(This is the story thus far. It was previously written in a Google Doc)


The day was a typical one in the final week of Heartfire. A typical working day that is, especially adults. But this was not a typical day in the eyes of Phillip. It was the first day that snow had fallen heavily upon Aethlvohl. The excitement of which was much more than he could contain. With a strained grunting, the cold breeze outside met him as the window here in the back of the school house slid open above him. He had taken leave of the building through this avenue a handful of times before, but this time he was doing so in a particular earnest.

After the task of freeing the glass pane from its seal was done, it was only a matter of pulling himself through the opening and onto the approaching branch of the elm tree below. Unlike his escapades previously, his footwork was shaky as he stepped out upon the snow dusted limb. With his trailing shoe only a few inches departed from the security of the windows ledge, the unwilling school boy felt his balance give way and with a single CRUNCH, he landed upon his back in the mound of snow that the groundsman had only just formed an hour prior.

After of moment of blinking and bodily assessment, Phillip lifted his head to spy out any that might have seen the theatrics and foil his wonderful plans for the day.

For yet another year, Bristol’s father had kept her from the social gathering of children who learned from the local scholar. Why would she need to know those significant details that could possibly deter her from her destiny in the graveyard in Wilson’s place?

In any case, Bristol never asked. It was in part because she was too young to realize the significance of such an education, but it was also that she felt - either from stockholm syndrome or fate - she was where she was meant to be. That didn’t require joining the others in schooling.

Thus, naturally Bristol is happily skipping along beneath bundles of furs. Her blonde pigtails bounced at her shoulders with each hop, and the basket in her arms held the purpose of her joywalk. Beneath the blankets was a loaf of bread. It wasn’t fresh. It wasn’t hot. However, it was something and something is always better than nothing.

Upon the crunching of a branch, Bristol let out a quick yelp from surprise. She dropped the basket, the bread rolling out, but this was hardly noticed as she made her way over to the figure who fell. With wide yet dark eyes, she peered at the person, her breath rigid and shaking. “Are you hurt?”

Upon the ground, Phillip felt like crying for a moment -- or perhaps two. He had thought better of it, and it was certainly out of the question now, with a girl about. As most men of nine (and beyond) do, such feelings quickly turned to a visible scowl of anger instead.

“I meant to do that!” he retorted in a huff. The flush of his cheeks was that of a cherry hue as he sat up, blinking a few moments more and continuing to scan the side of the building for grown ups. When the coast seemed clear but a second later, he busied himself with dusting the snow from his short-cut, scruffy, brown hair and fixing his scarf tight around his neck -- all with the same huff of disguising anger.

When the realization that the girl was not going to be content to pass him by set in, he turned to her and his face did poorly at concealing a change to nervous concern. “Wait...who are you, anyway?” The thought was out of his mouth before it even set home in his mind.

"Oh. I'm Bristol, but Fioer calls me Freckles--" In all the commotion, the bread falling out of her basket had fled from her mind; however, looking past the boy now, she fell to her knees in order to collect the few pieces in to the small cloth. Now, they'd be extra cold. That meant her father would be extra grumpy.

With a shake of her head, the thought began to falter. Bristol considered the boy as she slid the basket beneath her furr - a futile attempt at recovering from quite a beating when she got home. For now, there was this boy, and he was certainly up to something. In the small village, there was hardly time for play - let alone others to play with that didn't already know you, your mamas and papas, or if you were on the worse end of gossip, they knew the reasons why they should steer clear. Being the grump of a graveyard caretaker's daughter didn't grant Bristol much of a chance save for the pitiful looks and disgusted glances of all the dirt about her attire. Sure, everyone was poor, but at least they had mothers to do the linens.

"I won't tell." She added, looking past him at the corner he'd just glanced around. "Promise... But you have to take me with you."

She paused a moment for his answer, but then thought better of it, interrupting any opportunity he may have taken to protest -- "I'll meet you right back here before the hour's over."

