Firebrand Risk
P.Track.30
April 17, 2026

June gave way to July. Silas threw a huge Fourth of July bonfire for them where Arden and Fin followed Arch around chanting, “USA,” over and over, until he grew so annoyed he sent a golem after them. Arden was in a much better mood the moment Brittney left and was being extra annoying to the older boys to make up for the days that she’d been there.

Nellie had small moments of loneliness with Ava and Amias both leaving. They never lasted long, not with her greenhouse duties with Lilac, sneaking into the woods with Fin and Brody (Calix having gone to Greece for two weeks to visit family), and discussing–or avoiding–Morgan’s dragon research. She was sure to write Ava a letter and make it vague enough that she could share it with Emma, Olivia, and Sophia. She also scratched out her note to text Penny asking if it was possible for someone like her to make friends.

Nellie propped her face on her hand as Mrs. Adams hobbled in front of them, a book held in her hand that she was reading snippets from. It had something to do with the religious order that the Order of Ferblanc acted as an arm of, and how it was once a part of the Roman Catholic church. Nellie was having a hard time focusing on the dry history when Mrs. Adams constantly would pause to reiterate that the two are separate but also the same.

“The Holy See has the Swiss Guard,” Mrs. Adams went on, “while the Holy Cor has the Order of Ferblanc. Yes, Mr. Jones?”

“Brody, why,” Arden hissed. “I want to get out of here.”

“The Holy See isn’t really part of Vatican City, right,” Broday asked. “It’s its own thing?”

“Correct, Mr. Jones,” Mrs. Adams said. “And to answer your next question before you ask it, the Holy Cor is also a separate entity although it is located alongside Vatican City just as the Holy See. The difference here being that the Holy See is an internationally recognized government while the Holy Cor stays to the Realm.”

“And it’s feminine,” Lilac said airily, lifting her hand after the fact.

“Yes, Miss Maebry; the Holy Cor takes on the feminine to balance out the masculine of the Holy See. A tribute of sorts to all the women and their role centuries back when the religious first came to be. There is crossover, of course, most particularly with the religious orders. The two will share monks and nuns with no qualms. It boils down to a single, specific line during vows to even know which brother or sister belongs where. And, really, who has time to sort any of that out.” She snapped her book shut. “We’ll continue this tomorrow. There will also be an extra lesson pertaining to the Auctorita’s founding. Now, I’m sure you want to get to your letters before I call you back for geography.”

Nellie had a letter from Nathalie that was not very long. It spoke of her teaching, how all her petunias died, and how she still had not replaced the laptop she dropped. Ash was doing well–Nathalie lamenting his leaving bits of dead things around. She also had a reply from Ava. This was also not very long, but it was clear from the lack of flow that the other girls had added their thoughts during the writing. They even all signed it, saying they missed her–Nellie doubted Olivia really did–and hoped she’d return before summer finished so that they could all go shopping.

Hey,” Fin said, glancing over. He held up his sheets of paper. “Welcome to the two letters club. It’s exclusive.”

“Ava says she misses you guys,” Nellie said, giving Ava’s letter a shake.

“Ava nice,” Itzel said. “Miss her.”

Morgan stared at his half page with boredom. He folded it and leaned back in his chair. “My mother sends her love.”

They were interrupted by Mrs. Adams appearing with an old shoebox. Arch jumped up to take it from her as she hobbled into the den.

“Thank you, Mr. Willoughby. Pass those out, would you? Mr. Javernick has requested geography be held an hour later, and to have your phone allotment moved to now. Dinner tonight will be formal practice, so will last longer.” She hobbled from the den. “I’ll have the box on my desk. You may drop them off on your way into geography.”

Arch looked from his battered, old flipphone to the smartphones around him wistfully before excusing himself to make a call. Brody also excused himself to call family while Lilac–having just seen her parents–settled into a chair and started coloring on a coloring app. Itzel had no phone so started on writing her reply.

“Wanna sword fight,” Arden asked Nellie and Morgan. “We can do it in pairs. Me and Morgan against Fin and Nellie.”

“Should I not be with Cabrera?” Morgan eyed Fin. “Oldest and youngest against the two in the middle?”

“Yeah, normally, but Nellie’s lousy so putting her with Fin will either better our chances or even out the teams,” Arden said.

