Where the Moon Lies

Title: Where the Moon Lies
Author: Azalea J.
Warnings: Angst. Language.
Disclaimer: This is a work of Original Fiction. All characters and settings belong to the author Azalea J.
Word Count: Approx. 7 300

- Chapter Three -
Jesse shouted and went to charge the man, but his collar was caught and he was dragged back roughly. "Get off me!" He hollered, kicking madly, frantic to get to King who was now braying, terrified, as the man lifted her and started to carry her off. "KING!" Jesse kicked true, and the man holding his collar let go with a yelp. The other man grabbed hold of his pack to keep him where he was, but Jesse shrugged it off and charged the man holding his sister. He barreled into the man's back with all the weight in his shoulders, and sent all three of them sprawling into the road. King rolled out of the man's arms as he fell, and somersaulted to a stop. She shook her head irritably, shaking badly.

Jesse let into the man with all his fear and fury, punching at his back and head and kicking at his ass and legs, screaming all the while, telling him to never try and take his horse from him again, ever!

"Here! What's this now!?"

Yelping when Jesse clipped his ear, the man stood and threw Jesse off like so much clothing, and ran off down the street. People had gathered, wondering at the commotion, but Jesse just threw himself at King and buried his face in her neck. She whinnied plaintively, and nuzzled him, trying to offer her brother comfort, though she was still shaking herself.

A hand touched his shoulder and he winced, it was mistress Bradbury. He looked up at her, cognizant of the tears streaking his dirty cheeks, then looked away, searching for his pack. When he couldn't spot it, he cursed vehemently. His father's pack, all their food, the Bowie, the pot and spoons - his and King's entire life was in that pack! Grinding his teeth, Jesse wiped his eyes with his jacket sleeve, and found he still held the carrot in white-tipped fingers. He offered it to King, and she ate it without ceremony.

He ran one of his hands through his hair, the other he kept firmly stroking behind King's ears. What the hell were they going to do?

"Are you all right, boy?" A stranger asked him.

Jesse didn't look up. "I've just been robbed."

"The constable's after them horse thieves now."

"Well, let me know when they decide to give me back my pack." Jesse stood up and dusted himself off, still not meeting mistress Bradbury's concerned eyes. King stepped closer and nudged him gently in the side, and his hand fell down and found her ears out of habit. For the first time in his life Jesse felt as though he had no options; at this time of year he'd starve in under a week, it didn't matter what he did. King might live, she was wild enough to survive off bark and dead grass and what greens she could find until spring. But Jesse couldn't eat bark, and grass wasn't the same to his body as it was to hers. He'd been so damn eager for them eggs.

"Why don't you come inside?"

Jesse looked up right then, and saw mistress Bradbury was quite sincere.

"I…"

"Come along, boy. You look hungry enough, and I'll have broth to spare this evening." Adelaide, from where she'd been standing outside her shop door, turned and went inside, clearly expecting him to follow, or not; it being none of her concern.

The mob that had gathered was slowly dispersing, leaving back to their homes and shops with quiet murmurs and rumors already spreading.

Although his pride and instincts told him no, logic told him he could wait on any news of his things outside in the cold, or inside at a warm hearth. He looked at King. "My filly…"

Mistress Bradbury looked at King; the horse so tight to Jesse's side they might need a metal bar to separate them. She saw the problem: King had almost been horse-napped; Jesse wasn't likely to leave her just anywhere right now."

"Is she skittish?"

"Mam?"

"Will she sit still if she were brought inside?"

"Yes, she's very calm when she's not being abducted."

Mistress Bradbury smiled at that. " She is very small, I'm sure Adelaide won't mind terribly much."

He hoped, as he followed Mistress Bradbury inside, that Adelaide wouldn't mind.

He led King carefully through the doorway, and carefully around the tables and stacks of stock. They were sat close to the hearth, off to the side where they wouldn't be in the way. The stones were warm and Jesse found himself very grateful. King stuck to his side, they sat there through the afternoon, curled together, Jesse's mittens hanging off the mantle, drying. King's small trembling eventually stopped, and Jesse busied himself with her mane and tail, untangling and combing as he did every night, and she nuzzled through his hair searching for ticks, though she never found any.

