the coldest winter | morgan

[JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE]

After getting the cast on his wrist removed, Joshua was relieved to be able to function somewhat normally despite the still-healing injuries. He could flex his hand, he could put on a shirt without taking incredibly long to do so, and he could drive, which was probably the best part. He hadn't completely given up driving for the sake of the cast despite being advised to do so by his doctor—the Fire graduate was far too proud for that. No, instead he'd simply tried to avoid driving if it was possible. It was only when he had a choice between walking a long distance, getting a ride from a friend or sucking up his concerns and getting into the car that he risked the danger. Well, I didn't get myself into any accidents. He felt rather smug as he ran his left hand over the injured wrist, inspecting the area with a frown. It didn't look much different to how it had before and while there was still a dull and throbbing pain he'd take what he could get. If only my damn ribs would heal as quickly. It still hurt to cough, to sneeze... heck, even breathing in too deep had him cringing. He hated the constant feeling of weakness. He was not at his best and he knew it. The only thing he could do was try to conceal these weaknesses from others. Easier said than done. Every time he flinched or winced in pain he would curse himself and hope that whoever he was with took no notice. They usually did. As it turned out, it was rather easy to tell if someone was in pain by the contortion of their expression and the way they tensed their muscles and clenched their jaw. It sucked.

He got into the white Aventador and pulled out of the driveway, having no need for the GPS system as he followed the familiar streets through Maple Hollow. He had grown up here and he was convinced he knew nearly every inch of the city by heart. He could not recall every shop and every street name but he at least knew what he was doing when going from one place to the next. Rather than being focused on street signs and turns, however, Joshua found himself frequently glancing into the rearview mirror. Every car that turned onto the same street was suspicious. Every person walking along the city sidewalks could be one of them. His paranoia about the mob had reached almost unbearable levels. The worst was that he knew Nell could do nothing about it. He had tried to confront her about Jane, about how cornering her aunt had obviously caused the woman to act, but it had turned out to be a lost cause. There was nothing either of them could do. So now his gray eyes flicked to the mirrors often, taking the long ways where possible in an attempt to figure out if he was, in fact, being followed. It was only when the last navy blue van did not tail him in a turn down an obscure side street that he allowed himself to breathe. You're a mess, he told himself sternly. He knew the paranoia was unhealthy but he also knew that it was entirely justified. He'd been followed before. They'd followed him the first time when they'd attacked him up in the mountains. They'd followed him a second time when he'd been taking a cab home. He didn't want to let them get the better of him again.

He was on his way to the library, a typical destination of the bookish Fire, but a skin-crawling sensation on the back of his neck told him that he should take a detour. Go somewhere else first, a part of the city a little less crowded. It was a strip mall that caught his attention first, a couple of restaurants and a grocery store along with a Staples. There was nothing that really caught his eye but it was better than nothing and so he pulled into the parking lot after a red and battered car that he spent a few minutes trying to figure out if he'd seen before. Had it been on another street he was on? It's in front of you, they had no idea you were going to turn. You're losing it. He released a shaky breath and pulled into a parking spot before dropping his hands from the wheel and inhaling deeply. He didn't like the way his heart raced and his hands shook. He was on the verge of a panic attack, stomach knotting up and a sick sort of feeling clawing at him from the inside. He was not a man often consumed by his panic. In fact, it was only recently that he truly realised how horrible it was. He'd always feared firearms and deep water but those things were easily avoided. He feared failure, as well, but that sort of anxiety was not out of the ordinary. This... this was a nightmare. He got out of the car and made sure to lock all of the doors before heading in the direction of the grocery store. He had to look like he was here for something, just in case. Are we out of milk? It frightened him that he couldn't remember. His memory was usually sharper than a blade. Maybe... maybe not. Can't hurt to get more, can it? Anything to give him a direction.