“Gee thanks,” Nellie said dryly.

Morgan looked pleased someone ranked him over Nellie, and agreed to Arden’s terms.

Nellie did not do as badly as she feared; perhaps in some attempt to show up Arden and Morgan or because Fin was just a good partner. She and Morgan eventually held back to let Arden and Fin go at it. They plopped down beneath a nearby tree to allow the shade to cool them.

“Silas told me dinner is formal practice due to guests,” Morgan said in low tones. “More Auctorita founding members.”

“Your mom?”

“No; much better,” Morgan said with a smirk. “It’s our way into China.”

“What are you talking about,” Nellie asked carefully.

“I did not hit you hard enough for this,” Morgan said. He rolled his hazel eyes. “Your father. China. Does that ring the bell?”

Her stomach plummeted. Morgan had been so quiet about Rhys and China that Nellie thought he accepted the obvious wall before them. It didn't occur to her that his stubbornness had him looking for another solution. 

She laughed shakily. “You're crazy! You think I can just call Nathalie and get my passport? Even if you did find a way into China, no way is she letting me go.”

“No passport and no asking permission required,” Morgan said smugly. He shot a look at Arden and Fin to ensure they were still consumed hitting each other. “Beast and Brigitte are smugglers.”

“You know a smuggler named Beast?”

“Well… no, but he is a founding member of the Auctorita, so my parents do,” Morgan said hastily.

“Still… a smuggler….”

“Sometimes it's a noble pursuit,” Morgan said. He scratched his nose and looked away. “Whatever the case, it's our way in.”

Nellie was quickly coming to the point when she'd have to flat-out refuse to go with Morgan. He put so much work into the dragon research and on finding a way to get to Rhys, that she couldn't help but feel guilt squirming in her guts.

“Ow!”

Fin was clamping a hand to his head, eyes narrowed at Arden who was waving his wooden sword over his head in triumph over his instant kill hit.

---

Nellie stood between Itzel and Lilac at the back of the line; Mrs. Adams had insisted on inspecting each of them before allowing them into the dining room, and further insisted the girls be last.

“Miss Maebry, are those grass stains,” Mrs. Adams asked.

“From the garden,” Lilac clarified.

Mrs. Adams glared disapproval but waved Lilac into the dining room. Nellie hastily combed her auburn waves over one shoulder as she stepped forward. 

“Is that dirt beneath your nails, Miss Herle?”

“Oh… um….”

“Is that a bruise on your forearm?”

Nellie clamped a hand over the elongated bruise from Morgan’s wooden sword, but quickly let go to hide both hands behind her back. She gave Mrs. Adams a sheepish smile.

“I suppose it too warm to have the whole of your arms covered,” Mrs. Adams said stiffly. “Go on. Go find your seat. But the next time, Miss Herle, that we have practice, you scrub those nails.”

Nellie’s head bobbed as she shuffled by Mrs. Adams into the dining room. She understood immediately why the man was dubbed Beast.

He was sitting next to Silas at the head of the table, but she first thought he was standing. Even sitting, he dwarfed Silas and everyone else. He was easily over six feet tall, maybe even nearer to seven. She was strongly reminded of the basketball star from the 90s that did multitudes of commercials now; down to the ball head and dark skin, except that this man was not built like a basketballer. His naked arms were sculpted and his chest was much too broad in his shirt, more like the build of a rugby player.

Silas caught her eye from the head of the table and waved her over. “Come meet our guests, Nellie.”

She noticed the woman on the other side of Silas as she walked nearer. She was the opposite of Beast minus also having dark skin; petite in build with teased, pixie-cut hair that was colored a purple ombre.

“I was going to have you sit right there next to Brigitte,” Silas said, gesturing to the empty seat.

“Did you call her Nellie,” Brigitte asked, a slight accent. She looked her over. “This isn’t Perenelle, is it?”

“Amias’s little lamb,” Beast said. His voice was so deep it resonated in Nellie’s chest; his tone had mockery in it. He took his dark eyes off Nellie and put his attention back to Silas. “You said he was here?”

“At the end of June,” Silas said. “He’s long gone. Not to worry your pretty head.” He winked at Nellie. “Nor yours.”

