Archive of Our Own ^beta

You have doomed us, Roland. The sun will set tonight and bring about an age of eternal darkness where the sinners will prey upon the innocent and plunge the world into nothingness. It will all be your fault.

“I’m sorry! My Lord, I am so- sorry!”

Your faith is weak and you are weak. I can already feel your feeble body start to succumb.

“I will go on, I swear it!”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep. It is too late for that now. It is too late for false hope.

As if on cue, Roland stumbled. He tripped over the thick root of a tree that had wormed its way in and out of the soil, half hidden by the dense layer of snow and frost that covered the woodland. It all looked the same. Roland had been walking for hours, his legs ached, his lungs felt tender and his fingers frozen.

Roland fell with a thud. He came down hard and lay there, shivering and sniffling and very quickly running out of options.

Stop crying! Get up! Get up! Get up!

Roland brought his hands to his head, clutched at it to try and block the noise out in a moment of blasphemous desperation. He couldn’t take it anymore. Everything hurt and he was cold and alone and scared. Truly, uncontrollably scared.

He was going to die here. Death had never felt real before. Roland knew it would happen eventually but he was 10 years old and felt invincible – special, for the Lord had chosen him as His mouthpiece. A prophet that would bring about an age of endless light and guide the sinners from darkness. Except that would never happen now because Roland was well and truly lost in St. Churnley’s forest and everyone knew that whoever ended up in St. Churnley’s never came out again.

Roland was surrounded by trees, erratically and tightly planted firs. Their spindly branches stretched out around him, felt as though they were snatching and tearing at his clothes as he tried to push between them, evade their grasp but even as they all stood at odd angles, Roland couldn’t make sense from left or right. He didn’t know what direction he was going in and he didn’t know the right direction to go in either.

He could hear his Mother’s voice in his head telling him to follow the Lord’s light but the trees were so tall – their layers of green needles so dense that Roland couldn’t see the sky. He was all alone in the dark, freezing more and more with each futile step he took. It was so much easier to stay curled up on the ground. He could tuck his hands under his arms like this and cling to whatever warmth he could.

“I- my, Lord, forgive me, I need to rest. I’m tired. I-“

You dare to refuse me? You do not heed the word of your Lord? Your Salvation? Do you wish to be damned as well?

“No! No, please, I’m sorry. I’ll get up! I’ll try, I-“

Roland rolled over, braced his swollen tender hands against the forest floor and pushed himself up onto shaking legs. He stumbled, felt a sharp pain and pulled his trouser leg up only to find his knee scraped and bleeding. Roland let the trouser leg down with a shaky breath. He was crying again. He had been crying on and off since he’d let go of his Mother’s hand.

This was a test, they had told him. A test of faith and if Roland was as holy as the Lord had deemed him then he would be just fine. He could find his way in the darkness. He would light the way through St. Churnley’s for the rest of them.

Roland had failed. He had failed his family and he had failed his Lord. This sort of defeat hurt all the more, the slow kind, where Roland’s body stubbornly wouldn’t let him drop dead just yet. Every second that passed, Roland felt the hope within him being snuffed out. His Lord’s voice grew louder, more desperate and cruel but Roland took one step, then another, didn’t even have the energy to beg or plead anymore. He could only walk deeper into the cold dead jaws of winter, wait for them to close around him.

He had to be delirious when he heard someone cry out for help. The whines of agony that followed. It had to be Roland’s own voice echoing back – surely nobody else had any business wandering alone in St. Churnley’s.

Still, that hope was dim but it was still there. A tiny little flame behind Roland’s ribs and he sheltered it, kept it burning just bright enough – just long enough – to carry himself onwards towards a small clearing up ahead.

~*~

Kevin wasn’t dying out there. No thank you. It was a nasty way to go and the cold wasn’t much better.

It was nothing short of a miracle that he had found the little cabin but Kevin was stubborn and hadn’t let the cold or the dark or those nasty rumours of a beast frighten him. He wasn’t stupid, mind, and knew his survival wasn’t anything more impressive than a stroke of good luck, but he’d take his victories where he could get them. They didn’t come easy out here.

Kevin’s parents had wrapped him up tight in a coat that was far too big for him and stuffed a black beanie on his head, two bobbles sewn on either side to make it look like Mickey Mouse ears. Kevin’s mum had passed him his violin case and a basket of baked goods and told him he had to bring them to his Fairy Godmother who lived deep in the woods. He was then spun around and ushered into St. Churnley’s forest without any more explanation than that.

After several hours of walking, Kevin began to nibble at the scones and rolls his Mum had prepared. Several hours after that, Kevin realised he had almost finished the lot and had no idea where he was going – there was no path to stray from, it was all trees. Then he realised – far too late, embarrassingly late – that there was no such thing as a Fairy Godmother and he had been sent into St. Churnley’s to…

He’d been sent in there to…

Kevin shook his head. No, that couldn’t be right, there was no way his parents would deliberately send him in there to get lost. Not in the middle of Winter with a beast lurking about. A beast with an insatiable hunger who would hunt down lost little boys without mercy and tear them apart piece by piece until it had eaten its fill.

Kevin felt ill. He’d probably just had too many of his Mum’s chocolate chip cookies. That had to be it. Probably also the cold. He had been walking for so long that he needed somewhere to rest and warm up.

The cabin was small and only had three tight rooms – a bedroom, bathroom and little entranceway near the front door – but that meant it would hopefully heat quickly.

Kevin located a small wood burner in the corner of the bedroom. The covers on the bed were rumpled and didn’t look especially old or abandoned. Kevin tried not to think about that. He didn’t even let himself worry about what would happen if the owner of the cabin came back and threw Kevin out into the cold. Kevin opened the door to the wood burner, arranged three logs inside he’d snatched from the basket nearby and balled up pieces of blank paper, scattered them around the wood and set fire to them first so that the rest around it would catch. Kevin dropped the match into the flames and shut the door. He’d never been in front of a proper fire before.

His parents had an electric one in their home in Bristol that they barely used. They much preferred taking a trip to Orlando in the colder months than switching the fire on. They’d always said it was cheaper for paying the heating bill.

Would his parents still take that trip to Disneyworld this year even if Kevin wasn’t there with them?

He shook his head, held his hands out to the fire in front of him. He shouldn’t cry. This was an adventure. He’d be back him in his own room in no time, even if he still couldn’t think of why his parents had abandoned him in a spooky forest that definitely had a bloodthirsty beast roaming around. Kevin wasn’t born yesterday, he knew about the rumours. Everyone did. It’s why nobody went into St. Churney’s. It’s why nobody came out alive.

