asked and was trying to toy with her, some type of retribution for making him wait, for making him feel the need to seek her out to start with.

She drummed her fingers on the dashboard. “What are Bex’s parents like?”

“Dunno.”

“Of course you do!”

“Why? Because of the car thing?”

She narrowed her green eyes at him. “How long is this drive?”

He smirked.

---

The drive was thankfully not much longer than an hour outside of Dijon. The town was nestled in a dramatic bend in the river, giving it waterfront on three sides. The architecture was similar to Dijon with stone roads and whitewashed stone buildings, except more than half these buildings were ruins. There were rusted out cylinders–airplane hulls–among some of these ruins.

Khoa wretched the van into park. “He’s campin’ out in the Rivotte Bastion. Just follow this road straight down. You’ll know it when you see it.” He pointed to the squat, square tower in front of them. “Looks like that, in case you’re too spacey.”

“Is there not a car park near it?”

“Lots of them.”

“Well?”

“What?”

“I’m in heels, Khoa. Can’t you drop me nearer? Or best option, just escort me directly to Innit.” She sighed at his stare. “What if Innit doesn’t agree to drive me back? Or, what if he’s already gone off somewhere else? I can’t be wandering a strange town all day. I’ve got to get back to the baby.”

She opened her mouth angrily as he cut off the engine, but shut it as he threw open his door.

“I ain’t goin’ to try re-parkin’ this heap. C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

She followed Khoa half a step behind due to her shoes and not knowing where she was. They kept the river to their left, moving with a conflicting lazy agitation.

The Rivotte Bastion was soon in sight, looking as square and squat as the tower they parked near. The walk would have been easy enough for Kalon on her own, and it was near enough there was a slim chance she could have gotten within sight and shouting distance of Khoa should she had discovered Innit was not there and needed a ride back.

She hugged herself as a cold breeze came off the water. She took out her hair clip to better warm her neck, looking sideways at Khoa with his short hair and t-shirt.

“Are you chilly at all?”

“What’re you gonna do about it if I am?” He looked her over. “You ain’t got a jacket to give me.”

“I was attempting to show you humanity and compassion.”

“By reminding me I’m cold?”

“My mistake.” She eyed him, focusing on the scar on his mouth. “This is going to be a stupid question–.”

“Great.”

“--but was that painful?” She tapped her mouth to show what she meant.

“You’re right, that was stupid.”

Further elaboration did not come, but it was just as well with the entrance to the bastion just feet away.

Khoa swept his hand dramatically, bowing slightly. “Your prince charming awaits.”

“How did you manage to make something so cheesy sound so ominous?” She rocked up on her toes to attempt to see better, but did not wander in. “Are you certain he’s still there? It’s rather dark.”

Khoa spun, narrowed his eyes against the light, and pointed. “His car is over there. He’s here.” He leaned against the doorway, setting her in his sights. “Are you scared?”

“Of… the dark?”

“Of seeing Innit.”

The comment caused her pause. It had not occurred to her that she had hesitations in seeing Innit. It was not as if they parted friendly, and she had kept Mal’s existence from him. There was no way to know how he would react to that, if she decided to tell him at all.

“Of course not. I’m rather looking forward to it.”

Khoa scoffed, pushed away from the doorway, and headed inside.

Kalon crept after him, wrinkling her nose and scooting around molding cardboard boxes from someone attempting to use the bastion as storage. The mess did not appear to register with Khoa, and she soon fell behind as he rushed ahead.

“I’ve read too many stories about stupid women walking into obvious death traps to be doing this….”

She jumped at the sounds of crashing, like some of the boxes were kicked or shoved over. She inched towards the sound with her heart pounding. She paused at Innit’s voice.

“Why’d you do that! Now it’s all–.”

“You ain’t payin’ attention, that’s why! You even move since I left?”

“You don’t get it, Khoa. I’m so close to figurin’ out if she’s dead or not. …Magpie ain’t sayin’ nothing…. There ain’t a chance in hell he knew about this….”

“Yeah, he’s probably cryin’ his eyes out. Leave him to it, and move on with your life.”

“What life? All I got is tryin’ to sort out–.”

She jumped again as another set of boxes was knocked over. She could see Khoa standing stiff-legged over the destruction, fists clenched as he bore down on Innit. He sat on the floor, with only his platinum hair visible to her.

“Stop!” Khoa growled-groaned up at the stone ceiling. “Just stop it, Innit. You did enough. You ain’t doin’ nothing but wastin’ time.”

“Yeah? And is me tryin’ to help you wastin’--?”

“Yes! You can’t save me, Innit!” Khoa kicked over another stack of boxes at Innit’s inaudible murmur. “Y’know what? Fine. But I ain’t stickin’ ‘round for you to use me as an excuse.”

Kalon jerked and leapt aside as Khoa spun and charged her direction. She shrank as he stopped behind her, casting a furious look her way.

“Told you he was being a dumbass.”

“You… said bastard….”

Khoa’s lip curled. “Whatever he is, he ain’t my problem.”

She turned to track Khoa’s rtreating form, teetering on following after him and demanding a ride back. She looked back at the blond figure hunched over his laptop, eyes fixed on the screen. The milky light washed him out and made his hair glow. Her mouth twitched against a smile, and she turned back his way, slowly creeping forward.

Eyes still locked on his screen, Innit straightened slightly. “Kalon?” He looked up, mouth drooping open. “K-Kalon!” He set the laptop down as he scrambled to his feet, leaning forward and just as suddenly pulling back. “I don’t…? How are you here?” He scowled. “Khoa….”

“He took off in the van and left me without a ride home.” She gazed at her toes, swaying anxiously. “Give me a lift back?”

She dared look up when it was quiet too long, exhaling to see Innit stuffing bits of clothing and his laptop in his suitcase. She stepped aside to allow him to pass, giving him a smile that was not returned. She trotted after him, sticking close to his back until she stepped from the musty bastion.

She followed him to the lot Khoa had flippantly waved at, over to a slate gray Cadillac with knicks and dings that added character more than detracted. She touched a chip in the door.

“It’s well loved and still a beauty.”

“It was Dice’s.” Innit slammed the trunk down after tossing his bag in. “You can get in. It’s not locked.”

She climbed into the front passenger seat and watched Innit push the ignition on. His knuckles were white on the wheel, his arms tense as he steered them from the lot. She followed the curve of his arms to his shoulders, his neck, his ear–the tip red–and eyed his angular jaw. Her eyes darted away as his blue ones shot to her.

“You let your hair keep growin’. Added some color too.”

“Yes.” She tugged her royal blue lock straight. “My friend thought it accented my complexion and caused my dull hair to look less dull.”

“I never reckoned your hair color was dull.” He cleared his throat. “If you like it, that’s what matters.” His fingers tapped the wheel. “So… why’d you get in a car with Khoa? Did y’all get more friendly?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” She chipped at her violet nail polish. “More of an understanding of sorts. …I know he’s sick.” She smiled weakly. “He was so angry with me when I asked if you had it.” She reddened. “I-I mean, of course I knew rationally that you didn’t. You would have told me.”

“You reckon? Seems like the type of thing I’d want no one to ever know.”

“Perhaps, but if I tried to get into your pants, you wouldn’t have let me, and you would’ve had to tell me why.”

“Or I could’ve slept with you and vanished. It ain’t like I’ve never done that before.”

The air thickened between them. Kalon looked at the scenery a second before allowing her eyes to wander back to Innit. She studied his slender fingers on the steering wheel, not daring to gauge what his expression was.

“I reckon that’s something we should talk about….”

“It was hurtful and at times I still am cross over it.”