[MORGAN JANE FARREN]

upon that hill across the blue lake

It was a beautiful day. Morgan strolled down the street, one hand full of grocery bags – the other holding on tight to a little girl’s fingers. Emmaline skipped and hopped, making sure her feet didn’t touch the cracks – lest she break her dear mother’s back. The sky was alight with the sun, a pleasant warmth on their backs despite the chill in the air. For once, Morgan was alone with her little girl. Usually, Emmaline would have been at home – likely with Nell. Incredible as it was, Morgan had managed to find a babysitter that fit all of her requirements, a babysitter and a friend. It hadn’t been easy. But this Nell was only temporary. She was an Earth, one of the graduates at the Academy. Morgan had thought it might be nice for Emmaline to have a girl around, someone other than her immediate family. Morgan smiled, imagining Emmaline back at home with the temporary babysitter. Morgan referred to the girl as the “temporary” babysitter because she had someone better in mind. If things worked out the way she desired, hopefully Emmaline would never need a babysitter again. Morgan would be home, would be a good mother – not one of those neglectful teenagers. She was responsible.

Morgan paused in front of one of the shops, peering in at clothing and toys lined up at the windows. Now that she had this time, free to do what she liked with her daughter, she wasn’t sure what she would do with it. She didn’t exactly have friends. She had simply been too busy to make any, that and she didn’t particularly like people. And all the people he knew (that he desired to associate with) were warned heavily away by her aggressive demeanor. Morgan pushed the thoughts away and glanced up at the store name. It appeared to be clothing. She shrugged and went in, looking around at what the shop had to offer. There were stacks of shirts and pants, shoes and socks and the like. She walked through the aisle, perusing the goods available. Emmaline skipped around, darting in and out of racks of dresses and overcoats. Most was of no interest to her. She had never liked those tight V-necks all the kids seemed to be wearing. She was really more of a classic button-up shirt kind of gal, preppy dresses and such. She liked to think she was classy, whether that was entirely true or not. Morgan strolled, perfectly happy to do nothing at all but enjoy the solitude she so rarely got, Emmaline’s delighted shrieks. Something in particular caught her eye. She wandered over towards a rack of jackets. They weren’t leather like biker leather, but something else. She looked at them with amusement, flipping through the hangers until she found one her size. She slipped it over her shoulders, moving around to see how it fit. She was quite pleased with it actually and made her way to the counter to pay. Money changed hands and soon she was walking back down the street again with a plastic bag in hand, clunking along with the groceries. She looked around herself as she walked, observing the people around her with interest.

Emmaline carried in her small fingers a miniature bag. In it she had packed an orange and a bag of skittles from the grocery store. She was quite proud of herself, insistent that she would help her mother with the groceries. She skipped along, her tiny warm fingers encircling Morgan’s. “Bus?” Morgan smiled and nodded, somewhat absentmindedly. Emmaline had a fascination with the bus, something about the way the landscape just swooshed by. Morgan adjust the bags, her arm beginning to ache. She would have liked to space them out, perhaps divide them between her two hands. But she would never risk letting go of Emmaline. She never knew where the little girl would wander off to – or towards whom. Morgan was naturally suspicious, simply by nature. And she had absolutely no desire for some stranger to take an interest in her baby girl. Her grip tightened slightly on Emmaline’s fingers as she glanced around, noting the people who walked the streets of Maple Hollow.

[JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE]

He didn't like the feeling of tension as he walked through the aisles of the grocery store, forever wrought with the desire to glance over his shoulder or stop to wait and see if the man behind him would keep going down another lane. It wasn't the way he'd wanted to spend his day at all. He still had the library books in a bag that he carried and he hoped that no one thought that he was in the store to steal. He'd been the dodgy sort in youth but he'd long since straightened up his act and he liked to consider himself to be a decent member of society, nothing like the people who had him so petrified. It's a grocery store, idiot, no one's following you. He still couldn't remember the contents of his own fridge as well as he'd have preferred so he found himself wandering up and down a single aisle for a moment, wondering what on Earth he should be buying. They could never have enough food in their house with how fast they went through it but he didn't want to raise any alarms by purchasing something they'd only just bought. He was trying to hide his flustered state from Nell. After the panicked confrontation about Jane and the mob he had promised himself not to reveal any kind of weakness like that again. He loved her and trusted her but there was nothing she could do about any of this and so it wasn't worth worrying her all the more. He even neglected to tell her when he thought that people were tailing him sometimes because he was so on edge that he couldn't always be sure that they actually were. It felt like he was losing his mind some days.

