Who: Marissa MacFusty
What: ???
Where: MacFusty homestead, this morning
Status: Complete narrative

She was never the first one out to the barn where the owls stayed in the mornings. She never picked up the post from the large crate that the birds were trained to fly to, because sleeping well into the early morning was one of the only things that she liked about her job some days and she refused to give that up for anything.

Until a week ago.

Exactly a week yesterday Jinty hadn't come in for supper, hadn't come in later. She hadn't come in at all, and her parents had insisted to her that they call the authorities and not her 'special friends'. She bent to their will because she always did when it came down to it, because she couldn't upset them further. Not right now. Nobody knew - not Sturgis, not James, nobody from the Order - they all had their own problems to deal with right now. This was hers.

She had her reasons, and she was up early enough that not even her parents had probably noticed yet. Everything smelled damp in the early morning air, water brought in from the sea during the day and sent down onto the grass late in the evening, when things got cooler. It was almost cool enough that she was regretting not bringing something to cover her bare arms with.

She opened the door of the barn and winced at the creaking - it seemed too loud even if she knew the house was far too distant for her mother or father to hear anything. Her eyes snapped to the crate in the far corner of the room and she took a breath, stepping over to it with determination.

Inside was a box, the edges a dry red-brown. Marissa's mouth went dry and she turned her face away from the crate, heaving out a hard breath and feeling her eyes start to burn. It took her one, two, three tries to finally pick up the parcel. It felt impossibly light in her hands.

Maybe it was empty.

A threat. An empty threat.

A warning.

She couldn't open it here. At any moment her father could step in with his well-worn boots and dirty trousers, ask her what was in the mail. She hurried to the door and let it shut again, closing the latch. When she steadied herself again she started up the nearest hill, eyes on the horizon. She could see the distant forms through the fog, the creatures she'd grown up with. She walked until she could see them clearly and then sat in the wet grass, feeling it chill her skin as it brushed against her bare knees.

She looked down, blinking. She'd dropped the package and it had fallen open. Something stark and white had rolled out, a familiar shape she'd caught out of the corner of her eye but hadn't been able to identify. Out of habit she reached down, picked up the tiny ...



No. Nonononono.



... hand.

Of course they didn't have limits. Of course they wouldn't take pity on a child.

She peeled the bit of parchment plastered to the hand off with trembling fingers.

She wouldn't talk. Just like big sister.

Now she can be even more like you.

She clenched her jaw until she was sure that her teeth were going to crack and fracture underneath the pressure. How dare they. How DARE they.

She was going to find someone responsible for this and they were going to suffer.