“Just jumpin’ right in.”

“I had such a horrid morning, and I had thought that night would validate everything I had said about you. About our relationship. But, no, instead you run off and I hear no word of you for near two years!” She threw her hands up. “I looked such a fool on top of all the heartbreak and–.” She swallowed her next words quickly, laughing shakily to cover it. “I worried about you, you know.”

“Sorry.” His cheeks tinted red. “That ain’t enough, and I meant for right now and for then and… I ain’t got any idea what’d I be able to say to make it okay.”

“Words would never be enough.”

“I reckon so….”

Kalon drummed her fingers on her knee. “Don’t just not try! Some sort of explanation is in order.” She sighed heavily. “Have you at least accomplished what you abandoned me for?”

“Abandoned is harsh.”

“Accurate.” She gathered her hair to one side to fiddle with her curls. “I thought you were going to propose to me, Innit, in case you’ve forgotten that bit.”

Innit’s eyes bugged. “What? We definitely did not have that conversation. There ain’t no way in hell I'd forget that.”

“Oh… perhaps I was too vague with my expectations of that night….”

“What I remember is you sittin’ there, cryin’, and that look you had when you accused me of not lovin’ you.” He tightened his grip. “I saw it almost every night before fallin’ asleep.”

Her heart flittered. She reached over, gently brushing the short hair around his ears. She smirked as she saw him gulp.

“I nearly feel awful for that making me feel better.”

“I reckon that’s something….” He took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Reckon we could start over?”

She recoiled, knitting her fingers together in her lap. She tensed as the air grew heavy once more. Her mouth went dry.

“We can't.”

Innit’s face went redder as he re-tightened his grip on the wheel. “Right. No. Sorry. With how you touched my ear….” He shook his head. “Forget it.” His fingers bounced against the wheel. “There ain’t no way it’s another guy though, right? Not with you comin’ out here and gettin’ me all hot ‘n’ bothered. You ain’t like that.”

“Not another guy in that way….” She took a deep breath. “I had your son while you were gone.”

There was no indication he had heard her. His expression was neutral, his fingers as tight on the wheel as before. She had not even seen any quickening in his breathing. She frowned as the seconds dragged on.

“Innit, did you–? Innit! Road!”

He jumped and cranked the wheel to avoid flying off a curve. The car screeched to a halt with Kalon slamming into the dashboard.

------------

The one thing with writing on g.docs is I can't highlight and see how many words I have (or haven't figured out how to do it) so just put up sections when I feel like I've been writing them too long. I was not going to cut the end off like that (spoiler: super mild car misshap, no big deal at all) but you don't really need to see Kalon going 'yooo wut you doing' and stepping out to just not be sitting in the car.

There is clearly something bad going on with Alouette and it ties into Magpie having Rouen, and Alouette master plan (sort of). Oh, and Isabelline is a color. I thought it was appropriate for the hair dresser/tattooist to name her kid after a color.

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October 03, 2026
Carnival of Curiousities

Last night was the opening night of the People's Plaza art show, Catclaw Carnival of Curiousities, and I went since I was featured in one of the pieces. It was a very unique show full of circus oddities, a real live bearded woman (man lol), and big paintings, sculptures and photographs of carnival sideshow acts. It was fun to be included as a Live Mermaid 😁

My coworker, whose husband took the photo, also painted the two-headed clown. It's massively huge, like over 8 feet tall. Fun stuff!

September 03, 2026
There But For the Grace of God

Original Song by Eric Woolfson & Alan Parsons
From the Freudiana album
Vocal cover by Jill D'Entremont

No one is an island, no one born alone
No man can turn the tide of fortune on his own
Though some may bravely try...

Say there but for the grace of God go you, my friend
Say there but for the grace of God go I...

--

This has always been one of my favorites from the Freudiana album, with absolutely incredible vocal by John Miles that I only hope I can measure up a fraction to. And, because this is me, I added a billion more backing vocals while I was at it :)

October 29, 2026
DO.Penny.15

An ear-splitting scream rang out across the house; Penny throwing herself into a sitting position, drenched in cold sweat. Her shaking hand went to the large, bandaged bite beneath her pajamas, feeling the small bumps of the stitching.

The bedroom was plain and of a modest size with just one window. Pre-dawn gray light was beginning to shine through, washing out the sharp corners of the walls. It was a cold, listless room, but familiar in that Penny had used it before when the Sizemores watched her during her time with the Lamberts. Comfort was still not a word that came to mind despite this familiarity.

There was no more sleep to squeeze out with her nightmare coming so soon to sunrise. She stared at her blank ceiling, mouthing what she could remember of a mantra, prayer, or hymn that Aisling used to repeat to her over and over when she was small. She stayed put until she was certain breakfast was well underway downstairs.

“You need to work on those nightmares,” Mrs. Sizemore said crossly, setting cold cereal on the table. “Trauma or no, we have jobs we need to get up for.”

“Don’t think seeing a girl’s guts all spread around is an easy get over,” Aaliyah muttered under her breath, further covering her comment with a long drink of coffee.

Penny and her briefly met each other’s eyes before continuing with breakfast in silence.

Her fostering by the Sizemores had been delayed a week to treat her injury, be debriefed by police and rangers, to start off on therapy, and to be sure the Sizemores still wanted to deal with her now that she had extra baggage (and a smaller stipend with new expenses resulting from that baggage). Whether Aaliyah was explicitly told what had happened, or if she overheard something, she had been giving Penny a pass on her usual bullying. She was not nice to her in any regard, mainly ignoring her, but in ways Penny appreciated that more.

Her friends at school, and Colton, wanted to hear all the details, ask how she was, but there was an unspoken rule between all of them not to bring it up. It felt stagnant between them, and as if everyone was trying too hard not to pull away into other groups or activities to escape the crushing lapses of awkward silences.

There was the tiniest highlight of Colton now avoiding her as much as she had been avoiding him before. He would make a show of greeting her, sometimes putting his arm around her shoulders as they walked, but then spent the rest of the school day apart or with a friend or two between them. Penny knew it wasn't sustainable; it was a question of which of them would be the first to say it out loud.

She flinched as Colton dropped his arm around her shoulders as she arrived at school. He quickly withdrew.

“Did I touch your…,” he trailed off, his eyes lingering on her shoulder.

“Only surprised me,” Penny said. Her green eyes darted to her hand as he took it, swinging it in time with their steps. “You’re extra happy today.”

“My mom says you should come around for dinner,” Colton said. “This weekend or next. It feels like… I don't know, like things are getting to be okay again.”

Heat flared in Penny’s chest. “Okay again?” She crossed her arms and stepped away. “Beth-Ann doesn’t ever get to be okay again.”

“I didn’t mean—You know what I was trying to say,” Colton said defensively. “What happened was awful. You know I believe that.”

She unbristled. “Sorry….”

“Paige wants to come. Whichever weekend works out for you,” he said. He smirked. “It’s kinda grown up, right? The girlfriends coming over for dinner.”

She froze as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. She barely was able to force out a smile as he bid her goodbye, heading off to his class. She touched her cheek, walking in a stupor towards geography.

Hodge was not going to like this.

---

The unicorn was antsy when she visited that evening. He flattened his ears when she petted his neck, but allowed it. He refused the butterscotch chip molasses cookie she made for him. She knew he'd gobble it up the moment she left.

“You know it's a bribe,” Penny muttered. “You’re too good and honest a creature for that. Oh, hold still a sec, you’ve got a major burr.”