Something moved at the window. Kevin caught a dark blur out the corner of his eye and jolted. His heart pounded, felt as though it was going to beat through his ribcage.

He was fine. He was safe. Nobody was out in St. Churnley’s forest. They couldn’t get him from inside the cabin. He’d pushed a chair up underneath the door handle and everything. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be a little cautious.

Kevin stood up, moved to the window and drew the curtains. He couldn’t see any monsters and now they couldn’t see him if they were out there lurking in the darkness.

Kevin sat down on the bed with a sigh. The duvet was clean but had large tears in it, smelled faintly of dog but was soft and warm and Kevin only realised how tired he was as soon as he lay down, let his head rest on the pillow. He’d only sleep a little while. Just to get his strength back and wait out this night.

Kevin pulled the covers up to his chin and nestled down against the thin mattress. He stared into those dancing flames opposite him until his eyelids became too heavy to stay open and, exhausted, he fell quickly into a deep sleep.

~*~

Edgar wailed. He screamed his voice hoarse and then some and lay there, sprawled out on the ground heaving high-pitched sobs that shook his whole body. He’d never known pain like it – was used to bumps and scrapes and bruises but this – this was torture. It was so much worse than the time he’d fallen out the sidecar of his Grandfather’s motorbike and broken both of his arms. Edgar had cried all the way to the emergency room, had listened to his Dad lecture him all about road safety while he was sniffling, waiting for x-rays and trying to ignore the aching in his arms.

Now that all seemed rather trivial. This was worse than anything Edgar could even imagine. He just wanted it all to end. He didn’t care how. At least the beast would kill him quickly…

Poe flew from the branches of trees to the ground where Edgar lay, hadn’t stopped squawking since he’d taken that fall. Since Edgar’s foot had hit that tiny metal pressure plate and the pointed jaws of that animal trap snapped shut around his shin.

Any movement, however small, sent new waves of raw pain rolling through his body until all Edgar could do way lay with his stomach to the floor of the snowy forest, slowly sapping what little warmth he had left as his leg bled sluggishly, stained the white snow red. The bone was definitely broken. Edgar’s knowledge of first aid came straight from the pages of books, felt entirely inadequate when faced with the real thing. But this was unmistakable. This was a broken leg. An open wound. Hypothermia. Dehydration. Fatigue. All rolled into one. This was how it ended for him.

Edgar’s throat felt scratched raw and he lay his head down on his arms in defeat. Nobody was coming to save him. There was nobody else here. Well, Poe was here and for as much trouble as the crow had been, Edgar was glad he wasn’t alone. Dying was scary. It might be even more scary than looking the beast in the eyes. If Edgar had known how bad things would get maybe he’d have had more courage facing the beast. Maybe he’d have let it have him if it meant avoiding getting stuck in the trap altogether.

Poe cawed again, pecked at Edgar’s face insistently.

“Nevermore!”

Edgar swatted him away lazily, barely had the strength anymore. Compared to the agony he felt from the leg injury, being jabbed by a blunt beak seemed barely worth reacting to.

“Nevermore!”

“Poe, please…” Edgar’s words slurred together. His teeth chattered and his head hurt with the effort of trying to string words together. “Not now.”

“Nevermore!” Poe barked the word into Edgar’s ear but he couldn’t summon the energy to do much other than lay there. He closed his eyes, felt himself slipping.

Without warning, Poe hopped over his back, settled again on the snow-covered forest floor. Edgar didn’t need to see Poe to know he was there, to know he had-

“Ahhh!” Edgar threw his head back to scream. Hot tears ran down his cold cheeks and he cried out, body seized by a wave of white-hot pain that rolled through him.

Edgar craned his head to look over his shoulder with eyes blurry from tears and the skewed way his glasses sat on his nose. Poe was stood by Edgar’s injured leg, right where he had pecked at that bloody point where the metal teeth of the trap had pierced skin.

“Why would you do that?” Now that Edgar had started crying he couldn’t stop. “Do you hate me? I’m sorry I’m not what you wanted! I’m sorry! I’m…” Edgar sniffled, trailed off.

Poe jabbed Edgar’s injury with his beak again, caused the boy to yell once again. Force words up his abused throat, apologies and pleas for help and noises of wild, uncontrollable pain.

Edgar wasn’t sure how long he went on like that before he heard another voice call back to him.

“H-hello?”

Edgar barely dared to breathe, could only hope he hadn’t imagined the noise in his delirium.

“Is anybody there?” The voice called out again.

Edgar froze. He felt choked but took a breath anyway. It went down painfully as though he had swallowed shards of broken glass.

“Help me! Help! Please! Please, please, please, please-“

Poe flew off, a noisy blur of black feathers, leaving Edgar on his own for a few awful minutes where he worried he’d imagined somebody else out there and had now lost his crow too and would be left on his own for the remainder of his short life.

“Is that you over there, old boy?”

Edgar whipped his head up to see a short figure emerging from between the trees. It was a boy about his age. He was in a bad way as well, wrapped up in a thick woollen jumper and coat but his face was pale, his eyes were slightly unfocused even as they searched Edgar urgently. It was obvious he’d been out here a while as well – maybe even longer than Edgar had.

“Yes! Yes, please help me! Please!”

The boy’s expression was grim as his eyes raked over Edgar’s injury. He pressed his lips together, swallowed thickly, allowed himself only a moment only a moment of worry, then he was kneeling down and smiling to Edgar.

“You’ve got yourself in a bad way, haven’t you?”

“I’m sorry.”

The boy shook his head. “Don’t be. I’ll help you, okay?”

“Thank you! Oh, thank you so much…”

The boy shuffled over to where the trap has closed around Edgar’s leg and inspected it, hands hovering over the metal but hesitant to touch it.

“This, um, this might hurt a bit but I need you to help me here, alright? I’m going to try and pry the trap open but I’ll only be able to hold it for a few seconds so you’re going to need to pull yourself out.”

Edgar nodded, felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. He wasn’t sure if it was because of finally being able to talk to another person after first setting foot in the forest or if it was due to the pain he knew was coming. Either way, he was as ready as he could be.

“What-“ Edgar stopped himself, hid his head against the cold earth under him, knew better than to impose here.

The boy was quiet for only a moment, then Edgar heard him hum. “Yes?”

“It’s nothing. Sorry.”

“What did you want to ask?”