The hearth was in the very middle of the two shops; they watched customers come in and out of Adelaide's grocery, mostly mothers with small children attached to their winter dress hems. Adelaide was friendly but all business, bustling here and there and keeping firm track of her inventory. Mistress Bradbury, on her side, greeted more women with tears in their sleeves and dresses, and their children or husband's coats that need mending. One woman came in and browsed the dresses on display for a long time before leaving, but it was mostly the mittens and scarves and coats that were sold. He looked longingly at a thick caribou coat, fur trim about the collar, and was grateful that the horse-thieves hadn't taken his own coat.

Through the dirty windows, the sunlight grew dimmer and dimmer, until finally Adelaide was forced to light the rush lamps around the room. Four in total, the candles were thick and illuminated the dark corners of the room the firelight could not reach. Not much later Adelaide hung a thick cauldron above the flames between patrons, and began slicing up carrots and potatoes into the water. He remembered her telling him she had no potatoes for sale; these must be from her own personal stock.

A boy came in not long after, as she was pushing greens off a cutting plank into the water, and greeted her with rosy cheeks and nose. "I'm home, ma."

Adelaide put the plank to her hip, freeing one hand, and thumbed his cheek with a smile. "Wash up quick, supper'll be soon." The boy started into the back - where Adelaide disappeared to from time to time - but paused for a moment when he spotted Jesse and King. Jesse gazed back, trying to appear null and unthreatening, and the boy moved on without a word.

King was dozing, her head lying across Jesse's knees.

As the windows grew ever darker, mistress Bradbury and Adelaide began to close up the store; putting things away, serving the last few customers. They were quiet, and worked patiently, their footsteps brisk and paced. The air of the shop was very peaceful - silent but comforting in its warmth. Eventually Adelaide came around and locked the main door, before making her way briskly to the fireside. "Into the kitchen with you. The horse stays here." Jesse obeyed mutely, nudging King as he worked his way out from under her, letting her know where he was going so she wouldn't wake in a panic later.

Behind the shop was a tiny room with a table and chairs. He sat down as quickly and politely as he could, used to fireside meals on his haunches in the cold snow. Adelaide's son sat across from him, staring at him openly, but he never spoke to Jesse, and Jesse never spoke at all. He couldn't be much older than Jesse was, maybe twelve or fourteen winters.

From the other room there was a sharp bang bang bang on the door, Jesse jumped, visibly, and the boy looked at him curiously. There were voices, and then Mistress Bradbury came in with a bear of a man trailing after her. The man also gave Jesse an odd look, but slung his coat on a hook by the door, and sat down heavily at the table. "How was school, Dacre?"

Jesse looked at the boy when he answered. "It was alright."

The man grunted. Mistress Bradbury and Adelaide came in right then with the food, and Jesse's nostril's flared. A plate was set before each boy and the man, and no one touched anything until the women had returned with plates of their own. Then everyone began to eat.

Jesse looked down at his plate. Sliced potatoes mixed with carrots, and green herbs he was guessing were dill, or crushed thyme. To the side were green beans, fresh and juicy, unlike the carrots. There was milk to drink, but no meat.

He was astonished at first, not to see any meat, and felt a little queasy because of it, but calmed himself quick. He could survive a meal without meat - he'd done before. He remembered he had not seen a butchers shop on his way through. Meat must be scarce in the winter in this town; they could not have that many hunters.

His first bite quelled his uneasiness, however, and he found himself scarfing the food down as fast as he could, while he listened to the conversation around him. The family, for that was what it was, talked easily of daily things. He guessed the man was mistress Bradbury's husband, and learned he worked as one of the blacksmiths. The two of them had their own home, but apparently ate with Adelaide and her son every night. Dacre watched Jesse all evening, making Jesse nervous and close-mouthed. When a knock came heavily on the door, he nearly - again - leapt out of his seat.

Adelaide got up to answer it, and when she came back she looked pointedly at Jesse. "Constable's hear for you."

Wiping his mouth quickly on his sleeve, Jesse pushed his chair back and all but dashed to the front door.

"You the boy what was robbed?"

"Aye." Jesse nodded.

The constable handed over his pack. Jesse opened it quickly; the only things left were the spoons, the grits and the plank. The robbers had taken everything else. The bowie, the pot, the eggs… "Damn." He muttered.

The constable was sympathetic. "We tracked them far as we could, but they'd horses tethered outside town. The pack was by the road."

"Well… thank you, all the same."

The constable tipped his hat, and left.

Jesse, mindful to close and latch the door, made his way to King, and held the bag of grits and oats open for her. Eagerly she stuck her head inside, and munched up as much as she could, as quick as she could. In the kitchen he could hear them talking.