The task of painstakingly removing burrs with her fingertips was oddly soothing. There was a degree of focus to it so that she didn't pull too hard or prick herself too badly. It was good for clearing her mind, to stop it from showing her images from that night. Hodge had been getting a lot of burrs since that camping trip. Much more than before.

“My counselor wants a specialist to evaluate me tomorrow,” Penny said. “She isn't saying it, but she thinks I'm a lost cause. …Guess that tracks.” She patted his neck, receiving a disgruntled snort. “I know. I know. I got to stop all this with Colton. It isn't fair to either of you. It's…,” she moved away from the unicorn, “it's that I don't think we can go back to friends after this… Maybe if he wasn't into this boyfriend-girlfriend thing so much….”

Colton was the only friend she had that she still saw consistently, and that was with how much she gave him the cold shoulder. There would be no one left if she dumped Colton. There may be no one left if he dumped her. It was always possible there would be no one if they stayed together, everyone growing bored with their couple act.

Penny finished up a braid in Hodge’s mane. She gave his neck a long, steady stroke. “I had no one before. So long as I have you, it’ll all be okay. …I wonder how Brooke is….”

She shook her first friend from her mind, bid Hodge farewell, and hurried out of the glade. She was halfway back to the Sizemores when a chill ran down her spine. She slowed, froze, as the hairs on her arm rose. She spun around, immediately feeling defenseless and helpless when all she managed to grab as a weapon was her cellphone.

A willowy man was climbing from an old car with a mud splattered front bumper. He wore a lot of black, as if he could not do without it, and his lank, jaw-length hair looked previously dyed or bleached with the ends being off colored and not sandy brown.

Penny lowered her guard as an odd sense of familiarity crept into place over the initial alarm.

“Penrose,” he asked. His voice was distinct, with a croak and rasp that she could not mistake. “Penrose Fox, right?”

“Who wants to know?”

His lip curled. He took a step forward, stopped as she took a step back.

“I heard about your case,” he said. His jacket shimmered slightly as he opened it, showing off the inside pocket. “Can you see that from there? Do you know it?”

She took two micro-steps forward, squinting. Her heart missed a beat. A smile hesitantly formed on her face as she locked in on the marking: 🜩.

“Y-you’re with the Order of Ferblanc….”

“Somewhat reluctantly, but yeah.” He let his jacket fall loose. “Friend of mine told me about what happened. You met her. Bowen Crabtree.” He gave a dismissive wave. “Nevermind. Probably didn’t exchange names with her busy killing that not-deer chomping on your shoulder.” He winced. “Sorry… that was too blunt.”

Penny shrugged, reading over her stitches and staring at the pavement. There had been a rescuer, but she had only barely registered the person was a woman with all that had happened. She had not even delivered Penny back to camp, merely taking her to within sight of the clearing before dashing off–-presumably to handle the rest of the herd and clear a path for Beth-Ann to be found.

“She’s the keeper for that stretch. If you were wondering. She wasn’t some random park ranger.”

“I figured she must’ve been… I think,” Penny said. “Beth-Ann, officially, was mauled by a mountain lion. A random person would’ve completely freaked out and gone with rabid deer or something.”

“It’s easier.” He pointed to her phone still in her hand. “But… you don’t share the whole idea of keeping the Realm quiet, do you?”

She shifted away from him, crossing her arms tight. “You never said your name?” She glared. “You could be a bad guy. Being part of the Order doesn’t automatically make you a good guy.”

He laughed a deep, slightly wheezing, laugh. “Ezekiel Zickefoose.” He gave her a courteous nod. “Eek, if you’d like, but never in front of other Knights.” His smile faltered. “You can sense something off about me, right? Like magic, but not exactly the same. That’s my superpower; naturally more resilient against magic. Pretty useful for a Knight.”

“Yeah…,” Penny said, sidestepping. She looked at her phone, gulping at the time. “Well, Mr. Zickefoose, it’s cool getting some connection to the Realm again, but I do have a curfew. I’d exchange numbers, but…,” she looked at this grown man trying hard not to be a full blown goth, “kind of weird. Sounds like you know about Hodge, so you can just DM me.”

“Right… I’ve held you up. I wanted to meet you before tomorrow.” He gave a small, sly smile. “Your counselor thinks I’m some type of mental health consultant. I just wanted to let you know that I'm not.”

She stared, eyes once more flicking over his appearance.

“I can’t really help with what happened except to be someone who knows what really happened.” He dusted his hands together. “There. Now your hour tomorrow we don’t need introductions. You can just talk. Bowen said you’d need it.”

“Thank you,” Penny said, unsure. “Umm, I do need to go….”

He didn’t try stopping or delaying her further, but Penny could feel him staring after her as she walked on. She bolted once she turned down the next street, stealing a glance back.

“What a weirdo….”

Ezekiel Zickefoose stayed on the edges of her mind as she sat down to dinner and prepared for bed. There was something about his voice she couldn’t shake, something about how he looked that sparked familiarity. She must have been familiar to him as well with how he immediately jumped to his nickname and watched her go. He had no real reason to intercept her, pretext of giving her the heads up or not.

Her phone buzzed, distracting her from staring into the nothingness of her ceiling. Her heart plummeted when she saw it was Colton’s customary goodnight text. This one asked a follow up question, so it felt too rude to leave it answered.

Did you get a chance to ask about dinner?

A simple ‘no’ worked, but was too blunt. She deleted it and tried again, but ‘not yet’ wasn’t right either. It was dancing around the glaring issue, the one she was hoping he’d pick up on enough to call it quits mutually. Her insides squirmed with guilt as she slowly wrote out:

Dinner won’t work. I don’t think dating works. Sorry.

She hastily silenced her phone and put it screen down so as to not see the light from the notifications. She gulped the stale air, half surprised to find tears leaking from her eyes. It was hard to say if it was the crying itself or knowing she hurt her–now former–friend for so much longer than needed that embarrassed her most. It was being a coward not explaining it all in person.

Penny took deep, slow breaths and forced her mind back to Ezekiel Zickefoose. There was not much to latch onto outside of his voice and appearance. She stared hard, hearing Mrs. Sizemore leave for work for the overnight shift. She continued staring with nothing to grasp as her eyes grew heavy and the sounds of thumping came from the stairs. Her eyes were shut, breathing starting to even out as her ears caught murmurs from Aaliyah’s room, drawers or something being shut or banged about.

Aisling’s room was being raided by an unknown man and woman; they were packing a bag for her because her mother had died unexpectedly. That man… he was goth trying hard not to be with a croak in his voice.

She sat up, breathing hard. The familiarity… the voice and fashion… how he seemed to know her–depite them not meeting before–it all added together. That woman with him at that time may’ve even been Bowen Crabtree, but she had no reason to think that and couldn’t remember enough of her rescuer to connect the two.

“...Please… not tonight… please….”

Penny stared through the wall that separated her room from Aaliyah’s. She blinked slowly, ears straining, annoyed at the distraction from this revelation that Ezekiel Zickefoose was connected to Aisling. She flinched at the sound of a slap and a yelp.

She was out of bed and throwing open Aaliyah’s door before she knew she had even moved.

Mr. Sizemore was bearing down on Aaliyah as she cowarded in the farthest corner of her bed. Her buttoned pajama top was torn open. She held her face where she’d been smacked.

“Ger back to your room,” Mr. Sizemore demanded. He straightened when Penny stayed frozen, and lumbered towards her menacingly. “Get back to your room, and you keep that mouth of yours—.”

Penny heard static. She saw red. There was a scream from Mr. Sizemore, high pitched and pained. Her foot hurt, and it took a minute for her to realize she had kicked him and was continuing to kick him. Even once she realized, she kept kicking every inch of him as he thrashed about on the floor trying to protect himself. She grabbed a lamp, threw it over him with a guttural yell. She searched for anything else to use.