“It’s nothing, really, I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

“You’re no trouble at all.”

Edgar almost laughed. That wasn’t true and they both knew it. He swallowed. “I just wanted to ask what your name is. You don’t have to tell me, though.”

“Oh, how rude of me, I’ve completely forgotten to introduce myself – I’m Roland Thudberry of the East Cumberland Thudberrys. I’ve normally got much better manners than this but the cold has gotten to me a bit. I’m afraid I’m not doing too well myself over here, chap.”

The boy – Roland – had his fingers around the metal jaws of the trap. He let out a groan as he strained and Edgar felt the pressure let up on his shin. He gasped, tried to wiggle free far too soon and only served to rake those metal teeth up the muscle of his leg. He cried out but didn’t stop, the thought of being free was nauseating and Edgar tried to yank harder.

The trap snapped closed again and Edgar screamed, cut the sound off by biting down hard on his arm. He heard distant and frantic apologies over his shoulder from Roland.

“S-sorry! I’m usually pretty strong but I can’t feel my fingers.” Roland cut himself off by blowing onto his hands, clapping them together and then settling them over the trap again. “Do you need a minute? We can-“

“No.” Edgar bit out. Shook his head. “No, please try again. I’m fine. I’m absolutely…” Edgar breathed through gritted teeth. “Fine.”

Edgar squeezed his eyes shut but he heard Roland suck in a sharp breath, pull at the trap again. He grunted loudly with the effort of it all and once more the metal jaws loosened their grip and Edgar moved. He dragged himself out of the trap on his forearms, shuffling along the damp dirt and panting as he forced his body to move. He inched out of the trap without looking back – couldn’t see Roland or those pointed steel teeth or the pool of blood under him.

Edgar heard a gasp followed by the sound of metal scraping and he flinched again, waited for the pain to hit all over again but it never came. Just the steady throbbing sensation that was already becoming familiar by now. Edgar rolled onto his side, saw the animal trap shut, his own blood drying over its steel mechanisms. Roland was nearby, chest heaving as he panted, breath coming out in white clouds.

“T- thank you. Thank you so much.”

Edgar tried to push himself up but his leg was all but mangled. He wouldn’t be walking like this. He wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Hold on a minute, don’t try to move.” Roland heaved himself up, stumbled closer until he was kneeling in front of Edgar. He seemed more tired than Edgar had noticed, but Roland still looked at him with sunny optimism as he reached out with both hands, inched his way towards the gaping wound on Edgar’s legs. He paused. “I don’t think I caught your name, did I?”

“It’s Edgar. Edgar Allan and that’s Poe.” He moved a shaking hand up to point at the crow perched nearby, watching the pair intently.

“So it’s your crow? I did wonder why it was flapping about in such a state. I just thought it was an omen or something, I didn’t even think it might be somebody’s pet.”

“O- oh, no, it’s not like that. Poe isn’t a pet – he’s my curse.”

Roland looked up suddenly. “You’re cursed?”

“I am.” Edgar ducked his head, overwhelmed by the intensity with which the boy regarded him. “Sorry, I should have mentioned it earlier.”

“You don’t have to apologise. I’m cursed too.”

“You are?”

“Yes.” Roland swallowed, looked to be working up the courage to speak. “I hear a voice in my head. It is the voice of my Lord – the God of the Church of the Sunset Dawn. I don’t feel like it’s a curse most of the time. I’m the chosen one.” Roland’s voice wavered and broke on the words he spoke. “I feel blessed if anything.”

Edgar fidgeted, wasn’t sure he understood but nodded anyway.

Roland heaved a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again they were steely and resolute. “I’m going to heal you. You don’t need to be scared, I’ve done this before.”

Roland’s hands found their way to Edgar’s wound. He gasped but Roland was undeterred, called upon his Lord to help him and that point where his fingers applied the gentlest of pressure felt pleasantly warm. It didn’t hurt, felt nice if anything, like Edgar had been pulled into a warm embrace even if it had been so long since he’d been held that he had forgotten exactly what it was like. Still, it was what he imagined a hug probably felt like and when Roland pulled his hands away and Edgar looked down, he noticed that the skin had knitted itself back together.

“I think the bone is still broken but that should stop the bleeding.”

“You didn’t have to do that but I appreciate it. I really do.”

“It’s quite alright.” Roland smiled again but it didn’t reach his eyes. He seemed exhausted – more so than when Edgar had first seen him – healing must have really taken it out of him but Roland did it anyway. “You don’t happen to know the way out of here, do you?”

Edgar nodded. “I do – well, I did – I looked over maps of this forest extensively but I’ve been all turned around and can’t find a way to get back on track. Poe seems to have a good idea of where to go, though.”

The crow few ahead, sat on a branch and waited impatiently. Edgar stared at his curse and it stared back at him. He couldn’t figure out if Poe was actually on his side or not. The bird was nothing but trouble, had jabbed his injured leg until Edgar screamed but he’d brought Roland to him, seemed like he was offering the pair of them a route out of here. Still, it wasn’t like Edgar had a choice but to trust him.

“Right, that sounds like a good plan to me.” Roland moved to stand beside Edgar, grabbed his arm and pulled it over his shoulders. Roland was considerably shorter but Edgar couldn’t help but lean on him anyway, found that he really couldn’t put pressure on his right foot, but Roland seemed more than happy to help him along.

“I’ll slow you down,” Edgar muttered miserably, hopped alongside Roland as he shuffled through the snow.

Roland shrugged. “I’d rather be slow with you than on my own, besides I don’t know my right from left in here.”

“There’s a trick to it. It’s written in the woodgrain of the trees but I got mixed up when I ran into the beast.”

“It’s fine-“ Roland cut himself off, inclined his head to peer up at Edgar nervously. “What do you mean you ran into the beast?”

Edgar tried to curl in on himself but couldn’t with Roland holding his body upright and steady.

“It’s an animal. Like a wolf but bigger. It wouldn’t stop howling – or screaming – I- I couldn’t really tell, to be honest, but it was yowling as it chased me down. I only got away when I fell over that ledge, came crashing down and landed with my foot in a trap.” Edgar bit back a whimper. “It’ll have my scent by now, it’ll be tracking me down. You should just leave me and run or it’ll get us both.”

Roland huffed, shook his head and Edgar worried that he’d actually drop him. Roland’s grip tightened and together they took another step and hop forward.

“I’m not going to leave you behind. No matter what.”