He ended up back on the streets with only the milk that he'd talked himself into buying as well as a tub of ice cream, thankfully remembering that Annabel had ate the last of that on him and assuring himself that it was not going to melt easily in such frigid weather. Melting wouldn't be a problem if he was planning to go straight home but he still needed to stop by the library and he felt too spooked to return to the mansion right now. He didn't even get into his car right away, instead walking down one of the streets and wondering if he should visit another one of the shops in the strip mall for good measure. He wished it had a bookstore of some description for he could certainly do with something new to read and it was one of the few places that he could lose hours in without a care in the world. He was contemplating the Staples and whether or not he would need anything from in there when he noticed someone a little ways down the sidewalk hand in hand with a little girl he at first assumed to be their child. It was when he stepped off to the side to make sure they could get by him as he paused and considered his surroundings that they drew closer and he was able to recognise them as people he knew. And the little girl was not the child of the woman she walked with (not to his knowledge) but her little sister. "Morgan." His tone was not unpleasant. Perhaps a bit surprised, not expecting to run into a familiar face out here, but not rude or unwelcoming. The woman could be rather frigid at times but she was a friend of Nell's and he'd given her enough of a chance to find out that she wasn't all that bad.

Her sister certainly helped to soften her image, the little girl clutching a grocery bag in her hand and looking all kinds of adorable. Joshua liked kids a lot more than he let on sometimes and his expression was warm and amiable as he turned it on her. "Hello Emmy." Perhaps it was the innocence of a child that made him so susceptible to their charm. They had not yet grown up enough to be exposed to most of the horrors in the world and so they lacked filters and deeper layers. What you saw on the surface and what came out of their tiny mouths was what you were getting. He remembered a time when his own little sister had been like that and his lip twitched fondly at the memory. "I didn't expect to see you out here. Looks like we had the same idea in mind." He lifted his hand ever so slightly so that the grocery store's label was visible on the bag. "Is your home all that far? It seems a cold day for a walk." He might have seemed like a bit of a hypocrite when he was standing out here as well but his car was still parked in the grocery store's lot. He'd go back to it soon enough, never one to leave such an expensive ride sitting in a public parking area. He didn't trust people. He had long since been dragged from the innocence of youth. Earlier than most, even. "I'd offer a ride but sports cars aren't exactly built for company." The Aventador only seated two. It was flashy, fancy, he loved it, but it wasn't the type of car you raised a family with. Not to say he was getting rid of it when he had a family, mind.

[MORGAN JANE FARREN]

upon that hill across the blue lake

Emmy skipped around her mother, swinging her miniature grocery bag from her fingers – round and round in circles. She was three. The world was too large to imagine, too big to quantify. Every experience was something new – impossible to remember the next day. She had a hundred and one things to see, to laugh at and smile for. She was babbling on as she skipped along with her mother, talking about this and that. Her voice was high, her words occasionally mispronounced. Everything was repeated at least twice, in stumbling toddler talk. She had a wide vocabulary – wider than the average three-year old. But that was mostly due to her grandmother – Morgan’s mother Jessamine. The woman adored nothing more than sitting with her granddaughter, watching old documentaries. The little girl would nod sagely, faking that she understood even a word of what her grandmother said. But she gained one advantage, a great conceptualization – socializing. She had yet to enter preschool, or any other kind of school along with peers of her own age. Morgan was loathe to allow her little girl into the public world, away from her watchful eye. There were too many secrets to tell – things to learn. And how could Morgan explain why the other little girls’ daddies picked them up, and that Emmaline had no daddy to call her own?

“I want to wrap gramma’s present.” She stated it loudly, firmly. She held up her bag for emphasis. Besides groceries, Morgan had taken Emmaline out to get presents. Of course all the little girl did was point at things she thought her auntie and grandma and grandpa would like. Morgan did all the buying. The gifts would be from the two of them, but Emmaline loved picking them out. “I want to wrap it all by myself.” Morgan chuckled, some of the constant bitterness and anger absent from her features. She was relaxed, genuine and happy. She took her daughter’s hand, laughing again. “All by yourself? How about you let mommy cut the paper, but you can choose all the colors yourself?” Emmaline pondered this for a moment, her features serious – as if she might actually reject the idea. She was a sensible little girl, unusually aware of her surroundings. It could get quite perturbing, especially for those not used to her observant blunt nature. It was something she’d inherited from her mother.