“Penny!” Aaliyah grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. “S-stop! You’ll kill him!”

She kicked him once more in the stomach, or groin, grabbed Aaliyah’s wrist, and ran down the stairs. Her mind was racing, tripping over itself, not making sense of anything. She kept her grip on Aaliyah tight, and the older girl didn’t stop her or fight her off. They dashed from the cul-de-sac, down into the woods, and out into Hodge’s glade. Only then did Penny stop to catch her breath, and release Aaliyah.

“Y-you idiot,” Aaliyah snarled. “You messed up everything!”

“What?” Penny glared. “I just—.”

“Took me out of the only place keeping me from a homeless shelter,” Aaliyah snapped. “I got nowhere to go!” She scoffed. “You never got it. Brooke resented that. Pretty Penny, too pure for the creeps. You’d get believed. Couldn't have that.”

Penny took a breath. “How long’s it been going on?”

“All my life,” Aaliyah said, faux-nonchalance breaking with a crack in her voice. “Or, Mr. Sizemore specifically? Since the Lamberts used to pawn us off on them.”

A shrill, braying whinny rang out. In the dark, Hodge looked like he glowed. He charged from the woods, lowering his head to point his black horn forward into a skewering position. He went for Aaliyah, but Penny blocked him, shushing him and speaking calming nonsense.

Aaliyah fell backwards. “Th-that’s from—It’s r-real. That’s a real unicorn!”

“Ssh, Hodge, easy there,” Penny said, ignoring Aaliyah. The colt kept trying to charge around her, to get at the intruder. “Easy there, handsome; she’s a… Easy there, boy.” To Aaliyah, firmly, she added, “You might want to back up a bit. You’re too close to me. He’s protective. And unicorns are aggressive to non-vir…gins.” She whipped back to Hodge, her face hot as she tried blocking the choked sob from her nemesis. “Back up! Back! Hodge, quit it!”

“Penrose!”

Hodge immediately diverted his aggression to Ezekiel Zickefoose upon his arrival into the glade, rearing up to spin around and charge. Penny opened her mouth to yell for Hodge to stop, choking on her words when a road flare sparked to life. 

Ezekiel waved it, roaring and yelling at the colt until he bolted for the woods.

“Hodge!” Penny abandoned Aaliyah, racing towards the treeline, but was caught around the middle. “Get off me!”

“No, Penrose,” Ezekiel scolded. “The cops are searching for you and that girl. You need to get back on the street before they start combing the woods.” He put his hands firmly on her shoulders. “That little spook won’t destroy what you have with that animal. Don’t worry. He’ll be back. Now, hurry up.”

There was another ten to fifteen minutes of snapping Aaliyah out of her shock and getting back to the neighborhood. It was another second after they set foot on the sidewalk near the Sizemore house before the police found them. The house was a swarm of lights, one of them being an ambulance.

Penny was separated from Aaliyah–no real loss–and taken away in a different car. The officers tried talking gently to her on the ride into town, but by this point her adrenaline was plummeting. She was doing all she could not to fall asleep. Tears pricked her eyes when she pictured Hodge’s wounded, frightened expression. Ezekiel was wrong for scaring him off how he did.

She was brought to a windowless room with a table and three uncomfortable, metal chairs. It looked every bit like the stereotypical interrogation rooms from random clips she had seen on the internet. She was given a bottle of water and then left alone. The room was too cold to sleep in despite her grogginess, and the chair too uncomfortable to bother attempting it.

A grizzled officer entered. He handed her a blanket and sat opposite of her with his beady eyes on his clipboard.

“We talked to Aaliyah,” he said. “She said she and Mr. Sizemore were having an affair. She apologizes for leading him on.”

“That’s bull–That isn’t what happened,” Penny said.

“I guessed as much.” He glanced over his clipboard. “Did he ever touch you?”

“Mostly ignored me… Guess I was lucky.” She straightened. “Why would Aaliyah say that?”

“Scared. I hear it a lot, unfortunately. Especially from kids like you two. Let’s see…. Did you mean to injure that man?”

Penny shrugged. “Is it bad? I don’t really remember it.”

“He’s not fathering any kids any time soon.” The officer’s mouth twitched but he quickly wiped his face back to neutral and stared at the clipboard. “There is a predicament with all this. You being a foster, and attacking your foster parent… we can’t exactly release you back to them. I tried contacting your caseworker, but she seemed…. Well, she answered the first call, and hasn’t gotten back to us.”

“Which means…?”

The old officer sighed heavily. “I suppose you go into holding until morning. Possibly the detention center after. Just until we get things sorted out.” He shook his head, his expression sour. “What a waste. Plucky little thing like you, we should give you a steak dinner and put you up in the best hotel for the night.”

There was not much comfort knowing she had done the right thing, not when faced with a long, cold, lonely night in a holding cell. She suspected it was more comfortable than the ones they kept adults, but that was not saying much. The cot was loosened bands between a frame; she had little choice but to be stuck hanging in the middle, and there was no real protection from the draft sweeping beneath all during the night.

She bounced between irritation at Aaliyah for failing to be truthful, and horrible, uncomfortable sadness at how things had turned out for her. Brooke popped into her mind often; Aaliyah’s charge that she had resented Penny went with it. She nearly drifted off, but whether due to all these bad thoughts or just the situation at hand, she would find herself snapping awake with a mingled image of Beth-Ann or Mr. Sizemore, both lying on the ground, sometimes both dead, sometimes both writhing.

The exhaustion kept her from fully processing that a young, female officer was standing in front of her cell with a tupperware similar to those used in airport security.

“I have your phone, a change of clothes, toothbrush, and we got you a bagel sandwich from down the street.” She opened the door and gently placed the tupperware on the floor. “There is someone here wanting to talk to you. Think you’ll be up for that in twenty to thirty? Give you a minute to change and eat?”

Penny didn’t respond, still staring blearily at the woman. She must’ve taken her silence for confirmation, because she left without pressing the issue. Penny could hear murmurs of her speaking to someone before the heavy door of the holding area cut off the sound.

She changed and was halfway through her sandwich before picking up her phone. Her heart dropped at the seventeen missed calls and forty-six unread texts from Colton. She cleared the calls and messages, scrolling to the most recent text at the bottom.

I deserve some kind of response. Ghosting me is immature.

Her jaw clenched, her hackles raising.

Sorry. I got arrested last night and didn’t have my phone until now.

The responses came in short and quick, expressing disbelief but not at her words, at the situation. News of her arrest had spread already. Then came the asking if she was okay, and the pleading for some kind of explanation. He went as far to ask if her decision had anything to do with witnessing Beth-Ann’s death, and expressed he could wait it out.

I thought about breaking up since before then. Hodge doesn’t like this dating thing. I’m never dating anyone.

The dots kept going and going, indicating Coton was doing a lot of typing. But, the response was short when it finally came through.

You’re breaking up because of your photoshop unicorn?

He’s real.

The dots moved again and again, before stopping with no reply.

She turned her phone off, sighing heavily.

“Ready for your visitor?”

“Sure,” she said, tucking away her phone.

It was not her caseworker that entered the holding area despite that making the most sense. It wasn’t Ezekiel Zickefoose or Aaliyah, or anyone she knew. It was an older than old stout woman holding herself up with a cane. She hobbled forward resolutely, and set a stern gaze upon Penny.

“I am Mrs. Adams. I was sent to negotiate your release to my employer, a Mr. Silas Javernick.”