Edgar stared at the side of Roland’s face, couldn’t read his expression. He was steady and confident and, above all else, resolute in his decision. Edgar wished he knew how he managed it. If they lived through this he might just work up the nerve to ask him.

Edgar looked at the boy but Roland’s eyes were on Poe, used him as a waypoint to guide their way through the forest.

~*~

There was a boy in Monty’s house.

He saw him through the window as he lit that fire, held his hands outstretched towards the little stove, shivering and scowling and sniffling occasionally as though he was stubbornly trying not to cry.

Monty inched towards the treeline, tried to take a closer look but the boy stood up, shivering even as the fire lit him in an orange glow. He took a step towards the window, eyes wide as they stared into the darkness where Monty lurked. Monty stared back at him for a moment, barely dared to breathe, then-

The boy snapped the curtains shut and Monty was shut out there all alone in the darkness.

He huffed, stepped into the clearing at last, and rounded his house.

Monty couldn’t just stay outside. It was cold out there and the boy might be friendly. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who would hurt him. He was slender, didn’t have enough meat on his bones to be able to do Monty any real harm even in his human form. Besides, the wolf was always there if he needed it. It came out every 10 business days – it was very specific like that – but in moments where Monty’s life was in danger, when he was being chased or hunted or hurt it slipped out to protect him.

The wolf had been appearing more and more lately. When Monty first came across the little cabin a pair of hunters opened the door to him, pointed the muzzle of a shotgun at his nose and told him he was diseased. That all magic was an affliction and the kindest thing for them to do would be to stop it from spreading. They spoke with a little too much glee and Monty saw antlers over their door, pairs of wings nailed to the wall and a grey wolf pelt, head and all, staring up at him from the floor.

The wolf had pounced, taken Monty along for the ride. He was slow to trust after that, felt hair along his back and a growl in his throat as soon as he so much as smelled a human.

He hadn’t smelled this human, though, the wolf didn’t have time to react and before Monty knew it he was just staring at him from the treeline. The boy didn’t seem like a threat and Monty was so starved for someone to talk to in the maddening silence of the forest that he was willing to take that risk and share his house with him. He had to trust that the wolf would come out if he needed it.  

Monty wasn’t sure how to feel about that. A part of him was grateful, another part of him… couldn’t look in the mirror anymore. They shared the same eyes. Proof that Monty and the wolf were one in the same. He was as much a monster as he was a boy.

Monty reached for the doorhandle and tried to open it but it didn’t budge. He rattled the door in its frame more insistently. The wolf would have it down in seconds but it remained trapped beneath his skin, stubbly refused to help.

Monty growled, raised his fist to bang on the wood.

“Let me in! Let me in!” His pounding turned to scratching in his desperation. His fingertips tingled, he knew that claws came next, would feel them prick as his skin changed any second now-

“Hello?” A small voice called from the other side of the door in an accent Monty wasn’t familiar with.

He drew back, wasn’t used to talking to anyone and worried that he had forgotten how.

“Who’s there?” The voice wavered but it’s tone was aggressive – or a feeble attempt at it, if anything.

“I-“ Monty hesitated, wasn’t sure why he was so scared all of a sudden. “You’re in my house.”

There was silence, then Monty heard scraping and, ever so slowly, the door cracked open and the boy poked his head out, seemed surprised to see him.

“Oh.” He didn’t smile but the boy relaxed a little, dropped his defences as Monty’s heckles rose. “You’re like me.”

Monty scrambled back, tripped over the wooden steps that led to the porch. He fell back in the snow but didn’t feel cold. He hadn’t felt cold since his 10^th birthday.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to scare you!” The boy stepped out into the snow, hesitated as Monty shuffled back, a choked whine trapped at the back of his throat.

It had been so long since Monty was faced with a person that didn’t mean to hurt him. It had been so long since Monty had been in front of someone he hadn’t the desire to kill. The wolf inside him stirred but it would be another week before it came out – before it hungered.

“My name’s Kevin,” the boy said. He held his hand out towards Monty. “I’m glad to see you, if I’m honest. I thought I was the only other person out here.”

Monty looked at Kevin’s hand, tried to think of how it could hurt him. Hands like those had held guns and shot at him, they had set cruel metal traps and wouldn’t hesitate to carve Monty’s pelt from his back if he let them.

Monty shuffled back across the forest floor, tried to growl a warning but it came out like a fearful whimper instead.

“Hey, no, don’t go into the forest, the beast is out there.” Kevin took a few urgent steps forward, seemed nervous about scaring Monty more. “Come here, hold my hand, we’ll go inside together and wait out the night where it’s safe.”

He looked at Monty like he wasn’t anything to be sacred of, like he was just like any other kid.

What was that Kevin said about a beast?

Monty reached out for him, waited for the moment Kevin would reconsider, pull away and stare at Monty like he was an animal – a monster – but it never came and before he knew it, Kevin’s hand had closed around his and Monty was being hauled to his feet.

“See? It’s alright…” Kevin gently pulled Monty up those steps and into the house.

He shut the door behind them and replaced the chair, nudged it up under the doorhandle and tested its hold. Monty had never barricaded the door. He didn’t need to. Nobody else was out here anymore – well, there was now. Kevin was here and he seemed kind.

When Kevin was happy with the door, he turned to Monty, managed a smile.

Monty shifted from foot to foot, tried to think back to his time making friends on the playground of his school back in Manchester. He should probably introduce himself, that felt like a good step.

“Montague.”

“Huh?”

“Montague Finch.”

“Um…” Kevin looked about awkwardly. “What is that, exactly?”

“It’s my name.”

“Oh! That makes sense. Bit of a mouthful though, is it alright if I call you Monty instead?”

Monty shrugged.

“Alright, Monty it is, then. I’m Kevin.” Kevin stepped back into the bedroom, he looked at Monty and frowned. “I… do you know what’s happening? I, uh, my Mum and Dad sent me in here to bring my f- my godmother these treats but I think they were messing with me. Now I’m on my own and sc- I mean, I’m cold and to make it all worse there’s a beast roaming about and I don’t know how to get out of here.”

Kevin pushed the basket of food towards Monty. He could smell fresh bread and sweet treats. It had been so long since Monty had eaten anything but raw meat. His mouth watered.

“Can I eat these?”

Kevin blinked, considered him a minute then nodded.

“Yeah go for it, you must be starving.”

Monty wolfed them down, stuffed his mouth with doughy bread and flaky pastry, licked his lips to clear them of sugar and jam with a frenzied delight. He finished the basket in minutes, wished he had savoured them more. Monty felt settled, placated and full and content for the first time in a while.