“I can’t place which one she looks more like,” Brigitte said, leaning on her fist to stare more closely at Nellie. “She’s got those freckles like Brue did, but not as many. Which, innit funny that Regere’s name means ‘freckled’ but he was the clear skinned sibling?” She turned away. “Speaking of which, Evora’s sister made the papers the other day. Fell flat on her face at a fashion show.”

“A random fashion blogger’s page isn’t the papers,” Beast said dully, inspecting his cup. “Food is coming?”

The food was brought in before Silas could answer. Nellie was sure to sit up straight with her hands in her lap as her plate was set before her; she could feel Mrs. Adams watching her movements and didn’t exhale until the server moved onto Arch sitting at her side.

She spent the appetizer course and most of the main course being hyper-aware of keeping her elbows off the table as Silas, Beast, and Brigitte caught up with nothing of interest reaching her ears–-minus Brigitte's random topic switching every few sentences. She was content to say nothing to either Beast or Brigitte with Morgan’s plan looming in her mind. She cursed him under her breath for destroying an opportunity to be nosy with new people.

Arden–sat to Beast’s other side–set down his fork after side-eyeing the massive man all evening. “Since no one else is asking… How tall are you?”

Beast let out a thunderous clap of laughter. “Silas, where’d you get this one?”

“Britt’s kid.”

“Britt? Really? I do vaguely remember you saying she married. Was that really long enough ago for her kid to be this old? Ah, time is cruel.” Beast beamed at Arden. “Seven foot one.”

“Can’t forget that inch neither,” Brigitte said. “Goes completely apeshit.”

“Ms. Brigitte,” Mrs. Adams snapped, “language!”

“Like these kids don’t say worse,” Brigitte mumbled, keeping her voice too low for Mrs. Adams to hear.

The main course ended and dessert–triple berry tarts with thick, whipped cream–were set before them. Nellie tried enjoying hers but could feel Beast taking looks at her across the table. She accidentally met his eyes when she glanced over to confirm, smiling shakily as he gave her a forced smile.

“I think it's more Commander High Horse than Brue,” Beast said conversationally to Brigitte. “She’s got those same eyes.”

“She’s twelve, Beast,” Silas warned.

“Already?” Beast shook his head. “Time.” He gave Nellie a softer, more apologetic smile. “Your dad and I… tolerated each other. I apologize for the coldness.”

“Your mom was good for him,” Brigitte said. “Shame she died like that.”

Nellie dropped her fork with a clatter that drew the attentions of Morgan, Itzel and those at the farther end of the table. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

“Brigitte,” Morgan called from down the table, “your condolences aren’t necessary. It was ages ago.”

“Was that condolences,” Brigitte whispered across the table to Beast, looking perplexed. “Who’s the brat, anyway?”

“Morgan Agarwal,” Beast said quietly.

“What? For serious? Blimey, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

“Oh,” Morgan called back down, “since I have your ear, there is something I want to discuss with the both of you after we’ve finished.”

Brigitte and Beast snickered to each other, murmuring over a child trying to use diplomatic language with them. Their dismissiveness was apparent when they tried to follow Silas to the small parlor after dinner only for Morgan–dragging Nellie–to cut them off.

“Did you think me joking,” Morgan asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Care to join us, Master Morgan,” Silas asked in mild amusement. He sighed heavily at Morgan’s icy stare. “Perhaps not.” He slapped Beast hard on the lower back (being where he could reach with their height difference). “I’ll get the whiskey ready. Neat?”

“On the rocks for me,” Brigitte said. “Like it extra cold these days.”

The four of them allowed a stretch of quiet as Silas headed into the small parlor. Nellie didn't want to be the one to break it even as it grew uncomfortable. She didn't want to talk to either of these people, let alone ask them for a favor. They kept studying her with mixtures of mild curiosity to mild dislike.

“The dining room should be cleared now,” Morgan said, gesturing over his shoulder. “I’m hoping this won’t be long enough for a sit down, but you did disrespect me already.”

Beast’s lip curled. “The tone on you, boy.” He loomed over Morgan. “You are not Regere. I don’t owe you any extra respect just for him being your father.”

“And I’m not intimidated just because you’re tall,” Morgan said, his fists clenched and shaking at his sides. “I’ve fought dragons too, and I have no magic.”