“Okay. Will Nell be coming too? We forgot to buy her a present Mommy!” The little girl seemed suddenly quite concerned. Morgan gave her a stern look. The little girl immediately corrected herself. “I meant Mrs. Dale,” She mumbled the words. Morgan had insisted on formality between the little girl and Nell. She wanted her daughter growing up with proper manners, a sense of respect for adults. That was one of the things about Nell though – she seemed determined to undermine some of her stricter rules. Morgan soothed the little girl. “We’ll come back later and get a gift for Mrs. Dale, sweetheart.” She turned, smiling down at the little girl. Some of her loose dark curls had escaped from her hat, blowing about her face. Morgan paused, kneeling to adjust the hat, giving Emmaline a quick tickle as she did so. The little girl howled, screeching with laughter and delight. Morgan planted a swift kiss on her daughter’s forehead. Such affection, such gentle tenderness, was rare from Morgan. She was reclusive, bitter and standoffish by nature – with everyone but her immediate family. And slightly less so with Nell. But with Emmaline, it was as if that was negated, even in public. She was willing to stretch her boundaries just slightly.

She froze as she heard her name. She straightened abruptly, the grin and love melting from her face to be replaced by suspicious annoyance. She recognized the voice, as well as the tussled dark hair of Nell’s husband. In all honesty, the man intimidated her. He was a graduate, renowned for his ease and control – as well as his status as a traitor. He had a rough look about him, like he wouldn’t blink at asserting himself where necessary. Morgan was civil to him, held back her biting bitchy remarks. The added presence of her daughter kept her respectful and careful with her words. “Mr. Dale,” She greeted him with an insecure nod of her head. Emmy looked up at him, grinning her childish grin. She slipped her hand from her mother’s just long enough to wave enthusiastically up at him and pipe out politely – “Hello Mr. Dale!” Morgan took her daughter’s hand again, clearing her voice uncomfortably. She shook her head quickly. “The walk does us good. And we’ll be taking the bus.” Her slight intimidation of the man, that and her relationship with Nell, impelled her towards politeness. “I trust you and your wife are enjoying your holidays.” The words were awkward, misplaced on her tongue.

[JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE]

He had never really witnessed Morgan's affection toward her little sister in such purity before. The woman was so guarded that he was lucky if he could read much on her face at all, not that this bothered him. Joshua was as secretive as they come and so he respected the right that others had to their own privacy. He did not know much about Morgan and she didn't know much about him. It was a fair trade-off in his opinion. He'd been wary of her in the beginning when his wife had first started babysitting for Emmaline but the courtesy that they exchanged and the manners that were upheld between the two Fires instilled enough trust in Joshua that he could say he did not despise her. Nell liked her and while he did not deny to himself that the Earth elemental didn't always have the best taste in people when it came to those who would use her for their own gain, Morgan didn't seem to be like that. All the same, she was cold. So to see her smiling and pressing her lips against her sister's forehead was oddly touching. He had a soft spot in his heart for children and so to see anyone treat them with love and kindness took down one of the walls that he would normally have up. It was not to say that it would make him think the sun shone out of their ass or that they had no faults but it certainly made him a little more willing to believe that Morgan had a softer side that she reserved for her sister. And that was good, in his eyes. Every kid deserved a loving family.

He witnessed the softness melt faster than an ice cube on a hot day when he called her name, saw the way her expression shifted back into one that he was more familiar with. It did not bother him all that much. Morgan had never been outright rude to him and he had no reason to treat her unkindly. "It's Joshua," he said with a twitch of his lip, mostly to assure her that he didn't mind a lack of formality. "Or Josh, if you prefer." Joshua always sounded proper, like something his parents would call him if he was being lectured about something. Most of his friends called him Josh. He didn't really have any nicknames beyond that, barring Ioku from Lark and Joshy, which only Annabel was allowed to use. Lark had called him 'J' in their childhood and he hadn't minded that, either. But it was usually Joshua. Being called Mr. Dale felt like someone addressing his father. He still wasn't used to it. Emmaline was the picture of childhood sweetness, raising her little hand in a wave. His expression softened for a moment as he lifted his hand in a brief return of the gesture. He was not ashamed to stoop down to the level of a child if there was one in the room. They enjoyed having adults around that indulged them. He wanted kids of his own one day. He wanted to feel that rush of emotion for one of his own. Someday he would.