“Hey, Monty, do you know your way out of here?”

Monty shrugged. “No.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you want to get out?”

“No.”

Kevin frowned. “But what about your Mum and Dad? They must be worried about you!”

“They aren’t.” Monty swallowed thickly, could still taste sugar. “It’s better for me to stay here.”

Kevin sat down opposite him, managed a weak smile. “Well, I need to get home but I’m tired; I’ve been walking a long time, shall we both rest here for the night and decide what to do tomorrow?”

Monty nodded. He found that he didn’t mind Kevin staying. It was nice having somebody to talk to. It felt safer having him around even if Monty didn’t know why. When he left for St. Churnley’s Monty had never missed any of the boys in his class but as Kevin picked himself up, made a little bed on the floor with pillows and blankets and a spare duvet from the cupboard, Monty was seized with the fear of being alone. He pushed that feeling deep down. He had to be alone. He had to be. The wolf would kill anybody who stayed and he had enough blood on his hands already.

~*~

“You’re doing great there, old boy.” Roland forced out through chattering teeth. He couldn’t feel his lips anymore. Had lost sensation in his fingers, ears and toes some time ago too.

Edgar muttered something incoherent and hopped along at Roland’s side, his arm still sung over the other boy’s shoulders to keep him upright. His head was bowed and he stared at the frost on the forest floor rather than at Roland.

“How’s the leg?” Roland tried again. “We can take a break if it’s hurting too much.”

No, Roland, this is your chance to redeem yourself. Keep moving onward. Leave the boy if you have to; follow the bird.

Roland didn’t notice Edgar slip from his grasp. The world around him quietened down to a distant hum as Roland’s eyes rolled back in his head and his jaw fell open. The only thing that felt real was his Lord’s voice. That rumbling, heavenly boom that reverberated around his head. Commanded him. Enlightened him. Shepherded him.

“M- my Lord, forgive my impertinence, but I- I thought the Church of The Sunset Dawn was supposed to heal the sick and p- punish the sinners and this boy is sick, my Lord, I would hope to spread the Better Word and proof of your mercy by attending to his injuries.”

Oh but you already have, Roland. His Lord’s voice was a deceptively gentle growl that shook his whole body. You have healed what you can and if the boy does not recover then he is not worthy. He is a sinner and you know what we do with sinners, don’t you?

Roland trembled, felt his knees buckle but forced himself to keep upright. His Lord did not like displays of weakness. Behind the dread that crawled up his spine was the horror of daring to even think about disagreeing with his Lord. Still, Roland knew he couldn’t leave Edgar here. He knew what it was like to wander St. Churnley’s on his own and didn’t want to go back to that, didn’t wish that upon anyone else either but certainly not Edgar who was trying to help him even on the cusp of consciousness. The only other boy Roland had met that was also cursed like him.

“P-p-please.” Roland managed at last. He couldn’t bring himself to say more in protest. That one blasphemous word had finished him off.

That boy is already marked for death. The beast has his scent and will drag him down into the darkness. If you stay with him, you will end up there too. That hell. That dark inky nothingness where you will never again see the light.

“Let me try, my Lord. I humbly beg of you. Let me prove myself to-“

“Roland.”

Roland felt something cold and surprisingly firm seize his wrist and the world came back to him all at once. Edgar was on the ground but had found the strength to reach up and drag him back to reality. His face was pale – well, it was pale already, but there was something ill about his pallor that Roland had just noticed. His eyes were wide behind his glasses that sat crooked on the bridge of his nose and his lips were pressed tightly together. His whole expression was unnervingly grim even if he looked to be trying to wrestle whatever he was feeling into careful composure.

“Sorry, there, chap.” Roland bent down to help Edgar up again. “I- I don’t know what came over me.”

Poe squawked up ahead and Roland turned his head to search for him but he couldn’t see far in front of his own face. A thick fog had rolled in, stripped the world of detail and disoriented him even more. They were never getting out of here. St. Churnley’s didn’t want to let either of them go.

Poe let out another shrill shriek and Roland buried his despair deep down as far as he could. He heaved Edgar’s arm over his shoulders again and took a step in the direction he thought the bird had called out from.

“That was your curse, wasn’t it?” Edgar said quietly, his head still bowed. “The voice in your head?”

Roland swallowed. The relief he felt at hearing Edgar find the strength to speak was chased by the unease brought on at mention of his Lord’s words.

“Yes,” Roland replied carefully.

“Did it tell you to leave me?”

Roland’s throat felt tight. He nodded. Waited for Edgar to push him away or yell or call his bird back so Roland was left directionless in the fog.

“Y-you should.”

“What?”

“You should. I- I’m sorry to have taken so much of your time already. You’ll stand a better chance without me.”

“I can’t leave you!”

“I’m not worth worrying over. I’ve already been enough trouble. Sorry.”

“I’m not doing this without you.” Roland huffed, heaved them both forwards blindly even as his legs protested the movement, even as his lungs heaved, tender as he sucked in another desperate breath. “We’re going to make it. Both of us.”

~*~

“Hey, come away from the window!”

Monty was pressed up against the glass again and no matter how many times Kevin tried to get him to settle down, the boy was restless. He’d tried to just ignore him and go to sleep but Monty was heavy-footed and the floorboards of the cabin creaked every time he took a step.

“But what if something’s out there?”

“There is something out there.” Kevin sat up with a sigh, exhausted and irritated. “That’s why we need to stay hidden.”

Monty did turn away from the window then, let the curtains fall back in place. He pounced on the bed and pulled the covers up around him, got comfortable then looked down at Kevin on the floor. Kevin reasoned he got the better end of the deal – Monty may have the mattress but Kevin’s little bundle of blankets on the floor was closer to the fire and even in the cabin, the cold still found its way in.

“You said there was a beast out there.”

“There is a beast out there. Everyone knows about the beast of St. Churnley’s forest.”

Monty shrugged. “All I can see is fog.”

“Well it’ll be in the fog, then.”

“What does this beast look like exactly?”

“I dunno, if I’d actually ran into it I don’t think I’d be alive right now.” Kevin couldn’t help but turn his head to the window and then the door. They were as secure as they could be. There would be plenty of animals out there in the forest the beast would pick off before it tried to get to them. “It’s like a wolf or a big dog. It kills anything in its path, you know, proper bloodthirsty and that. You can’t reason with it. When you’re up against the beast it’s winning. There’s no doubt about it.”