He had moments to acknowledge his destined fate (decided by hers truly) before Bristol sprinted off to the graveyard, basket in tow.

Just as the mysterious girl rounded a corner out of view, Phillip was on his feet patting off more snow and shaking one of his ankles about just off the ground. For a moment he consider chasing after her. There weren't many people around the sleepy town that he didn't know; but he was sure he never seen her before. The very next moment, he whimsically decided on what seemed a better choice, and turned to run a few paces in the opposite direction of the girl. The last thing he needed was some child ruining his day of fun ahead.

But that blasted curiosity. He stopped after just a couple boyish paces and turned back to look down the path that she had taken. After all, Father had said so often that we must be kind to those that show us kindness. He wasn't going to be able to stop wondering if she would actually come back, so the day would be all but ruined anyway if he were to go on. With the biting of his lip, he looked about stealthily for onlookers again, and started creeping along the buildings side in look for a hiding space.

She had been late, and when you are late and the bread is colder than normal which makes it more stiff than average...

Bristol bit the very cloth that had been used to cover the bread. Her cries were gagged, the tears were silent physical attributes to the pain she acquired for this particular mistake, but her mind was elsewhere. No, she was not here in her father's care being punished. She was running out the door, slamming it in her wake and rolling a barrel to keep it that way. She was pulling her fur off the railing of their porch and throwing it over her shoulders. Bristol was pounding the dirt over graves so hard and fast, the crying outrage of her father over ruined bread was so far gone.

When it stopped, Bristol came back to the reality of more ale bottles than she could count on the bedside table - the one next to the bed that they shared. She pulled down her ratty dress shirt and tied back up her pants over the battle wounds - something she'd someday acquire from being out in the world on an adventure.

An adventure like the one waiting for her.

"I am so sorry, papa." The tears that rolled this time were for the part she had to play to get out. "You can have it all. I'll go, then.."

"You might as well stay out there! Tell me how the cold weather turns your skin so that you may better understand what it does to soiled bread!" A broken bottle hit the door behind her.

In hindsight, Bristol would cry over the locked door, but for now.. Her illusion became a reality. Out the door she went, past the gravestones and every dead soul who witnessed whom she called family in the place she called home every day since they arrived as caretaker of Aethlvohl's grave grounds.

Bristol rounded the corner to the small clearing behind the building - the place she'd met him before. She didn't see him now, though. Where had he gone? Had he left? Was he hiding? Maybe he didn't think she was serious. Suddenly, what she had to go back to rounded on her and her decision making skills as a young girl. She bit her lip, pulling on her pigtails to cover her ears against the cold. She called out to no one, "You didn't leave, too.. Did you?" She had tried to be there on time. She really had.

It was bloody well time. If patience was a skill he would need later in life, it certainly was being tested here in the cold snow of his ninth winter. He had already picked the bark clean along the trunk of the bush beneath which he now sat. It served as some sort of decorative edging at one end of a low stone wall winding upon the edges of the school ground. It was from behind this wall that Phillip had now strained his neck upward to peer over for what seemed the millionth billionth time, looking for the girls return.

At last, now she had come. He was certain that his plan would go without a hitch now, and he had seen her without her seeing him in return. As she rounded the corner he was quick to duck his head away, and begin the short crawl back along the wall to retreat from his bushy hiding place. Being sure he was the most guileful version of himself he moved swiftly back towards the courtyard and tried to work himself as near to her back as he could. With the threat of her up and leaving a possibility, he hurried himself to leap forward a bit clumsily with an excited: "Gotcha!!" With this, he tried his very best to "tag" the younger child upon the shoulder without giving himself away. His lips began to curl in laughter even before the results of such adolescent greeting was to be witnessed.

Her eyes warmed more than a fire, turning around on her heels to greet the curled prankster. "Ahaha. You got me." She placed her hands on her hips, eyebrow raised with a cocked head swing.