The woman seemed a little bit on edge, like the situation put her off, but Joshua tried not to let that affect him. They didn't know one another all that well and so he wasn't going to hold it against her in any way. "Ah, I see." He barely paused before he found himself making a split second decision and continuing, "Is it far from here? I could always keep you company for the walk. I'm in no rush to be anywhere." Though he didn't mind Morgan, his motivation had more to do with his desire to stall for as much time as possible than to keep up a constant babble. If they were better acquainted he might have made the request without any ulterior motive but Josh did not yet feel that Morgan was comfortable enough with him for casual chit-chat. She was polite, though, inquiring about he and Nell and how they were handling the holidays. He sub-consciously twisted the wedding ring around his finger with a gentle expression. "We are, thank you. It's certainly been nice to catch a break." His intelligence was no secret to any who knew him well but even a man like Josh appreciated a reprieve every now and again. If he pushed his limits too much he'd end up with nothing more than a headache. "And you and your family?" He'd never met her parents, only Morgan and her little sister Emmy, but he figured it was decent courtesy to ask, anyway. It might have been pleasantries but that didn't mean they were entirely insincere.

[MORGAN JANE FARREN]

upon that hill across the blue lake

Morgan stuck her hands in her pockets, shivering. She had a coat wrapped around her shoulders, but it did nothing to ease the chill that crept its way along her spine. It was moments like these that she envied the Fires, the more powerful ones. Her lip turned down slightly. Her own prejudice against the Fires had nothing to do with the apparent war between the elements, after all she was a Fire. She was simply jealous – bitter over where she should have been in her studies, and thus had a dislike for the people that could control it, summon it at will. Though she supposed she was bound to hate them anyways. All the elements seemed to have picked sides, Thunder and Fire on one, Earth and Water on another. She wasn’t quite sure where Wind stood. Morgan knew she should hate the Waters and Earths like bitter enemies, but she just couldn’t muster the anger individually. In all honesty, she hated everyone. For the rest of The Academy, it was natural. It was like second nature. But Morgan was a new arrival, only having just recently settled in to her new school after Emmaline’s birth. She knew almost nothing about the other elementals, barely enough about herself. Sure, some of her fellow Fires had tried to connect with her, had tried to include her in causing various small mayhem, but she just couldn’t muster the interest. If they all hated each other so much, why not go to separate schools? Or just plain leave each other alone? Morgan had considered raising these opinions, but from the way her peers talked, she doubted she would be met with support. So Morgan kept quiet, she bitched and snarled, threw in a random phrase about this and that, just enough to keep from being drawn inside. It was funny, ironic even. That was the goal of humanity wasn’t it, to avoid being the one left on the outside?

Morgan noticed, for the first time, the scar running down Joshua’s face. Morgan made no facial reaction, though her left hand twitched subtly towards her chest. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, react to the more powerful man’s facial scarring. In this area, Morgan understood Joshua perhaps better than anyone. Though easier to hide than Joshua’s facial scar, Morgan had her own. Her lip twitched, thinking of the jagged raised skin under her shirt, one of the few traces of her pregnancy. Her own scar spanned across her stomach, massive and twisted and repellent. Morgan pushed the images away, though they weren’t easy to keep away when the image stared her in the face every time she changed her clothing. But she ignored it as best she could. Her bedroom was almost devoid of mirrors, curtains hung from the windows. She had covered every reflective surface possible, though had attempted to make it subtle. The last thing she needed was peering eyes and suspicious questions. It wasn’t that she thought people would reject her, she had good reasons, but she had no desire for their pity, to be the “woman with that huge scar”. Plus, that would follow with questions about how she got the scar, which was even worse. It was difficult to explain the virtues of one’s self, when you happened to have been a teenage mother. She had taken to lying, in the event that someone caught sight of her scar. It varied with the person, sometimes she put it down to a deformity, or a childhood accident (which wasn’t quite a lie). But as Morgan’s eyes passed over Joshua’s scar, she couldn’t help wondering if perhaps the older man could or would understand, or at least have an inkling. It was the first time Morgan had even considered speaking of it, and she dismissed the idea just as quickly. As kind as the Fire boy appeared to be, he was still Fire, and still a stranger.