Monty looked down, hugged his legs to his chest. “It’s a wolf?”

“That’s what people say.” Kevin bit the inside of his mouth, felt bad right away. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not scared.” Monty’s voice was muffled by the duvet.

“Look, it can’t get us in here, alright? We’re safe.”

Monty pointedly didn’t look at the window anymore. After a minute passed in silence Kevin contemplated laying down again, trying to finally get some rest.

“Why did you come here?” Monty said at last.

“To the cabin? Or the forest?”

“You said you Mum and Dad told you to.”

“Yeah.” Kevin had tried very hard not to pull this particular thread. He didn’t want to cry in front of Monty, especially when he didn’t seem at all bothered about being stuck in a cursed forest. “They probably sent me in here to test me or something – when they do weird stuff like this, they say it’s to give me a ‘character arc’ or something. They like Disney movies a lot.”

Monty blinked a little owlishly. “I’ve seen 101 Dalmatians,” he offered.

“Yeah that sort of thing, but they’re like really into it.” Kevin nodded quickly. “The other reason they sent me here could be…”

“What?” Monty leaned forward slightly and Kevin noticed his fingernails were unusually long, had dirt caked beneath them.

“It’s stupid but maybe they sent me in here so I… wouldn’t come back.”

“Did they hate you?”

“No!” Kevin flinched at his own tone. “I know they didn’t – don’t – but I’m cursed. It’s a stupid curse but it’s still a curse and maybe that’s enough for them. I don’t know.”

“You’re cursed too?”

Kevin whipped his head up. Monty was looking at him wide-eyed, nervous and hopeful.

“Yeah, I’ve got musical farts. I can’t control it but when I eat food that upsets my stomach, it, well, yeah, just sounds like I’ve got an orchestra coming out my arsehole.” Kevin shifted, couldn’t believe he was grateful to be hungry for once. “What about you?”

Monty shook his head. “Mine’s really bad.”

“It can’t be worse than musical farts.”

“It is.” Monty lay down then, yawned performatively and pulled the covers up over his head. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay? I’m just really tired right now.”

Kevin frowned but let the matter drop. He could really do with the sleep. He settled down on his little blanket pile and closed his eyes.

“Alright, then. Night, Monty.”

“Goodnight.”

~*~

They were reaching their limit. They’d lasted longer than Edgar had thought they would though and if they weren’t both about to keel over and succumb to the elements he’d have found that all rather impressive.

Poe flapped about Roland’s face, pecked at him until he cried out and tried to swat him away.

“Poe…” Edgar tried to push as much authority into the word as possible but he was slurring even those three simple letters and the whole attempt was a little pathetic.

When Poe had had grown bored of terrorising Roland, he moved his attention to Edgar, scratched at him with his little talons and cawed loudly in his ear.

“I- I t-think your bird is- is trying to tell us some-something.”

Edgar nodded but figured there was as much chance of Poe trying to help as there was of him just trying to amuse himself by causing trouble.

“W-what is it, Poe?” The bird few off into the mist, returned to them, then disappeared in the same direction, shrieking insistently as he did so.

“T-t-that way.” Shivering and exhausted, Roland trudged in the direction Poe insisted on, pulled Edgar along at his side.

They were both stumbling over their own feet, had Edgar yelping and sucking in a breath through gritted teeth. Roland staggered but righted himself, couldn’t get Edgar up over him again but tried. He really, really did but Edgar sank to the floor like a sack of sand.

“I- I can’t.” Edgar shuddered, felt hot tears slide over his cold cheeks. He didn’t even have the breath to cry properly. “I can’t g-go on.”

“You can!” Roland looked down at Edgar, seemed to sway slightly as though he was fighting his own urge to collapse. “I- I’ll try to h-heal you again.”

Roland brought his hands to Edgar’s leg but in a moment of desperate delirium Edgar batted them away. Roland had done enough. He needed to save his strength to go on – that might be another hour or another day, it didn’t matter, that could be the difference between getting out and dying here.

“What?”

“G-go.” Edgar wrapped his arms around himself, found that he was barely even shivering anymore. “Go with P-Poe.”

Roland stared at him, painfully devastated and Edgar wished not for the first time that he wasn’t so much trouble. That he wasn’t making it so hard for Roland to turn his back on him.

Roland opened his mouth to say something but without warning his body sagged, still somehow upright but limp as though he were a marionette. The boy’s eyes rolled back and his lips fluttered around words like he was talking in his sleep.

“F-f-forgive me, my Lord, I h-heed you, I do. He is weak but the power you grant me is strong.”

Poe dove for Roland again, hit him on the cheek and he jolted, blinked a few times and came back to himself. Roland stomped his feet, shook his hands and took a puff from his inhaler.

He stared down at Edgar with furrowed brows then bent down to take one of his wrists in both hands and dragged him along as hard as he could. Edgar couldn’t stop the scream that forced its way up his throat. The pain kept him awake but it did cause him to thrash, make Roland’s attempt at moving him with so much more difficult.

“S-sorry, chum, I know this h-hurts b-but I am not letting you go here. We’re c-close. I know we a-are. Try to stay with me a l-little longer.”

Edgar wasn’t sure how long they went on like that. It felt like he’d spent forever and no time at all on that forest floor. Roland dropped his hand suddenly, yelled something frantic and intelligible and then he took hold of Edgar under his arms and was yanking him with renewed vigour.

Edgar’s first thoughts went to the beast and he found himself prepared to struggle so Roland was forced to drop his body and leave him there. He found instead though, that upon craning his head, there was a little wooden cabin. It glowed golden against the white forest around them, thin slivers of light spilled from under the front door. Edgar wanted to cry all over again, saw Roland just as desperately trying to hold back tears. He let Edgar go on the porch to pound on the door.

“Help! Help us! Please!”

Edgar used the last of his strength to claw his way along the ground, paw at the door in a sad attempt at knocking. Roland moved to the window, beat against that too until the pair of them heard movement from inside and Roland bounded back to Edgar in time to see the door open.

A scrawny boy with a ginger bowl cut poked his head out, froze upon catching sight of them.

“Who is it?” Another voice came from inside the house and another boy about their age peered around the open door to see Edgar and Roland, shivering and trying not to cry.

“Can- can we come in, p-please?” Roland bit out, tucked his hands under his arms now that he didn’t have to pull Edgar any further.

“S-sorry for w-waking you,” Edgar added, suddenly felt embarrassed at making such a fuss.

