I heard the news today, oh boy.

The light of morning against his eyes wasn't always the only thing to wake Tic. It could be a sound, a shift in temperature, or a dream. But tonight it had been neither. Movement had awoken him this time, the movement of something light nestling into the bed behind him. It opened his eyes to darkness, but did not stir his repose. He stared dimly for a few moments toward the darkened wall, trying to recall the dream that had been interrupted. In it, him, his father, and his family were safe at last; they lived in a world where the tyranny had ended and peace was the only demand. He sighed; he hated waking to the realization that some things could only be found in dreams.

His body ached with the weight of sleep, so he turned himself gently, carefully, to face the other side. To come upon another face, lying across from him with its eyes closed, its skin bright and its lips silent. He watched the face thoughtfully, examining its features as if to make sure it was real. The scar that ran down its left eye intrigued him. He had always wondered when, why, how did it get there? But the tire in him drew his thoughts gently away. He closed his eyes, and allowed his mind to once again slip into the arms of sleep.

The next time he awoke, morning light had already bathed the room in pale grey. He rose quietly, only to find that Miraye was gone from the bed. He ran a hand through his hair and searched for the clothes he had bought, no, received, yesterday. He found them in a pile at the side of the bed, grabbed them and headed for the bathroom.

Before thinking to knock, he opened the door to find the girl, undressed and soaking in the bathtub. After a moment of quick embarrassment, he muttered an apology and hastenly shut the door. He dressed himself quickly, deciding it would be much safer to change outside.

After pulling on his boots, Miraye appeared from the bathroom fully dressed. She approached Tic with a heedful expression.

"Could you do me a favor?" she said. She hadn't put her jacket on yet, and the corset shown around her waist. She turned so that her side was to Tic. "Tighten the laces, will you?"

He didn't react immediately, but raised his fingers and did as she said. She smiled and thanked him, took her jacket, and they both headed down to the pub.

Downstairs, they proceeded with the routines of the tavern, having mastered it within just a few days. The monotony of it, however, left Tic to worry about other, larger things. They had gotten new clothes, new shoes, and were now gaining money rather than paying off. They would be prepared, or were already, to make their journey to The Sink soon. He didn't think it would take very long to get there; he knew most of the locations of the hidden moleholes in the forests and would surely be able to find one. But he was anxious. The longer they had to stay at the tavern, the more time it gave for them to get caught. He didn't know what extremes the Shrike would take looking for him, but he knew better than to think that Larkin had given up.

The morning passed without a hitch, but slowly. The only thing he could do other than the tavern work was listen to the conversations of the customers. Some spoke of their wives, some spoke of the weather, some didn't speak at all. It was the only interesting part of the job, and currently his only way to hear about what was going on outside. He kept an ear out for any news on Larkin, The Sink, or Guardians passing through the town. He was sure Miraye did the same, though there hadn't been any valuable news yet. And though the town seemed safe, they also needed to be careful about when and who they spoke to. A single wrong word could have them sent straight back to the castle. He didn't believe they would ever be safe until they were with The Sink.

When noontime came, Gaston let them take a break. He provided them with food and drink, and didn't even take the tab out of their payment. Tic was surprised at the man's hospitality. Especially after the fact that he knew that they were on the run from the Guardians. If they were ever caught, Gaston may as well take the penalty for housing two fugitives. Yet he continued to tolerate their presence. Something about him even told Tic he knew more about them than he should. Although, it would be hard to ignore it when two kids come into your tavern, their clothes ruined and stained with blood.

Soon after the break, they returned to work to serve the deluge of lunch-hour costumers. Tic settled with the tasks of washing, cleaning and sweeping while Miraye helped Gaston serve out drinks and rations. The chatter amongst the patrons was at its usual, as if no one was aware of the massacre that took place, or the war that would. The lives of the townspeople seemed to continue on peacefully, and after all he had been through, Tic envied them for that. They didn't know what had happened, how much Tic was worth or what Miraye had done. And Tic hoped it would stay that way.

Like any other time the door swung open, someone walked in and took a seat somewhere within the confines of the tavern. This time they took off their hat and sat on a stool at the counter, calling for the bartender by name. Gaston smiled and greeted him like an old friend, asking how he was doing, where he's been. The man looked about Gaston's age, Tic saw, with dark hair and a short goatee. Gaston passed him a cup of something golden and he began to speak.

"I been out of town, Gaston," he said, almost sternly.

"Whereabouts?" asked Gaston.

"Took a visit to Lutney see the family."

"How was it?"

"It woulda been just swell if I 'adn't passed through Arston Creeks on the way back. That place is a mess."

"Why? What happened?"

"Burned, most all of it. Straight to the ground."

Gaston paused for a moment in surprise. Then, "Burned? How did that happen? It's a quiet town. The rebels don't go after towns like that."

"It weren't no rebels, Gaston." The man took a sip from his drink, and looked up. He leaned towards Gaston, as if to talk in secret."'Twas the Guardians. They was looking for someone."

Gaston leaned in closer. "Who?"

"A rebel. Some kid," he said simply.

Tic's heart stopped. His hands ceased their movement and he lifted his eyes, frozen to the spot.

"They burned the entire town jus' for some worthless boy," the man continued. "It's a pity, you know. He should jus' turn 'imself in before any of this stuff continues, if he knows what's right."

Tic felt himself lose grip of the mug too late to catch it. It fell from his hands into the sink, creating a pang of glass against metal. The sound surprised him and his hands scrambled to pick it up again. He could feel both men's glances on him as he resumed washing it.

After a few moments, Gaston asked the man, "Is there a reward?"

"Not that I know of. I reckon, they get the boy and the burnin's stop. That's the reward."

The man seemed to go silent after that. Gaston tended to another customer that sat close to Tic. Tic stared fixedly into his hands, not even daring a glance to Gaston as the man neared.

He felt like his heart had plummeted straight through him. The memory of the priests came back to him, Kein's voice ringing in his head, "All will perish in the flames! The burning shall reign!" and he felt it echo, ringing louder now, as if becoming real, as if the world was set on fire and all he could hear was the screaming, burning cries of the innocent, and he couldn't do anything, he could only watch as they perished in the flames, and it was his fault, all his fault, and it was hot, so hot around him as he only stood on and watched the explosions of flames, enveloping, burning, killing, ripping away the flesh –

"Tic? You're bleeding," a voice said, out of everything.

Miraye was standing across from him at the counter.

He gazed at her for a moment, then lifted a hand to beneath his nose. He tested the substance, and looked down, staring at the red spots that graced his fingertips.