"Who is he?" The man was asking, his voice gruff, sounding as if it were thick with soot.

"Boy was robbed this afternoon. They tried to take his pony, but made off with all his foodstuffs instead."

"Damn."

"Dacre, don't cuss."

"But who is he?"

"Don't rightly know; he came in this afternoon with pelts to trade for rations. Nice pelts, too. Kinda wished he'd brought in the meat as well."

"Don't he have a name?"

Someone must have shaken their head, because the conversation pressed on.

"You're putting him up for the night then?"

There was a silence. "I'm not so cold I'll turn a boy out in the cold with no food. Although…"

Jesse chose that moment to enter. "I can fend for myself. If you'll let me stay on the night, I can hunt in the morning. And pay you back with whatever I can kill." He was never more grateful than the day he'd decided to keep his fathers bow - and the few arrows he had left - tied to King atop the rolled blankets for easier access. When the robbers had failed to take King, they'd failed to take the bow, as well. And a good bow it was, it had even survived the grappling the man had subjected King to.

Adelaide's eyebrows rose, and she motioned him to sit back down. "What did the constable say?"

"They found my pack, but most of my things are gone."

"You say you can hunt?"

"My father was a tracker, he taught me everything he knew. The thieves didn't get my bow."

"A tracker?" The man stroked his beard; it was red, bright as a robin's breast - the same color as his wife's hair.

Adelaide brought his attention back to her, "You have a name."

Jesse hesitated. "Jesse Decanter."

"Decanter?" Adelaide looked as if the name might be familiar to her, but then shook her head as, whatever it had been, passed.

Mistress Bradbury leaned over the table. "You're on you own, Jesse?"

"No, I have my pony, Kingsley."

Mistress Bradbury smiled sympathetically at him. He didn't want her sympathy, he wanted a bed, and then he wanted to leave and quick. "When did you loose your parents?"

"Don't rightly know when I lost my ma. Lost my pa… a year ago. Got lost in a storm."

Mister Bradbury asked him, "How old are you, son?"

"Eleven."

"Why don't you come and live with us?"

"Avery?" Mister Bradbury looked like the woman had smacked him in the face with her plate.

Mistress Bradbury - Avery, looked at her husband plaintively. " We have the room, and it's not as though we haven't been trying for one of our own." At that, mister Bradbury was inclined to hush up. Mistress Bradbury turned back to Jesse, who was standing still with his mouth shut, not quite knowing what to think. "Would that interest you? If it's earning your keep you're worried about, you can hunt for us."

Jesse took a pained look at the doorway to the shop, knowing King was lying at the hearth just beyond. They'd always been alone, and Finn's fears of town's and their people had not died with him. "I don't think I-"

Mistress Bradbury got to her feet, clearing the table as she spoke. "You can think on it. I'm sure you're not used to people being friendly to you. My husband and I would both be happy to have a child in our home. And I would personally be put to ease knowing you're in a safe, warm bed."

Adelaide cleared her throat as she got to her feet and helped mistress Bradbury clear the table. "Whatever you decide, you are more then welcome to stay here for this night. You may share Dacre's bed upstairs, or you can sleep at the hearth. Regretfully the horse must stay at the hearth."

Jesse nodded. He left the room and went straight to King, and settled down by her side. He'd ask her what she'd rather do once the others had gone to sleep. They could stay the night and leave in the morning. They could even leave now - it wasn't windy outside, and their bellies were full. He could hunt in the morning and trade for more rations… it was the loss of the Bowie that gave him pause; you couldn't survive in the wild without a knife. You needed it for everything.

Adelaide sent her son off to bed, and Jesse could hear her and mistress Bradbury clearing the table and cleaning up the kitchen.

Mister Bradbury came out and dragged a chair with him to the fire; there he sat and smoked something from a pipe. "She's a beautiful filly."

Jesse looked up, startled. Then he nodded, and went back to staring at the flags.

He didn't mean to, but he fell asleep only moments later, with King's head warming his legs, her flank warming his side, and the fire warming the rest of him.

---

King made sure to wake him just as the sun was slanting in through the shop's windows. He blinked open his eyes blearily, disoriented at first from the warmth of the fire at his back. Someone must have tended it in the night.

He stretched, and offered King the bag of grits for her breakfast. He had to stop her before she gobbled the whole thing.