“Should… should I know who that is,” Penny asked unsurely. “Is he famous? I’m not very good with remembering celeb—.”

“Straighten up, please, Penrose.” Penny straightened. “You do not know him, nor do I expect you to, but he knows of you. He was acquainted with your mother.”

“M-my moth–?”

“Yes. Your mother. I was quite clear.” Mrs. Adams gave her a look over. “I’ll have you sorted once you’re out of this miserable place. Will not take but a few hours.”

The arrival of Mrs. Adams, and her matter-of-fact stating that she would be released to someone that knew her mother was a level of surreal Penny was too tired to wrap her brain around. She sat on her uncomfortable bed, and finished her sandwich.

--------------------

Bowen Crabtree is a name I saw at baby gym and it was just too good not to use for fiction. I have no idea if the real one is a boy or girl. I was going to try to use it in the Beatrix and Wrenna books, but my first thought was of the loup garou, and I wanted something more traditionally Cajun. Crabtree has some Appalacian ties, so it worked better here. Which, Zickefoose is supposed to be a very distinctly Appaliacian surname that I've been avoiding until I got a "good guy". Eek and Bowen both were in chpt 2 raiding Aisling's drawers; Penny's insticts about the woman that was with Eek being Bowen is correct (because I want to use the name, lol).

The idea of Penny being "too pure" was always going to be a rift between her and others in the system. The reality is that people probably sense something kind of off about her so avoid her, particularly foul adults who would quickly gather she wasn't easy to mislead. It wasn't about purity or prettiness, that was just something other girls would grab at with how they'd been treated.

Penny being arrested for assult and sprung by Mrs. Adams was one of the big scenes fom her childhood, like the one with Hodge being upset she had a three second kiss, that was core to her.

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October 23, 2026
The Not-Rant Session
that might need an article mode

It'll likely take me a few sessions to get all this down, but mostly because of the two kids balacing and me being unable to do a lotof movement. So, like with The Rant Session I'll put in the dates. This is being started on October 16th around noon. Here we go!

It's funny how different two years and eleven miles (by highway, I looked it up) changes things. And how some things stayed the same; namely that once more it was a girl and a c-section. I hadn't had a visit with my doctor for weeks, and that is one of my two complaints with her (the other being sometimes the bruskness, which I like, is too dismissive). My stress tests were all going well; these were testing to see if Vee was strong enough and healthy enough to endure labor, and if my body could handle it too. Because, unlike with Minn, she was in the correct, best position to go through labor. I had expressed immediately that I wanted to avoid another c-section, so every visit that was never brought up as any kind of option for whatever reason crazy women have when they get them electively.

During one of the visits when my doctor was gone, which she was gone most of the last two months so my exact visit isn't there at the top of my head, the ultrasound tech looked slightly pale and asked if my baby always measured big. I said she did, and it wasn't elaborated. The NP told me in the review of that ultrasound that Vee was estimated to be 7.1 pounds. I just went 'whoa... my older kid was born at 7.7, that's crazy'. They said the doctor will want to talk more about that later, especially after I casually mentioned my scar from Minn hurting almost all the time. That was another medical-person-went-pale and asked me to describe the pain. Mostly dull, some sharp if I stood too fast (or sometime stood period, it wasn't that consistient) or rolled over at night.

I didn't see the doctor until my last pre-scheduled visit on the 7th, exactly a week from due date. She started by asking what my thoughts were when I heard how big Vee was. Same answer as above; my first was born roughly that size. And she goes 'right, so, I need to check you, and I don't want to say it, but this could be a c-section'. She checks, and jut goes 'nope, nothing, you cannot go beyond your due date, she's too big'. Apparently, I was nowhere near ready body wise to have her within the week.

Now, I was not told why the doctor was so insistant because I didn't argue back. With my own research, and the increasingly smaller fragments of biology knowledge I still remember, I already pieced together the big fear was hemmorage. So, while I was not at all thrilled to do a c-section again, it was better than the ever increasing risk of bleeding out before I even got to labor, or bleeding out during labor. ...I still asked for the last possible day to delay it as long as I could, and was scheduled for the 13th.

(October 17th ~8:45AM): I mentioned in the chat that Minn's godmother was coming to help out since my mom was in London. The original plan was to have my sister come with me because she's my emergency contact (our mom is notorious for never answering the phone, checking texts, or even calling back) and that'd give Minn bonding time with her godmother since they don't see each other often. But, with my surgery set for 7:30, I had to arrive at 5--before labor the hospital opened, so we had to go through the ER--it was very complicated figuring out school buses and stuff of that nature. And the topper, my sister ended up with a cold coming on. Minn came to the hospital with us. My sister came by once she set up breakfast for her kids (my BIL had some sort of work thing so couldn't do the kids that morning) and picked her up. Then it was all prep for the 7:30 surgery. ...Which went significantly over.

I put a preview of that in the chat. The bruises! Standard protocol is nothing to drink after midnight, and my mouthful of water at 4AM was not enough to hydrate me to avoid the 'you're so dehydrated, the IV doesn't want to go in'. This place though, instead of seeming confused by my dehydration like the other hospital, just was all 'every c-section, all of them, sorry about the pain'. A little more comforting that they knew the side effects of no water after midnight.

The bigger of the two bruises is on my right arm. That was from labs. They took two or three vials (probably because when they're asking if you have such and such they want to double check you didn't lie and cause some kind of reaction or contanimation). I was pretty hopeful when the needle went in. It hurt, but I was thinking 'yes that single mouthful of water helped'. And apparently, that would have been where the IV would have gone if I was hydrated. The lady kept squeezing blood out, like juicing me, to fill the vials. It got worse and worse pain wise and volumn wise until she just went 'yeah, no IV here, but hopefully that's enough blood for labs'. Thankfully (and I know this from genetic lab a million years ago) you don't need a heck of a lot, so that worked out. On the back of my right hand is a barely noticable greenish bruise from a failed IV attempt. I told her once that one fail to please avoid going into my wrist joint, so she went to get someone else to help. The failed attempts were starting to set us back.

(October 19th ~11:00AM) The second lady found "a juicy vein" in my left arm, which it the second large bruise from the pictures. It blew out almost immediately, and she just kept saying sorry over and over. Not just because it hurt, but because now we were further behind schedule. Luckily, the last attempt on my left hand worked or I would've been looking at a wrist joint. That thing did not go in lightly, and kept trying to pop out. I was supposed to get two IVs of fluids to rehydrate me before surgery, and now that we were well beyond 7:30, those needed pressure sleeves to force the fluid into my hand/body faster. Drinking from your hand is already a weird experience (that I don't really hate, especially being that dehydrated) but gulping is much weirder. And I'm naked at this point, so got cold very quick with the cold fluids going in that fast.

I was dragged off to the OR to get the spinal, and the OR is even colder, so I just started shaking. And me being how I am, I'm just going 'I hope they know this is from being cold'. Which my spinal guy did, because at one point he just went and got a hot blanket from under the heater and put it on my arms. That was enough to stop the shaking. That guy was an odd man that may've been a tad on the spectrum in the way that all the best weirdos are. We probably would've be friends as teens or something.