The boy with ginger hair snapped out of his surprise, bent to help Edgar up as the other boy took his right arm. They lifted him easily, brought him inside the cabin. Edgar looked over his head to see  Roland stumbling in after them, sighing with relief at the warmth of the fire washed over them. Roland held the door open for Poe before closing it behind them.

“Are you alright?” The smaller boy asked, set Edgar down on a nest of blankets on the floor in front of the wood burner. “Are any of you injured?”

Roland nodded to Edgar’s leg. “Edgar got caught in a bear trap.”

The quieter boy stood off to the side, said very little but the way he flinched at the mention of the trap was not lost on Edgar. He seemed more than happy to wrap himself up in shadows as his friend knelt at Edgar’s side, rolled his tattered and bloody trouser leg up to see the wound.

“I healed the flesh wound,” Roland spoke with his hands outstretched towards the fire. “The bone underneath is still broken b-but I might need a quick nap before I do anything else.”

The ginger-haired boy shook his head. “I’m a healer too. I can help.”

Roland huffed a weak little laugh but when he smiled again it was bright and sincerely optimistic.

“I sure am glad we found you out here. You’re cursed too?”

“Yeah, we both are.” He nodded to the boy that was still hiding in the corner of the room. “You two…”

Roland nodded. “We are as well. I’ve spent these last month’s thinking I’d never meet anyone else like me and I’ve met three of you in a day! I’m Roland, by the way.” Roland reached to take the boy’s hand quickly, seemed sheepish when the other boy’s eyes widened.

“Jesus you’re cold! Get closer to the fire.” He pulled the heavy duvet from the bed and tossed it in his direction. “I’m Kevin.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Kevin,” Roland looked down at Edgar on the floor and he tried not to shrink back under the attention. “That’s my friend, Edgar.”

They were friends? Edgar hadn’t had a friend before. He’d had peers and family and Poe but none of those things were deliberate. Roland helping him through the forest despite the cold and his own discomfort. Healing him. Refusing to leave Edgar behind to save his own skin. That was friendship and Edgar felt beyond grateful, so entirely unworthy, but he’d make it up to him somehow. Edgar would find a way.

“Edgar, was it?” Kevin looked down at him. He didn’t smile but there was a warmth to him that made Edgar feel safe if a little self-conscious but that wasn’t uncommon so it was likely a defect with him rather than Kevin.

“That’s r-right.”

The boy gave him a curt nod. “Kevin.”

Kevin then settled his hands carefully over Edgar’s leg, delicately felt the area with his fingertips until Edgar flinched, bit back a shout. The boy apologised. He closed his eyes and focused as Edgar braced himself.

He heard Kevin’s magic rather than felt it. It started out as a simple melody – something high-pitched, distinctly a string instrument but grew louder and more complex, was joined by brass and woodwind that complimented the tune. When Edgar glanced down it was to see treble clefs and musical notes rise up from behind Kevin, drift to the spot on his leg Kevin laid his hands over. They wrapped around him, surrounded by sound that got louder and louder until it stopped abruptly and Kevin moved away.

The residual pain in Edgar’s leg left him as the sound passed. He tried to wiggle his toes inside his shoe but was still far too cold to even feel them. Regardless, he felt much better than he did moments ago. Still cold and scared and hurting but it was manageable now, the sort of pain that could be fixed by laying down and getting some real rest without having to worry about not waking up afterwards.

“T-thank you.” Edgar swallowed, ducked his head.

“It’s nothing.” Kevin shrugged. “Did you see anyone else out there?”

Roland looked away from the fire to join the conversation. Some of the colour had returned to his cheeks and he was only shivering occasionally. He sat cross-legged on the floor near the roaring fire with the duvet pulled tight around his shoulders.

“No, I found Edgar and Poe,” Roland nodded to the crow that perched on the edge of the wardrobe and watched over them. “Edgar had a run in with the beast though, didn’t you?”

“Really?” Kevin scooted closer, seemed tense and excited and scared all at once. “What happened? How did you get out alive?”

Edgar fiddled with the hem of the blanket he lay on. “I, um, well, it wasn’t anything special, really, I was just walking along with Poe and the fog got really bad and it was there, it came right at me. I’d been practicing spells before we got into the forest so I was able to cast Prestigiditation and took the chance to run. I- I fell though and ended up in that trap where Roland found me.”

“I see.” Kevin nodded, seemed not to really know what to say. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t die.”

Edgar laughed weakly. “M-me too…”

Poe took that moment to fly down from the bookcase. He settled on the shoulder of the boy who sat away from them, considered him a moment before pecking incessantly at his cheek.

“P-Poe stop that!” Edgar stood up quickly, felt himself sway but mercifully didn’t fall. His foot hurt when he put pressure on it but most importantly he could put pressure on it.

Edgar took a few ungraceful steps towards Poe, got his hands around the crow’s body and pulled him off of the other boy.

“I- I’m so sorry! Poe doesn’t have the best manners, he-“

The boy looked up, met Edgar’s eyes. There was recognition there, a terrible familiarity that sank in and made Edgar’s blood run cold. He screamed, couldn’t get his injured leg to move quick enough as he stumbled back, let Poe go to cower and shield himself with both arms.

“Edgar!” Roland was at his side in seconds, brows drawn together as he looked Edgar over for injuries, seemed confused when he found none. “What’s wrong old chap?”

“I-i-it’s him! It’s the beast!”

“What?” Roland laughed but the smile fell from his face as Edgar lay there shaking and breathing heavily.

He needed something to defend himself, to defend the others. They were trapped in that tiny room with the beast! Edgar had seen what it could do, those open jaws and lolling tongue. The wet nose that scented the air, turned its huge furry body to stare at Edgar with those steely grey eyes as he Edgar begged for his life, shook his head and tried his best to scramble away. That fall had saved him, as horrible as it was. If the beast had been able to follow him Edgar would never have made it. Well, that walk hadn’t done him any good now, Edgar was going to die anyway.

Kevin stepped between them, back to the beast like Edgar was the one not making any sense here.

“That’s Monty, he’s not going to hurt you.”

“He is! He’s the beast!”

Kevin turned around, pulled a reluctant Monty closer by his wrist.

Monty looked away from them, didn’t seem scared but he didn’t seem comfortable either.

Kevin tugged at Monty’s wrist lightly, tried to get his attention. “You aren’t going to hurt any of us, are you?”

Monty looked at him at last, grey eyes alert and earnest. He paused a moment before he spoke. “I don’t want to hurt you guys.”