Beast and Brigitte exchanged a hard to read look. Nellie thought the nearest emotion was curiosity but wouldn’t bet on it. They gave a small nod, little shrug, and headed into the empty dining room. They both sat and stared expectantly.

Morgan grabbed Nellie’s shoulder as he stepped by her, gripping it like a walking stick before straightening his spin and going forward. She followed with her hands fiddling with the decorative bow tacked on her dress’s bodice.

“We require a discrete entry into China.”

The two adults let out a loud laugh that was just as quickly stifled by Morgan’s glare down his nose at them. They leaned back to allow Morgan to explain how they had been researching dragons in order to find Brue, and how Nellie wanted to speak with Rhys to cross reference things, as well as to ask if he knew a way of recognizing her in her dragon form.

“When Amias was here, he came with a message from my father saying that Rhys is in China,” Morgan finished. “I’m familiar with your work. I have full confidence–.”

“Can’t you talk normal at all,” Brigitte complained. “What’d Evora do to you, boy? I thought she’d be a better mom. Oh, speaking of–.”

“Don’t you talk about my mother like that,” Morgan said heatedly. His face was flushed.

“He’s over-educated, Brigitte, leave him alone,” Beast said, amused. “You must speak–what?--two languages? Three?”

“Three and a half,” Morgan fumed. “I’m conversational in German. Why is that a bad thing?”

“It’s not,” Beast said. “I’m not making fun. It’s impressive.” He twisted to look at Nellie. “You’ve said nothing during this, yet they’re your parents. Speak up, girl.”

“I don’t want to,” Nellie blurted out.

“Nellie doesn’t have to explain–.”

“Let her talk,” Beast said firmly. “Go on.”

She refused to meet Morgan’s eyes despite him dipping his head trying to catch hers. She kept her focus on her twisting hands, now jumbling together with the bow unmoveable. Her mind was just as jumbled as she tried to think of a way to avoid what she’d been avoiding telling her cousin for weeks, but there was too much static to think.

“I… don’t want to look for Rhys,” Nellie said quietly. Her head snapped up at Morgan’s sharp inhale. “No! That’s not…. I don’t want my life to be uprooted again. Moving is hard, Morgan, you have no idea. And you keep talking about–.”

“About the family being reunited! About us growing up together as we always should have!” He shook with fury. “Why let me waste hours of my time on this if you didn’t want any of it?” He scoffed. “You can’t tell me you like your little backwater town with its poor education and lackluster food?”

“I didn’t know about any of this, or any of you seven months ago!” Nellie was stiff-legged with her hands now fists. Her eyes flashed angrily. “You can’t expect to just drop my whole life for some fantasy life our parents dreamed up of us growing up together!”

“Why,” Morgan asked nastily. “Because of your aunt? She did lie to you, or is that too inconvenient a detail?”

“Ugh! Boy, you don’t shut up much, do you,” Brigitte whined. “Will you let the girl talk without jumping down her throat?” She looked at Beast. “Regere used to do that, you remember? Especially with Brue. Yap-yap-yap if he thought he could make himself look good.”

“Him and the Commander were always at odds in those first months,” Beast said, eyeing Nellie and Morgan. “Perenelle, you did have ample time to tell all this to Morgan. Why not?”

She stared at the floor as her anger ebbed away. Her mouth was dry and feeling all of them looking at her did not help.

“Because… because… I might not want to, but I think I have to.”

Beast’s lip curled. “Interesting.”

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

It just ends because I couldn't think of much else other than small back and forth that didn't really go anywhere except confirming 100% that Beast and Brigitte agreed to Morgan's plan. So, not something really needed. I think I was originally going to do more with the dinner/kids and that was why I had Calix go home for a visit, to lessen the amount of characters in the room, and I was going to have Arch leave too but I liked the idea of Arden and Fin harrassing him on the 4th too much. And I thought it was time to introduce the other part of the religious element with the Holy Cor since that touches on Penny's story (and Brecken's with his first serious love). The Order of Ferblanc was originally the Swiss Guard way, way, way, way, way back when this was just the vaguest idea of 'girl and cryptids' back in 2014ish. Something about teir clownish uniforms but knowing they're all highly trained amused me.

Beast is the same hieght as Shaq. I looked it up before having him declare his height to make sure it was something believable. But I guess that's all because I have to feed my overly tired, crying kid.

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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.

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“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.

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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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