The spinal this time was not as horrifying as with Minn. It hurt much worse though. Because Vee was so heavy, my spine was very compressed. It was a slower process, with several stops due to the pressure getting to be too much, and a lot of small popping noises of going through my spinal discs. It was just after 8AM at this point. My doctor just goes 'throw her down, they're going to throw you down'. She was already through a few layers before they went to fetch Minn's godmother. She was brought in just in time for Vee to be pulled out at 8:08. And unlike Minn, she made a cry. Not the type in the movies, just the one, and a second when they went to go cut the cord (Minn's godmother got to do it, I think my mom declined with Minn because it freaked her out, lol). They had me see her a second, and then my doctor was like 'okay that's enough, let's stitch her up'. Which I actually appreciated because with Minn there was the awkwardness of my arm starting to numb from the spinal, and they wouldn't take her away until I told them too, but I wasn't sure if I was supposed to tell them too, and the whole time your guts are on tables waiting to go back in. I was shut up in maybe 15 minutes, also much less than the last time.

I forgot to mention that I was given a form before surgery to consent or deny that Hep shot. Easy enough, just sign deny and no one brought it up again or lied about what it was for or tried talking me into it. The form came with a packet on what it was, and the consent to had a big block of text that probably was about side effects. I didn't read it since I was declining. Don't need my newborn vaccinated against a sexual transmitted disease.

I tasked Minn's godmother to follow Vee around, but the ward was really open so there wasn't as much need to hover. Lots of glass walls for the nursery. She went there only for visits with her assigned doctor, for all her glucose tests and other blood lettings, and then for a bath. I went with her for the bath. I never saw how they did them on newborns because I was so done with the other hospital that I wouldn't let them near Minn more than I could help it at that point.

Vee was born with low glucose which was due to her being large. She had a drop after she was detached, so needed 4 or 5 tests to make sure she was stable. She showed improvement on test 2, improved to a stable level on 3, and 4 and 5 were the same as 3. One reason my mom suspects that the doctor didn't do everything in the room like with Minn is because this hospital is Catholic and the other was secular. Minn and Vee both had male doctors assigned to them. Vee's was 1000% better. (Bonus, he was from PA and grew up around a bunch of Poles, so not only knew how to say my last name with a slight accent, but knew both clans that went into making my last name and could pronounce them.) Vee's doctor is the person who finally gave me exactly what I've been asking since Minn was born: a number on how much a newborn could eat.

If you remember, I knew something was wrong with feeding Minn, and I was just constantly shown a button all the nurses wore and told 'her stomach is the size of a grape, just a few drops is fine'. And it turned out to be very not fine. Vee's doctor told me '30ml, maybe 35ml, but if she spits up that's too much'. And he told me what the lactation consultants at this place told me 'boob first, then do formual so you can gage how much you're making, you'll watch the formal start to not be touched much at all one you're producing more'. Formula was never on the table at the other place because I checked exclusively brestfeeding. I checked that this time too, but told them my concerns (last time my concerns were the same too since my sister and mom both had issues), so they kept formal in the mix if I started going 'nope, something isn't right'.

Right now, Vee is mostly formula and nearing 60ml already. I'm not doing boob first like suggested because I just cannot figure out how to get her latched they way the consultants showed me, and we both get frusterated. So, I pump and put it in a bottle mostly. I let her latch on when she wanting just comfort and not so much food. She's much less likely to hurt me being too hungry, and it sort of counts as pumping. The hope is to make enough to get her exclusively on boob via bottle, but I've already made peace with it being okay if it isn't that exclusive. ...20% formula is my limit, lol. (October 23 edit ~11:45) She's hitting 90ml sometimes and about half or more are mixed formula and milk. I have two 60ml in the fridge right now waiting for a 30ml shot of formula. So, yeah, better progress this time around.

But, I'm skipping ahead to some warm and fuzzies. Let's go back and talk about the gore!

(October 20th ~10:30 - we made it a week!) After I was put back together, I asked how long I wouldn't be able to move my legs. They told me 'you'll get feeling back in an hour, by three you should be okay to stand' or something to that effect. Which was shocking because it was 8 hours last time. They did have my legs wrapped in these weird compression things that pulsated. That kept my muscles going for me (and they didn't come in constantly to move my legs around for me like last time).

Having an entirely female staff was a weird highlight. I already did all this being cut open and totally helpless thing, naked for a few days on end, smelling awful from everything going on. And I did it with a handful of men being right there on hand up in my situation. So, it was kind of surprising to me when I realized I saw a total of 3 men the whole time, and none in my room except for the two visits from Vee's doctor (and he announced hmself and paused to make sure it was okay to enter). And those other two were more like one and a quarter. My spinal guy's shift ended right as they were stitching me up, and his relief was also a guy. I think I saw him less than five minutes. So, yeah, there was an extra layer of chill that I think came from the staff being all women that I didn't connect until after I was getting ready to leave. (And I struggle with female friendships so that's saying something.)

My first night was the same with the zero sleep. You're woken up too often by your staff and the baby's staff coming to check things out. That first day and night I was constantly offered oxy, which I denied each time. I was just going 'wow they're really pushing it' because the other place didn't give me any, they just prescribed it for when I left. I was going 'no I'm good with the two extra strength tylonal and one motrin, just like before'. But, by that first night I started to realize this was not like before at all.

(October 21 ~10:30) My legs had full function within the 3 hour window I was given, but I couldn't seem to move. A t this point, I didn't need to stand up except that I was supposed to be since I was still hooked up to everything (no bathroom trips) and Minn's godmother was on top of taking care of Vee. Moreso when part of the reason I couldn't move was conneced to my attempts to feed her.

The pain was excrutiating. Not the boobs, my guts. Biology hat on a sec: when you start brestfeeding your uterus contracts. After birth or a c-section, when everything is still stretched and a little angry, this feels like period cramps. The degree varies. These cramps started out like the worst period I've ever had in my life, and worse than the saline ultrasounds (the first check when you're doing IUI or In Vitro to make sure everything looks good) which had already passed the worst period cramps ever. It was debilitation, nausiatingly painful where I'd be completely tensed up, eyes shut tight and teeth clenched. So... not good for brestfeeding at all, lol.

By that night, everything was removed so I would need to stand and walk to the bathroom. And while I did, it was a shuffle and more, and more pain. And it was worse after I fed her, because then I felt sick from the pain like I needed to go to the bathroom just in case I threw up. Minn's godmother offered to call a nurse for a barf bag at one point so I wasn't trying to scramble, walk, stand, whatever, because there was no way I could.

My night nurse got me to take one step forward and one to the side as a first movement before all this, and I found out that I could side step to the right (or drag my foot half and inch) but could not at all go left. (October 22 ~9AM) At one point, while trying to feed Vee, I just said something about how this was so much worse than with Minn pain wise. Because, with her, it took 8 hours for feeling to come back, but I was left alone at night and was up doing all sorts of stuff. And I was constantly trying to feed her. The pain there was because there was zero milk and almost no colostrum, so she was essentuially drinking my blood. Minn's godmother ended up saying something about the pain difference to the night nurse, and she explained that because they were messing around with scar tissue, and because Vee was large, everything was just going to hurt much worse this time. I was stretched too much on a scar, so it would take harder and heavier contractions to try to put it all back together again. And it suddenly made sense why they kept looking at me like I was nuts for refusing the oxy.

I had at least four different people explain the oxy, all from a different area; lactation, nurse, doctor, the nurse specific for my vitals. I think even the nursery nurse at one point. Did a internet search. Asked Claude AI. Eventually, sometime during the following day, I took one. It was just enough that I could get up and hobble to the bathroom.

The oxy they give you every 4 hours, unless you request it. They only give it to you at request (or at least me because I freaked out so much about it). I think I took 3 or 4 while I was there, and even though everyone talked about 5mg not being enough to pass through to milk, I still had Vee eat formula only for a feed or two after I took it. Following day, the 15th, I was able to get around with none.