~*~

“You… what?” Kevin dropped Monty’s hand and Monty found himself quietly grateful.

He could run away if he really had to. He didn’t want to lose the house though and it was his house first. He’d taken it from the hunters and threw away all the dead animal parts that made his skin crawl and he’d brought in logs for the fire. He wouldn’t be pushed out of another home – if the others were so bothered by Monty’s curse they could leave.

“It’s just, you know, the curse, isn’t it?”

“Monty what’s your curse?”

Kevin was shaking a little bit and trying not to show he was nervous. His brows were drawn together and he shuffled like it was a conscious effort to stay rooted in place.

“I turn into a wolf every 10 business days and the wolf needs to hunt – to be fed – so unless there’s like a butchers nearby I’ll probably kill you, yeah.”

The boys opposite him were quiet, troubled, nervous.

It was Roland that broke the silence. “Well, that is rather a lot to handle, isn’t it? I feel like my curse isn’t that bad all of a sudden.”

“Yeah…” Kevin jolted like he had remembered where he was. When he looked at Monty, the boy was undeniably scared, it was an expression Monty had more then got used to since that terrible Christmas day, but despite it all, there was no hatred there. None whatsoever. “But we’ll figure it out. If we can find our ways out of St. Churnley’s then we’ll have mastered our curses, right? All we have to do is get you home within the next – when did you last turn into a wolf?”

“About a week ago.  days, I think, it’s hard to tell the time here.”

“5 business days?”

“Oh, no, um, 5 business days.”

“Well that gives us another 7 to get out and if we all work together I’m sure we won’t have a problem.”

Monty didn’t know there was a way to master his curse but then he’d been turned loose in the forest without any help at all. Besides, the other boys all seemed so sure in their reasoning it was hard for Monty to bring himself to doubt them.

“Well that settles it then,” Roland stepped forward to throw Monty a determined grin. “We’ll overcome these curses and leave St. Churnley’s forest together-“

“It’s not a forest…”

The three of them startled at Edgar’s voice. He spoke up from where he stood, still curled in on himself behind Roland and Kevin. His eyes were on the floor and he held onto the wall to keep from putting too much pressure on his bad leg.

“What?” Kevin asked with a frown.

“St. Churnley’s isn’t a forest.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Me neither.” Roland shook his head. “Edgar, what are you saying?”

Edgar looked up at last, seemed confident with the words coming out of his mouth even if he wasn’t confident in himself. “St. Churnley’s is a house. A big house actually, more of an estate than anything.”

“If St. Churnley’s isn’t a forest what are we in now?”

Edgar adjusted his glasses. “Technically this is the Plagueround.”

Kevin folded his arms, looked confused. “The playground?”

“No, Plagueround. It’s a forest that’s said to be cursed. It succumbed to a blight hundreds of years ago and everything in it is said to be infected; dying a slow, painful death. When you go in, you get turned about in the trees – doomed to walk round and round.”

“Oh plague-round.” Kevin rolled his eyes. “Right, I get it now. That’s a stupid name.”

Edgar laughed awkwardly. “Yes, it’s a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you call something cursed it’s probably bound to end up cursed eventually.”

“That’s not how my curse worked,” Kevin muttered.

Monty couldn’t help but chime in. “It is how mine worked.”

“Well, either way we need to move on eventually. We’ll run out of food or water or logs and we’ll freeze to death.”

“Or I rip you all apart when I turn into a werewolf.”

“Right,” Roland amended. “Or Monty turns into a werewolf and rips us all apart.”

Kevin threw himself back on the bed with a sigh and Roland perched beside him. Monty sat down on the floor near Edgar but not so close as to scare him again, though he wasn’t entirely sure he was able to put the boy at ease exactly. Edgar sat after a moment as well, was still shaking – still cold or scared or something else Monty didn’t know how to fix-

“I- I’m sorry I said you were a beast,” Edgar said suddenly. “I didn’t know you were cursed like me and in the books I’ve read there are stories of monsters and I just thought… it doesn’t matter what I thought.”

“Everyone’s heard those stories,” Kevin chimed in from behind them. He had shut his eyes again but nothing about his expression was restful.

“I haven’t,” Roland added with a shrug. “But this is all rather new to me. I knew about the curse but St. Churnley’s – the house, that is – is all a bit of a surprise.

Monty took a few seconds to work up the nerve to speak again. Edgar was looking at the fire and not at him. “I’m sorry I almost killed you.”

“It’s not your fault, the curse-“

“No, when I saw you before, that wasn’t- the wolf comes out when I’m in trouble. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen people that didn’t want to kill me.”

“Oh…” Roland’s voice was soft behind him. “Monty are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Monty’s words came with more bite than he’d intended and he winced, took a breath and tried again. “They’re… they’re gone now.”

Silence passed between them again as the wind howled outside and the fire crackled.

“I’m just thinking-“ Kevin sat up suddenly, massaged his temple. “Edgar, you knew about the forest – the Plagueround – and you still came here even though it was dangerous.”

“Y-yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you send a cursed boy to St. Churnley’s, that’s the way it has to be.”

“And what happens at St. Churnley’s?”

“I don’t really know.” Edgar looked at his crow, seemed uneasy. “My Grandfather said that there’s people who can help there.”

“So should we go home or to St. Churnley’s?”

“What if we get to the house and nobody’s there?” Roland added. “We’ll have run out of food and things to drink and Monty will get-“

“It’ll be my time of the fortnight.”

“Right. That.”

Kevin sighed. “Well my parents are probably already on their way to Orlando so I don’t think there’s anything for me to go back to. I vote we try St. Churnley’s.”

Edgar nodded. “M- my father and grandfather are probably gone too. They told me to not come back until St. Churnley’s sorts my Poe out, he- he’s meant to be a raven, you see.”

“I…” Monty swallowed thickly. “I can’t go home. I can’t.”

Roland sat there with his head bowed, nodded along but seemed to be struggling the most to come round on the idea.

“You’re right. You’re all right. I just… I miss my family and I’m scared but we should see this through.”

Kevin nodded. “We’re agreed then, tomorrow we’ll get to St. Churnley’s and find whoever it is that can help us master our curses.”

The others mumbled their agreement as they sat there, lapsed into a nervous silence but it was the most comfortable Monty had felt in weeks. The fire flickered, the wind howled and Kevin hummed a little tune as he started to pull more blankets from the cupboard and went about making up more beds on the floor. He didn’t say as much but for the first time in a long time Monty felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.