Thumping footsteps sounded overhead, above him, then back, and then they sped up, thumping louder and coming closer and Jesse realized that if there was a second floor, there was obviously also a staircase. The footsteps hit the main floor and Dacre's voice rang out in the kitchen, "Mornin' ma!"

"Morning, Dacre. Go and see if he's awake, will you?"

Jesse managed to get King off him just as Dacre rounded the corner. "Oh. Food's ready." He said, spotting Jesse in a squat with a guilty look on his face. He turned and went back into the kitchen. Jesse followed after.

Adelaide must have had to step over him to prepare the porridge steaming away in bowls on the table, he thought. There were only three bowls; he reasoned the Bradbury's must eat breakfast elsewhere. They ate in relative silence, Adelaide asking her son something and Dacre answering. Jesse heard King whinny in the other room, and he knew she wanted to stretch her legs; he winced.
What was he going to do?

As soon as Dacre was finished, he raced upstairs, came back down with a book slung under his arm, kissed his mother on the cheek and was gone. School? Jesse thought.

"That pony of yours sounds like she could use some exercise." Adelaide startled him by asking as she bent to take away his bowl.

"Yes." Jesse got up, needing no further permission. He grabbed his things and led King out the storefront. He didn't say whether or not he'd be back, and Adelaide didn't ask.

In the comforting silence of the forest, when the sounds of the waking town were muffled beyond the trees, Jesse took his bow out from beneath the blankets on Kings back, and began to string it thoughtfully.

"Should we stay, do you think?"

King nickered and pranced in a circle.

He had no idea what that meant.

"I'm being serious here. We've got no knife, no food, and no pot to cook it in if we had - and no food means no carrots or apples, remember?"

She snorted and shook her head irritably.

Jesse frowned and got to his feet. "C'mon. We have to shoot something today whether we're staying or not." There would be no big game so close to a town, but the chances of spotting a hare or a squirrel were good. And there were always birds.

As he and King made their way through the forest, his father's warning stood out stark in his mind. But despite that, the lure of everything Mrs. Bradbury was offering... was powerfully tempting.

They trudged together quietly through the snow.

---

They returned to the town that evening, and Jesse entered the grocery with unease curdling in his stomach. King came in with him, and though a woman browsing the dresses gave King an odd look, she went back to her browsing without saying anything.

"You're back." Adelaide greeted him from behind the counter; her eyes traveled to the three jackrabbits tossed across King's back.

"Aye." He led King over to the hearth, and took the rabbits and blankets from her back. He carried the rabbits over to Adelaide. "You're more than welcome to the meat as my thanks, but if you would, I'd like to keep the hides."

"Decided to go on your way?"

"Aye."

"I take it you haven't already prepared these hides for a reason?" She said knowingly.

"I lost my knife to those robbers, I'd like to buy one with the pelts. - And a pot."

"Knives and pots are worth a lot more than a couple rabbit pelts."

"I'm prepared to bring more hides until I can afford them."

Adelaide was quiet a long time. When she finally spoke, her words were carefully chosen. "Why don't you stay with Avery and Russell? I can assure you they're honest folk, they've been trying for a son or daughter for many years now, but it's quite obvious Avery's barren. Mind you, I've offered them Dacre many times, and they won't have him." She smiled and winked at him, and Jesse, despite himself, felt a chuckle tickle his throat. "If you stay here, you can go to school and make friends. Dacre may be a shy sort when he meets new folks, but once he's got to know you, he'll make a right friend. You won't starve, and you won't freeze."

"But what do they get out of it?"

"You've had a hard life, haven't you?"

Jesse wanted to tell her to mind her business, but he held his tongue. He said instead, "Children cost money."

"Yes, but I've already told you, they want for a son. And I think all of us would be happy knowing you weren't frozen stiff and starved in a snow bank somewhere." She went back to her ledger, talking to it instead of to him. "But it honestly doesn't make no nevermind to me. I'll take the meat off your hands as thanks for the warm hearth and gladly, but you'll have to do the cutting, I've no mind for that myself."

Jesse hesitated on what he would say next. "I'll… need to borrow a knife."

At his hesitation, she looked up at him and smiled. "You stayed at the hearth in the store all night. You could have run off with just about anything, and you didn't. Dacre'll show you where the knives are."

Jesse beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen. Dacre wasn't there. Turning around, he spotted the staircase; it was tucked in just behind a wall. It was a seep thing, and Jesse found himself clutching the rail as he climbed. He reached the top and looked in; Dacre was on his stomach, reading a book, he was watching the stairs when Jesse's eyes found him. "Yeah?"