I now have two bottles, one from Minn and one from Vee, still in the Walgreens bags tucked up at the top of my cabinet for emergencies. (Like when you smash your finger in a door so the tip is crushed and you almost lose the whole thing... because that happened right after I explained to my dad why I didn't just toss them. He refused to take one, but I have them on hand for things like that.)

(October 23 ~noon) My memory is getting fuzzy with it now being over a week and nothing egregious happening like the last time. The tired is coming for me, lol. There's random things like Minn first meeting Vee I was sure to have my arms free so she could see me and just me, and then got introduced. ...The following day she didn't care to see me at all and went right for her sister. She's doing very well, but is way too overstimulated and gets little break downs wanted to both be the attention and to be affectionate to her sister at the same time. But, all that's normal. I keep telling her we're going to have a lot more fun in a few weeks when I can pick her up, and drive, and just be more normal.

Part of me thinks that's really the harder part, not so much as now she has a sister, but I can't do anything. She's having way too much TV time (my dad's version of hanging out and watching her) and that's making her act up too since it's just more stimulation on top of a stimulating experience. But, she does get to go out with her Memere alone to stores or hang out with her cousins at sushi. She got to go to baby gym Wednesday, and my mom said she'll bring her this coming Wednesday too for her last one. Then, we're on pause until January. Unless the sick is really bad. Then I might extend to Feb.

But, yep, I think that's about it. If I remember more random stuff worth mentioning, I'll just drop it in the chat.

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October 12, 2026
DO.Penny.14

Penny avoided Colton the next two weeks, which worked out since his family spent one of those weeks in Dollywood. It was enough of a cleanse–for a lack of a proper term–for Hodge to settle back down.

She stocked up on pictures, and groomed him slowly to soak in the full interaction. He was softer under her touch than before, as if he too had missed their time together.

“Hey, want some good news,” Penny murmured to the colt. “My caseworker said the Sizemores want to foster me. They're getting the last of it worked out, and I should be starting high school right around the corner from you.” She gave his neck a hearty pat. “Couple more weeks at most, and I'll be back to being able to sneak out here almost every evening. I'll just have to dodge Colton….”

Guilt squished around her insides. Colton texted her everyday with pictures of his trip, or just to say he missed her. She recognized it was nice, but it made her want to turn her phone off for weeks. It felt wrong to be cute back, or to simply say she missed hanging out.

She picked burs from Hodge's tail tuff. “Think I’ll walk to the Sizemores. I can set the stop watch on my phone to get a better idea how long it is between there and here. They’re pretty chill, so I don't want to give them any reason to get more strict with me.”

They were bound to have grown more strict having Aaliyah in the house the last two years. If she was going to break curfew, she would need to be precise.

She wiped Hodge down with fly repellent before tucking her grooming supplies away in their hollow. She bounded through the tall, dry grass like a deer, blowing Hodge a kiss as she exited the glade.

The cul de sac development was closer to the glade than Penny remembered. She chalked it up to how much she had grown, both in overall maturity and in speed. She was definitely a faster jogger than a couple of years ago. It was encouraging knowing she would soon be close enough to Hodge that sneaking out was completely doable. It would come down to mostly balancing out Mrs. Sizemore's random night shifts and making sure Colton was preoccupied elsewhere, and that was far less daunting than being moved an hour away.

She noticed both the Sizemores’ cars absent from the driveway. It saved her needing to suck up to them, to put on a show of her gratitude. She was about to turn around, to go to the meeting spot to be picked up by Paige, when Aaliyah burst from the house. Penny only just ducked behind the brick mailbox in time to avoid being seen. She was in too good a mood to let her foster sister ruin it.

Aaliyah rushed to the Lambert house, pounded on the door, and shifted uncomfortably while she waited. Emily opened the door seconds later.

“Can I stay over tonight,” Aaliyah begged.

“Sorry,” Emily said. “I’m going to a friend’s. We’re planning our road trip.”

“Right. Of course. Gotta get ready for college….”

“Mrs. Sizemore is working tonight? Oh… Aaliyah….” Emily hugged her. “You got to say something.”

“I can’t! I got nowhere else,” Aaliyah said. She backed up. “Send pics from your trip.”

“Maybe it’ll be better once Penny…?” Emily looked uneasy and pale even from Penny’s vantage. “I’m still going to help you get out of there. I promise!”

They moved to hug again, just as Penny’s phone rang. She was quick to hit the silence, but the two older girls were now looking around where they stood, half unsure they had really heard anything. Penny stayed still, pressed against the mailbox, until Emily invited Aaliyah in.

Penny ran from the cul de sac, opening her phone and calling Paige back.

‘Where are you? I’m waiting at Garrett’s.’

“Around the corner,” Penny said, her breathing rough. “I went to the Sizmores.”

‘There in a sec.’

She settled on the corner of the street to wait. Her heart was thumping, but it wasn’t so much from the short jog. Aaliyah had been distressed, and whatever was happening was something Emily not only knew about, but also agreed was bad. It was hard to forget that look on Emily’s face when she mentioned her name.

Mr. McBride and Brooke flashed through her mind. She shook it off as Paige pulled up, forced a smile, and climbed in.

“You okay,” Paige asked. “You look kinda freaked.”

“Yeah…,” Penny said. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You don’t have to go on the camping trip if you’re feeling sick,” Paige said. “Or hell, just think of all the mosquitoes and skip it anyway.”

It completely slipped her mind that the girls’ home was doing their annual camping trip that night. She hadn’t arrived at the home in time for it last year, and with moving to the Sizemores’ soon, this would be her only chance to hang out in the mountains all night. She was looking forward to being away from the random developments and small cities, though she did wish Paige would reconsider and come along. She never grew close with the other girls.

Her mind wandered to Aaliyah during her short packing time. It was an overnight trip and didn’t require much planning. Her excitement for it was all that kept her from turning over every detail of the micro-conversation between Aaliyah and Emily, and attempting to figure out why it caused her such unease.

The old school bus, repainted white with curly, purple and green lettering, carried eleven of them out of their squashed city into the mountains. Penny found herself next to Beth-Ann for the drive. She was a year older, claimed to be descended from Native American royalty—minus Beth-Ann being a twiggy blonde, Penny was almost sure tribes didn’t work that way, but didn’t care enough to look it up or argue—and claimed to know everything about outdoor survival, or just everything in general. Despite all the irritations, she enjoyed Beth-Ann in moderation.

“You finally get to camp,” Beth-Ann said. “Just stick close. I know all the right spots.”

“Isn't it a campsite,” Penny asked.

“You’ve never been camping, right," Beth-Ann asked, ignoring Penny’s question. “No, right? Because you were in the suburbs all your life.”

“Were you not,” Penny asked. “I thought you'd been at the home for half your life?”

“At least you get one camping trip before going to your new placement,” Beth-Ann said, once more ignoring Penny. “This'll be so fun! And,” she lowered her head, looking around as if afraid of being overheard, “it's my last camping trip with everyone too. But, shh, I'm not supposed to know yet.”

“Adoption,” Penny whispered.

“Finally,” Beth-Ann said. “It’s this couple that fostered me a couple of years ago. They had job stuff happen, so I had to come back, but all that’s straight now.” She swelled. “They’ve kept in contact this whole time. Sometimes even went for outings and stuff.” She squeezed Penny’s hand. “It feels incredible to be wanted. You really should open yourself up to it.”

Penny slipped her hand away. “I won’t give up on my family.”

Beth-Ann rolled her eyes, sighed in a condescending, sympathetic way, and turned out to talk to one of the girls across the aisle. That left Penny to stew while staring out the window, watching the trees thicken.