"So, what were you going to do?" She folded her arms with the question. "You're obviously skipping out on someone - or something."

Bristol walked over to him and stretched out her hand, fingers wiggling at him tauntingly. "Come on, I'll help you up. Whatever it is, your secret is safe with me. I just wanna get out of here for a little while. Maybe we could find a cave! Oooooh, maybe there will be trolls in it! Do you think they exist, cave trolls?"

Her eyes, ones that should register fear for her size, saw the illusion of what she didn't know of how vicious such beings could be, let alone that they existed in a very real, harsh way. In her illusion, the trolls weren't that tall, had claws that weren't that sharp, and could be wrestled down if it were one of them against the two kids. That is, if what she thought were true.

She looked expectantly at the boy. "By the way, you never told me your name."

He bounced to his feet with a small tug on her extended arm and looked at her questioningly. "You're weird." He stated simply. "Come on. We've been around here too long...I already had to duck the Headmaster twice." He ducked past her and began another swift sprint, trying not to make his steps too loud upon the snow with exaggeratedly long steps and his hands wide at his sides. As he reached the corner of the wall he peered around it to the main road through town, then looked back at her just a few feet away. "I'm not gonna get eaten by trolls, but I gotta get out of here too. C'mon.....I'm Phillip."

With that he extended his own hand towards her and motioned her to follow.

"Phillip is a nice name." She commented, because that was the polite thing to do. She gave him a smile that offered one of her proudest moments: losing one of her last teeth. With freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and nose, the rose color of the cold nipping at her made it appear like they were more of a rash than adornments from her mother's family.

With his hand in hers, she tried to keep up with his pace of speed, whispering until they reached a safer location from the village. "Why do you gotta leave?"

The route and pace he took would seem sporadic and nonsensical to any but him had they cared to make such an observation. But in his own mind it was a carefully orchestrated work of genius. He had made the journey before, but each time seemed a little more dangerous. Avoiding all detection by "grown ups" that wouldn't recognize him was no small feat to his mind. The bigger fear of course being detection by his father directly, or those that would be speaking to him that day.

But they were close now. Near enough to the outer wall and docks that traffic was all but scarce. "It's the first snow! I've already done my studies for the day...I don't see why I have to be there."He said in a defensive, hushed tone This was of course probably unnecessary to defend to the girl, but he was still in need to justify the action in his own mind.

As they rounded a final turn, he released her hand to crouch down on all fours. One of the docks which was raised above the waters edge appeared to have seen several long years of disrepair. With an effortless push, Phillip slipped in between a loose pairing of boards and over to the outside world. He took a quick scan of the looming forest which he now faced unobstructed, and turned back to hold the boards open and offer his companion a hand through.

She followed him closely, and her life did in fact depend on it. She'd never been outside on this side of the town, let alone without an adult to accompany and protect her. She hadn't realized when his hand had fallen from her own, but it was quickly replaced with random assortments of findings. Great discoveries were being made!

"Hey! I found a stick!" SHe grinned toothily, holding the crooked branch upward.

A few minutes later, she held up a smooth, dark stone. "Hey, I found a dark jewel, maybe!"

"I found a patch of ground that isn't covered by snow!"

"Hey, did you see that bird? It was BAH-LOO!"

Clearly, being silent and stealthy wasn't yet in her bones. Finally, when he offered her a hand once more to help her through, she grinned sheepishly. Once through, she cleared her throat. "Do you come out here often? You sure know your way around."

After his care-free follower crossed the wall behind him, Phillip couched once more to scan all of the surrounding about them. In his own mind, this was just as much about spying out grown-ups than anything of actual, life-threatening concern. For all he could tell, the only things that laid before them were silent trees and mounds of all that glorious snow.

"Don't be so loud!" he said in the hushed sincerity of adolescent rule benders. "What should we do?" he bit his lip and narrowed his eyes in a look towards a farming pasture a couple hundred yards off. "...Do you wanna build a snowman?"