"Your… Adelaide said you'd get me a knife?"

Dacre eyed the rabbits, and his expression of caution visibly changed to one of eagerness. "Right." He got up and pressed past Jesse into the narrow stair. In the kitchen, Dacre opened a drawer and let Jesse see inside. Three knives - two obviously meant for vegetables, but the third would do the trick and well. He pulled it out and inspected its edge. Dacre was still eyeing him. "You need help with those?"

Jesse looked at him, thought about it, and said, "Sure."

Out back, Jesse cut and cleaned and sorted. With two bowls from the kitchen - one filled with water, the other salt - it was much cleaner work than in the wild.

They talked as Jesse worked, occasionally asking Dacre to hold the hide back so he could get to the meat without ruining the pelt; usually King's job, she was perfectly content to lay near and watch Dacre critically. Dacre, for his part, wouldn't quit talking now that he'd started. Jesse learned he was twelve, going on thirteen in a couple weeks; he did alright in school, he wasn't the smartest but he wasn't dumb, neither. He'd always wanted to try and hunt something. King eyed Dacre the entire time, but Dacre didn't seem to mind. He asked Jesse about her, and Jesse told him his father had got King for him just before he died, then steered Dacre off onto topics of tracking. He wondered at the absence of Dacre's pa, but decided not to ask.

Once Dacre had taken the bowl of edible meat in to his mother, he and Jesse got rid of the waste by burying it some ways from the house. Out on his own, away from towns, Jesse would have just chucked it.

Dacre was wholly interested in watching Jesse prep the hide for his mother. "Are you going to make leather of it?"

Jesse gave him a funny look, and told him, "If I could do that, I'd run a leather shop. Besides, your ma wants the fur as well as the meat. All I'm doing is preserving the hide so it doesn't rot." Once all the meat and blood and fat had been scraped away from the skin, Jesse had Dacre help him string the hides tight between the branches of the trees. "To dry it out flat." Jesse told him. Then the both of them rubbed salt into the raw skin, "To make them dry faster."

They cleaned up outside before returning to the Shoppe.

Mister Bradbury was already there; Adelaide told Jesse the Bradbury's stayed for supper each night, because it was easier for Missus Bradbury and Adelaide to prepare one meal together, rather than two meals apart.

They had rabbit and beans for supper that night, and Jesse had never tasted anything so wonderful. In the time she'd had, Adelaide had marinated the meat in a sauce of some sort, and baked it dry. It melted on his tongue like butter, and he caught himself actually moaning around every bite. Adelaide, Dacre, and the Bradbury's exchanged glances; mistress Bradbury chuckled lightly behind her hand, and Jesse, red faced, bent his head over his meal and resolved to eat quietly.

Later on, Dacre brought two carrots to King, and though she was wary to take them from him, he left them on the flags and after he'd left they could hear her crunching from the kitchen.

Dacre soon went to bed, and Jesse sat at the cleared table with the adults, nervously keeping his eyes on his hands. Finally, he said, "If I were to live with you… what would be expected of me?"

"The same's any boy." Mister Bradbury said gruffly, though not unkindly, "You'll go to school with Dacre five days, and have one day to do as you like. You'll be polite as you have been to everyone in town."

"I would like you indoors by nightfall, either here or with us." Mistress Bradbury said, gesturing to herself and her husband to indicate 'us.' "Otherwise I'll worry." She smiled.

"And work?"

Mister Bradbury chuckled, "You're welcome to hunt and bring us meat whenever you like - I'm sure Adelaide'll love a steady supply of hides - but you won't be expected to earn your keep until you've reached your majority. By then I'm sure you'll know what you want in the world - same's any boy. Same as Dacre."

Jesse wasn't sure what he meant by that, but he didn't think it important enough to ask for clarification. The answer suited him well enough. "And Kingsley?"

Mistress Bradbury smiled at him, "We understand she's your only family left. We have no desire to separate you from her. However, she is a horse, and she is most certainly not allowed in the house."

Jesse stayed silent.

"She is more than welcome to the barn," Mister Bradbury elaborated, after a moment of tense silence, "we use it now mostly as a store house for my work, but I'm sure our own horse won't mind sharing her stall."

"May I... spend one night a week in the barn with Kingsley?"