The campsite was a stone’s throw from the park bathrooms. It was spacious with the orangey lamp from the restrooms filtering through the branches and washing out half the clearing. Five, large, well-kept but clearly used tents were pitched, and sleeping arrangements were assigned. Penny found herself assigned to a tent with Beth-Ann, being one of two tents with only two occupants.

“So lucky,” Beth-Ann squealed, throwing down her large, stuffed hiking bag. “I was sure we’d get one of the chaperons.”

Penny set down her backpack on the free sleeping bag. She propped her face on her fist; Beth-Ann rummaging around eagerly in her bag, extracting a headlamp, a vest full of pockets, and other survivalist gear that fell into a more nonsensical lens, especially for a short, contained trip.

“I went ‘squatching last year,” Beth-Ann said. “I was in so much trouble, but just for a minute. Told them I got lost looking for the bathroom.”

“Guess that explains them being right there,” Penny said. She paused searching through her bag, looking up. “Wait… ‘squatching? Like sasquatch? Like… bigfoot?” A smile spread across her face. “You believe in bigfoot?”

Beth-Ann’s hackles rose defensively. She tossed her hair, a sneer on her lips and threw out an air of superiority and nonchalance.

“This is Appalachia, Penny,” she said hauntingly; “there’s things out there that’d make your hair curl.”

“I believe in bigfoot too,” Penny said eagerly, ignoring Beth-Ann’s defensiveness. She laughed as the older girl deflated. “I always have. I was picked on for it when I was little.”

They went back and forth on lore and being teased. Penny probed to figure out how far Beth-Ann’s belief extended; on the fence for unicorns and giants, zero belief for dragons, fully on board for will o’ the wisps (she adamantly called them haunts). She knew nothing—as far as Penny could tell by way of very vague questions—of the Realm, keepers, the Holy Cor, the Order of Ferblanc, nor of the Auctorita, although Penny was also unfamiliar with the last minus the conversation with the mage and the knowledge that they harvested Hodge’s mother.

“This is great,” Beth-Ann exclaimed. “Our last camping trip and we can go ‘squatching together. I don’t have any gear for you, but just stick close and you'll be fine.”

It sounded more fun than ATVing, but Penny was hesitant to encourage it. She had come face-to-face with a bigfoot before, and was more confident in her ability to get away having done it once, but the circumstances had been different. The biggest being it was during the day with her first encounter, and she had been focused on keeping it away from Levi. Running into a bigfoot at night, with someone who over confidently thought they knew all there was about them, was more dangerous. 

She gave her a noncommittal grunt, and hastily left for the dinner bell.

The group of them told stories, attempted camp songs, and ate s'mores well into the night afterwards. They ended the group time by going around and recapping what good happened over the school year, what was disappointing, and their hopes for the coming academic year. Several of the girls cited failed placements as disappointments with the hopes for one soon. Penny stuck to keeping it related to academia and went with constantly changing schools but being glad to be back among friends she had known previously.

Beth-Ann made no mentions of traipsing off into the wood during any of this, whether offhanded or in whispers. Penny was jostled awake shortly after sinking into a restful sleep, her heart jumping in her chest at the red light directly in her eyes.

“Ready,” Beth-Ann whispered eagerly.

Penny forgot her annoyance at being woken, and her trepidation, and quickly threw a zip-up on over her pajamas.

The woods were darker than any Penny had wandered before, but her experience was limited to the forests that surrounded Hodge’s glade. That was not nearly as old, and was sandwiched between developments that had once been farmland.

The excitement waned soon as the damp chilliness of the woods soaked into Penny’s shoes. She didn't want to be the one to suggest heading back to camp; she couldn’t stomach the idea that Beth-Ann would think she was being a wuss—she definitely would boast about it at the home.

“Anything yet,” Penny asked. “Hair? Broken twigs?”

“No,” Beth-Ann sighed, clearly disappointed. “Just a lot of deer tracks. We can do a call further in. That'll do something.”

Penny crossed her arms tight to cut the cold seeping into her clothes. She took Beth-Ann's disappointment and resorting to yelling as a sign it would soon be over. She merely had to distract herself until then, which was easier thought than practiced with only Beth-Ann having a light.

She slowed her pace to create more distance before pulling her phone out of her pajama pocket. She tapped it and turned it screen down, knowing the milky glow would be less distracting than the flashlight, and less likely to draw Beth-Ann’s notice. Penny hated to think they would need to wander even longer in the damp woods over an accusation that her phone scared off a bigfoot.

Beth-Ann understated when she said there were a lot of deer tracks. There was more than just the thin trail with a set or two in a single file. The tracks wove in and out of each other, creating a webbing pattern. There must’ve been five at the least; an entire herd that was prowling.

The gap between she and Beth-Ann widened as she stopped. Her stomach twisted. The hairs on her neck and arm rose.

Deer did not prowl.

Her sweat ran cold when she realized Beth-Ann and her red light were no longer in sight. She switched from her phone screen to the flashlight app, turning slowly on the spot. Every crack, swish, or rustle had her jump from her skin. Her heart was going fast enough to have her breathing ragged.

“B-Beth-Ann,” Penny hissed. She attempted swallowing but her mouth was dry. “Beth-Ann!”

The library books she poured over when she first arrived at the Lamberts’ years ago came back in fragments. She tried sticking to local lore, but after her run in with the bigfoot and alienation from her friends, she lost a lot of motivation. There were dangerous creatures in the mountains, that was certain.

“Beth-Ann,” Penny yelled. “Beth-Ann! Where are you?”

She yelled out louder and louder, breaking branches and kicking over small, dead trees; anything to make as much noise as possible. She raced through what creatures she remembered: bigfoot, will o’ the wisps, not-deer…. She froze and shrieked Beth-Ann’s name as loud as she could, followed by calling out for help.

A branch snapped behind her.

Eyes glowed just beyond her flashlight. Slowly, steadily, a deer stalked into the beam, but there was a profound sense of wrongness about it. The eyes were forward in its skull, like those of a cougar, and its legs bent like a wolf's creeping into ambush position.

It took a moment for her scream to escape her throat; it had to build before exploding out. She ended it with a snarl, waving her arms and phone around. Her blood chilled when the not-deer barely hesitated in its hunt.

A second crack sounded behind her. She whirled around, spotting a second not-deer in the corner of her eye. She bolted between the two; leapt over a log, broke through scratchy branches, caught a glimpse of a red light, and tripped head over heels in her attempt to stop too quickly for her body to properly react.

She eased up, straightened, and swung her phone around towards the red light as she climbed up.

Several pairs of eyes caught the light, low and crouched. Blood was smeared over their snouts. It only barely registered what she saw them crouched over was Beth-Ann and not a random carcass as her phone tumbled from her hands, landing with the light down.

Penny’s knees gave. She could smell the blood in the dark, hear the fabric ripping and the squelch of the not-deer feasting. Beth-Ann’s red flashlight lit enough to catch movement, enough to catch eyes.

She screamed, teeth sinking into her shoulder from behind.

-----------------------------

I wanted so bad to use not-deer with Nellie and could not find a spot for them. They are one of the creepiest cryptids, and that's in part because there are so many cedible stories. The running theory is that either these people are running into rabid deer, mutated deer, or deer suffering some other type of nuerological issue similar to rabies. I'm kind of like 'could be a carnivorous sub-species or something that only look like deer as a type of camoflague'.

I dislike the name Beth-Ann and all variations of it a lot. I don't know why, but I do. So, when I knew Penny would have a friend(ish) person die, I immediately was like 'what name do I hate'. I almost had it be Paige, but it didn't fit what personality I was building for Paige to even want to be in nature.

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