Anya and her hypothetical questions. Come on, who wouldn't see through that?

But at least Soren got that little detail into her head. Someone who doesn't read as many fairy-related stories as I do might not remember key information about fairies that tends to be extremely important.

We've already — well, I've already — told Katriel and Adalia our names, but I think we're alright there. One, Kat learned Anya's from me shouting at her, not by asking, and two... well, actually... I might be in trouble on that front.

Bit of a hypocrite, aren't you, Lani?

But Soren, unfortunately, does have a very good point about fairy food. I kinda forced Anya to read through a book I brought with me to get the general point across, and while she wasn't happy with me... eh, she can be unhappy.

And under no circumstances are you meant to be rude or offensive in any way. Which is really just common sense, isn't it?

I don't know, of course, if Azaevelum is entirely like the Faerie of my books, but Kat won't say a word about it to either of us.

Names... it comes back to names a lot. We know his name, his sister's name, and Anya called him 'Kat' to his face yesterday without thinking, and with no reaction from him.

At all.

Come to think of it, Kat and Adalia both have feathery wings, which isn't exactly the little-girl-stories of gossamer-like butterfly or dragonfly wings... but Emily Feather's fairies had feathered wings, right? And that had the whole 'fairy food' problem too...

I'm really not sure how significant Soren's warning to Anya might be, but you're always better safe rather than sorry, right?

That's why — at eleven-fifteen, because Anya apparently thinks Soren's thoughts on all of this are law — we're in the kitchen, trying not to make too much noise as we work. Kat, helpful as he is, is watching us dart around collecting this and that and maybe another one of those.

He appears to be alright where he is, though, so we're both letting it slide.

And besides, it's not like he knows where anything is.

"Oh!" Anya gasps as a bottle falls out of the cupboard, crashing to the floor and sending its lid skittering across the tiles... along with several small tablets. She kneels to inspect the bottle itself, and lets out another "oh!" of surprise.

"That's not the medicine cupboard."

"Astute observation there, Lani," Kat quips, but he looks just as confused as I feel.

"It's... what the..."

Do I want an answer?

Frankly... no.

So I turn back to the bag I was trying to pack, and when neither of them are watching me, I add two knives to it.

Just in case, y'know?

~|•

Getting out of the house was too easy, I decide — about halfway to our general destination of the woods. Somehow, it's walking through Terrenfell that provides our problem.

Or problems.

Here's the thing. It's a quiet town, and there's no reason for anyone to be wandering around it at midnight. Maybe the odd person could make sense, but surely a group of six or seven walking down the very street we were about to take is too strange to ignore.

"Let's not go down that street," Anya hisses, twisting her head to look back the way we came. "I think we could turn left where we went straight and still get where we need to go..."

"Are you three alright?"

Kat steps behind me almost on instinct, but I don't think there's any need to. In the darkness, with no moon to light the way, nobody should be able to see his wings. Especially if his back isn't facing them.

The speaker is a kind-looking old woman, and somehow that's putting me more on edge than the group we were deciding to avoid. My head is already filled with every thought of fairy and magic I considered possible, and now it's just... witch? Could she be a witch, trying to lure us into some kind of horrific trap?

"Yes, ma'am, we're alright!" I say brightly enough, and since Anya gives me one of the blankest looks I have ever seen afterwards... well, it was probably not very convincing after that.

"I don't think you're quite right about that..." the woman muttered, glancing down the street. "Particularly not your little fairy friend there."

I didn't see Kat's face blanch, but I know it happened.

"How do you—?"

"Shh, Anya."

Okay. Definitely a witch. But maybe more like a fairy-godmother kind of witch — like in Cinderella, you know? A good witch.

The old woman didn't tell us to follow her, but we all decided it was the best thing we could do.

Anya took the lead, for some reason, and Kat's hand had found its way into my coat pocket (it's a British town, it rains way too often to not have a coat — even if it is August) at some point. He wasn't letting go.

Did I care? Not really.

Her house, I was pleased to see, had one of the nicest names on her street. Grey Meadow Hideaway — also, in my opinion, the witchiest one there.

In other words, it was perfect.

"You don't seem particularly prepared for your adventure," she said matter-of-factly, moving around the cluttered living room with a grace that didn't quite match her age.

"How are we meant to know what qualifies as 'being prepared' for a fairy adventure?" Anya demanded. I half expected her to start stamping her foot. "This just doesn't happen to normal people!"

"Anya!"

"It's alright. No weapons," which she says as she looks directly at me, "no real knowledge of what's going on... even you, Kat. Oh, Azaevelum is a very dangerous place for those who don't know it well, or so I've heard."

"I imagine it will be," Kat says bitterly.

"So... is this like, the cryptic wise-woman-stranger-assists-the-heroes part of the story, or are we about to be murdered?"

"I'd prefer being murdered at this point," Anya sighed, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "It'd be easier for all of us."

"I'd really rather... like, not... die?"

"I can help you, if you wish," the woman said with a small smile, a real smile. "Give me a moment — I'd much rather this stays between the four of us than risk waking my grandchildren."

And she disappeared into what I assumed was the kitchen without making a sound.

"So... am I the only one who thinks she's a... um, veadgian?" Kat asked after we heard the tell-tale creaks of someone walking up the stairs. "Or whatever you call them."

"A... witch, you mean?" Anya asked, to my surprise. "Or is a veadgian something entirely different?"

"Hm. Probably that first thing, yeah, I guess. I just... don't feel like I can trust her, but that must just be instinct." He sighed. "I can't do magic, but I can certainly sense it, and something bad has been done with it here."

"Great, and she's supposedly helping us," Anya snapped, turning on me.

"But I'm pretty sure what she's doing to help us is good, okay?" Kat said quickly. "Just trust me on this. I know what I'm feeling, I know that this won't hurt us."

Anya gave me a pointed look, but before she could open her mouth to speak, the stairs creaked again.

"You'd best hurry up, dears, those people grow bored quite easily," the woman said, the tone too bright for what Kat had said. "I'd suggest not running into them. Girls, take these."

She held out two almost identical bags, except for the handles.

Our names.

Yeah, this was definitely what I thought it was.

"Thank you, ma'am," I said quietly, the only one of us apparently brave enough to speak now. "We'll be careful."

"Yes, yes, of course you will. But, Lani..." She paused, giving Anya — specifically — an appraising look.

"You guys just go, I'll be out in two minutes," I said quickly, and Anya didn't bother arguing.

Alone with the witch, the air seemed almost suffocating, but I forced myself to stay calm.

"Light," she said after a moment — or maybe an hour. I wasn't entirely sure.

"Uh. Yeah. Light. Totally agree with you there."

Whatever she was on about... sure. I wanted out.

"Keep an eye out for Rieta, would you?"

"Rieta? Okay, got it. Promise."

"Your sister is grace, correct?"

"Yeah...?"

This didn't make any sense anymore. Sure, my middle name was Grace, but Anya was Anya Rose.

"Perfect. You can go, now."

Grateful for the chance to leave, I didn't look back as I did so. But closing the door behind me, I felt my hand burn.