Mistress Bradbury looked sharply at her husband, who just shrugged with one shoulder. She looked back to Jesse, who was watching her carefully. "I don't truly see why not…" She was about to ask him why - her mouth had even opened partway - but she realized quickly, to her credit, that Jesse must have slept with King to keep warm when it was just the two of them out in the snow. She really was his only family; it was not enough for him to merely keep her.

"Yes, you may."

And that was that.

Mister and Mistress Bradbury returned home that evening with Jesse and King, Jesse's hand fisted in King's mane as he trailed silently after his new adults.

The snow on the road was packed hard and it was a short trip from Adelaide's to the Bradbury's, who lived just at the edge of the town in a tiny, but homely, cabin. They took Jesse around to the back of the house and showed him the barn.. Avery told him to take his time getting King settled, and when he was done, to come in and she'd show him the house; where he was to sleep, and where the latrine was.

Jesse and King entered the barn silently, their quiet breaths visible in the moonlight. The sound of shifting hay caused their ears to perk, and they caught sight of the Bradbury's horse, Bree. Bree was an older horse, quite past her time of use, but though her coat was mottled and gray with patches of hair missing, she sedately welcomed King to her stall and at the same time somehow managed to ease most of Jesse's worries concerning King. King, for her part, nickered softly as he scratched behind her ears, and only watched as he left the barn, and her, for the house.

He stood for a moment, breathing in the frigged air; staring into the dark recesses of the forest at the edge of the Bradbury's land.

And then he went inside.

---

It took Jesse a little over a week to grow comfortable with it all; it took King less than an hour.

The Bradbury's were people of routine. Breakfast was served with the rise of the sun and eaten just as quick. Then Mr. Bradbury left for his shop in town and Avery set about cleaning up the kitchen. Jesse was told to wake and feed the horses quickly, and he was out of the house before Avery had finished speaking. He brought down hay from the rafters for both horses, fed them both from a bucket filled with lavish oats, and hugged King tightly before promising to be back by the afternoon. He was going to school.

Where Avery thought Jesse might do well with a week or so to adjust, over breakfast Russell told Jesse he didn't see any sense in putting it off, and Jesse had no opinion on the matter one way or the other. So, just as soon as he returned from the barn, Avery handed him a small leather bag and ushered him out the door. The bag held his lunch, she explained, he'd be given his books at school.

Avery explained briefly to the teacher that Jesse's parents had died recently and she and her husband had taken him in. She also explained carefully that he was a very polite boy. The teacher asked him if he had any prior schooling before this. He didn't think Finn's rudimentary schooling was what the teacher had in mind. He had gone to school for a half a year when Finn had tried to settle in to a town that once, but what had been taught to him was long forgotten now, so Jesse shook his head. The teacher handed him a book, directed him to a desk at the back of the room, and told him to wait for his classmates to arrive. Before leaving, Avery told him to go straight to the grocery after classes were finished for the day.

He wasn't sure he liked being told where to be and when, but it wasn't as if he needed to hurry and find shelter, or food, and so he had nothing else to do anyway. So he walked to the back of the classroom, took his seat, placed his bag beneath his chair, and waited for the other children.

As they arrived, each new child gave him a curious look, and Jesse was decidedly uncomfortable by the time he recognized a face. Dacre. Jesse hadn't realized how tense he'd been until Dacre apparently recognized him, too, and veered immediately to sit right next to him. Silence seemed to be expected, and Dacre barely whispered a hello to him in greeting as he sat and thumped his books down on his desk, but this was more than enough for Jesse, who knew, suddenly, he had friend.

He was asked briefly to stand and introduce himself to the class, and then told to sit just as briskly, and the class began.

Not sure if he'd yet begun to learn anything, Jesse was happy to walk with Dacre to Adelaide's and Avery's shoppe at the end of the school day. Dacre talked animatedly about what he'd learned, and also what he thought about their teacher. Jesse was content just to listen, and Dacre was content to keep rambling on. They entered the grocery and Dacre announced their presence with a "We're home, ma!" And Jesse found himself with a kind of happy in his chest.

It was quite the novelty, at first, not to have to worry about rationing their food or finding shelter at night. And then, after a while, it became home.

---

"OMPH! - Dacre!"

Dacre raced out of the schoolhouse, cackling madly, wildly pleased with himself - as usual.

"Dacre Durell! No running in the school yard!"

Jesse picked himself up from the floor, grabbed his book, then tore off after his wayward friend.

"Decanter! - YOU TWO GET BACK HERE RIGHT THIS SECOND!"

Dacre was light on his feet, ridiculously fast for all his sixteen summers, but Jesse's legs were longer, and Dacre barely managed to get as far as the town square when Jesse finally got close enough to snag his collar and yank him to a stop.

"Gurk!" Dacre suddenly found his momentum arrested, and his feet flew out from beneath him, and his back went down, and he landed on Jesse with a flump in a snow pile.

Fighting to get out from under Dacre, Jesse grabbed a handful of loose snow and stuffed it down Dacre's collar. His best move then would have been to run - but Dacre was still sitting on his legs and Jesse couldn't get out of the way when Dacre threw snow at his face. The snow was fresh and fluffy, and exploded in a cloud of white when it hit - not ideal for making snowballs, but fun all the same.

Coughing and spluttering, Jesse wrestled with Dacre until he'd pushed him down into the snow and was happily crushing snow down his coat and into his face. Dacre was laughing and choking and trying to stuff snow down Jesse's pants when a gruff cough froze them both where they were.

Jesse's hand was down the back of Dacre's coat, his other hand holding them both up, and Dacre's hands were in the motion of pulling down Jesse's trousers and holding a fresh glove of snow at the ready - both of them were covered in snow and breathing hard.

The constable just shook his head and walked away.

They watched him across the square and around a corner, then hastily began to climb around each other. They pushed their way out of the pile, and ran off down the street, Jesse in the lead, laughing wildly.

They hit the Shoppe's door simultaneously and pulled it open, shouting in unison, "We're hoooooooome!!" Then Jesse slipped on the flags just outside the door and hit the floor with his chin. Dacre, using Jesse as support, slipped down the frame and landed on Jesse with a cry of surprise.

When they both looked up, they found Adelaide glaring at them from behind a customer who was staring at them both with a look of bewilderment.

"Uh..."

"Dacre, help Jesse up, he's bleeding." Adelaide told them firmly, then turned back to her customer. "Now then, five ounces of flour, was that all?"

"Ahem, yes, yes..."

Red in the face from the run and the embarrassment, Dacre pulled Jesse to his feet, shut the door, and they both slipped off as quietly as they could into the kitchen.

"Ow." Jesse muttered, touching his chin and lips and feeling wetness on his fingertips.

"It's not bad." Dacre said, bringing him a dry cloth. "Just a split lip."

"My chin hurts more." But he was grinning, and Dacre was grinning, and they raced each other out the backdoor and back into the snow.

---

"I'm so full, I'm gonna pop open any minute!" Dacre mimed having his chest explode, and Jesse laughed.

Adelaide and Avery hid their smiles as they cleared away the dishes.

"Oi, Jesse," Dacre sat up and asked suddenly, "Why don't you ever bring us any venisonmeat?"

Jesse's laugh turned into a grin, "Cause you scare all the deer away!"

"Big game usually avoid towns, Dacre." Russell told the boy around his pipe. "Deer, moose, caribou - they all stay to the wilds."

"Oh… You're gonna teach me to shoot when the thaw comes, right, Jesse?"

Jesse was spared answering when Adelaide suddenly pushed a finger roughly into her son's forehead, almost pushing him and his chair over backwards. "No son of mine'll kill a thing till he's old enough to make his way!"

"But ma! That's only one year away! I ought to learn-"

This was a contentious point between mother and son: all Dacre wanted to do was pick up a bow and shoot something, and all Adelaide wanted was for him to not. It wouldn't be a problem if they all didn't rely on Jesse so much to supply them with meat every winter. Dacre just couldn't understand why Jesse could do it and he couldn't - Jesse was a year younger, after all.

Jesse hurried to divert his friend from the familiar tantrum. "Supper was delicious, Adelaide."

Adelaide, mouth open and ready to argue, spun around and fixed him with a broad smile. "Thank you, Jesse. It's refreshing to see a boy enjoying his greens. - Unlike some people." She winked at him, and he grinned. Dacre sulked.

---

The familiar walk back to the Bradbury's homestead was warm for mid-winter, and Jesse followed behind Avery and Russell with a hidden eagerness, for it meant he and King wouldn't spend the night huddling and shivering near to death, again. It was dark already, as was norm al for the time of year, but the lamp that Mr. Bradbury carried lit the path ahead well.

"You'll be sleeping in the barn tonight, Jesse?"

"Yes, Avery." He offered her a pleasant smile.

She sighed. "After four years I'd have thought you'd have grown out of it."

"'Taint no harm in lettin' the boy sleep with his horse." Russell said around his cud.

"I know, it's just so cold in the barn. I worry..."

"We're used to the cold," Jesse said, "And it's warm tonight."

"It is that." Avery smiled up at the stars, still faint in the lingering glow of the sun.

They wished him goodnight and Jesse took the lamp to the barn.

Not disappointing Avery, Jesse continued to spend one night in the barn with King a week. Most days a whinny would startle him - though he was expecting it - and he would be set upon by a very happy-to-see-him filly. He would laugh and endure her licks and nuzzles and rough pushes and butts, before finally relenting, and pulling the expected apple from his coat pocket. King would snap it off his palm and eat it with two sound crunches, nickering happily all the while.

Then they'd go outside and run in circles, wearing themselves down and giving King the exercise she was denied most days. While Jesse was at school, she had to stay in the barn; this wasn't a point on which Jesse wasn't willing to negotiate, and King never tried. Still, it made for some very lonely days. But the stable was warm, Russell always mucked out their stall and brought in fresh hay in the mornings, and Jesse usually always managed to wrangle apples off Adelaide - for meat, of course - which made it up to her fine. And there were the oats, of course; the glorious, juicy oats. And Bree, who was a calm, nurturing companion to her.

Regardless, they both looked forward to the day Jesse had all to himself - they day the two of them left to track game in the forest and pretended it was just them alone again.

Tuckered out, their breath coming in puffs, the siblings would head back into the barn and settle in for the night. Jesse always talked. He talked about the children in the town and the things he learned at school - especially wars that had been fought and about the heroes who'd fought them. He told her about Adelaide's suppers and Dacre's wooden toys. He often confided in her about some of the things he saw or learned, and thought were strange, or wrong - like the witch hunting's they'd learned about in school, and how they were told to avoid witches and tell the authorities if they suspected a woman of being one; yet the town had an apothecary, which was a form of magic often slandered in the same tongue as witches. He was told daily he had a lot of catching up to do, and grumbled about this often. While King could never comment on anything he said, she was always eager to hear it all and more.

Tonight Jesse pushed the door of the barn to, and slipped inside before closing it soundly. There was no familiar whinny; no soft clops on the wooden floor. Tonight he hooked the lamp on the wire above the door, and walked quietly to the stalls. In one of them was piled pitchforks and hay. Tack was slung over the stall walls and old smiting tools were hung on hooks. In the other, Bree, the Bradbury's old horse, slumbered. Nestled into Bree's flank, rising and falling to the rhythm of the old horses' heavy breathing, lay King. Her dark hair spilled over the old saddle blanket she'd wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes fluttered open at his steps.

He stepped past Bree and sat down next to his sister. Taking off his coat he snuggled under the blanket and cuddled up into the warmth that horse and girl had generated, then he flung his coat over the blanket and settled back, King resting into his shoulder. "Did you and Dacre get into trouble again? You didn't come to play today." Her voice, even after so many moons, was still rough and soft. His sister's voice.

"No, we were tagged for cleaning duty, that's all. But then Dacre spilled Missus Laudley's ink bottle and we had to spend more time mopping it all up." King laughed softly. He asked her, "Did Avery come at lunch again?"

"Yes, she let me have a good long run. Bree's getting tired, though, she won't walk with me any more." King turned her watery eyes on the horse slumbering deeply behind them.

"Bree's old, King. It's the way of things."

King nodded.

Jesse opened his mouth, about to tell her about the subtraction he'd learned that day, when he found his chest suddenly tight. Frowning, he bent with the sudden tightness and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly through his nose.

King tilted her head. "Jesse? What's wrong?"

"I'm just... having trouble breathing. Gimme a minute." Jesse concentrated on breathing, on calming himself down. It worked, and he started to ease back against Bree's flank, thinking that that had been a very strange thing.

But then his chest twisted and he doubled over in pain that made the prior attack seem like a tickle. He clenched his teeth and avoided making a sound, though he wanted to. He wanted to scream. It felt like someone had just reached into his chest, grabbed a whole bunch of his insides, and squeezed everything maliciously.

"Jesse!?"


-TBC...

Thank you Kylee, Kei-Chan, animefreak242, and angelkitty7888. You guys rock my socks! - And the mysterious LilMissMushroom who added my story to their favorites list. Thank you for your tacit approval. :D