She squeezed Emmaline’s hand, drawing the little girl close. “We’re fine, Joshua. The bus station isn’t far.” She shifted awkwardly, hefting the bags in her hands. They weren’t exactly light. And Emmaline wasn’t all that helpful. Not that Morgan blamed the little girl. But she needed to be on her way. She looked past Josh, in the direction of the bus stop impatiently. It was her fear of him, her respect for Nell, that kept her from making a blatant break for it. “We’re doing well,” She hefted the bags for emphasis, gesturing with her head towards bulges. Groceries, including a brilliant turkey and a collection of gifts, could be seen through the plastic. “Going to make a big Christmas dinner.” She looked past him again, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Look, Mr. Dale-” She corrected herself. “Joshua. We need to get home.”

[JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE]

The winter chill was pervasive as it swept along with the wind and seeped through layers of clothing to bite at the skin of anyone without proper defence against the weather. He felt none of this discomfort as his powers kept his body temperature regulated but his sharp gray eyes did not miss the way that Morgan shivered and stuffed her hands in her pockets. Though she had not asked for it, the older Fire elemental took it upon himself to manipulate the air, a pleasant warmth sweeping through to chase away the cold. In the beginning he'd struggled a lot with the exact temperature of the heat that he created, often making it much too hot so that anyone who was not a Fire elemental would not be able to stand in the affected area. Now, a college graduate with his stamina and control near their peak, Josh had no issues with getting the heat to respond to him in the exact way that he wished. He had longed for mastery over the heat since he'd marvelled at the way his father could control the temperature when he was much younger. It was a useful skill, not only for himself but around his friends and people like Morgan. He had not considered asking to make sure that his fellow Fire was all right with him warming the air because he honestly didn't see it as something that required permission. It was cold, he had fixed that.

He did not catch the way that Morgan stared at his scar. He could often tell if someone was fixated on the disfiguration to his cheek if they did not directly meet his eyes but spent a long time with their gaze on his face. This was not one of those times. There had been a period of time shortly following the assault that he'd been reluctant to so much as step foot outside of his bedroom in the morning. Unlike Morgan, he'd spent an unhealthy amount of time staring at his reflection in the mirror and bitterly reflecting upon what other people would see. It drew attention in the way that only such an obvious feature could. He'd hated it. Over time, he'd come to accept it. His wife loved him, scars and all, and she was the only one whose opinion he cared about when it came to his appearance. He supposed he was lucky that he was so confident in himself. He might not have noticed the way that Morgan's gaze went to the scar but he certainly took notice of her discomfort as she spoke, pulling her sister closer. He lifted his hands very slightly, a visual cue that he was backing down. "All right, no worries." The paranoia increased for a moment as he realised that he was going to be forced to get back into his car and drive back home but he did not let it control him enough to persist. It was not a request he would normally have made of anyone but a friend and so pushing it further than the first suggestion would make him as uncomfortable as Morgan was.

He had not paid the bags much mind apart from determining that they had come from the same grocery that he had left minutes before but he looked now as Morgan hefted them in explanation. They looked heavy but he decided against offering to help. If she was desperate to be on her way without company then she wasn't going to want his help. That was all right by him. He was a proud man, he hardly ever accepted help, so it was not like him to take offence to such things. "I'm glad to hear it." His tone was genuine. The holidays were a time that often provoked fighting between relatives. She could have been lying to cover up personal issues with them but either way, he did not think on it further. He had asked the question to be polite, not to pry, and so he took any answer at face value. "It certainly looks like it. I'll be doing the same myself." Not alone but with his own family. Nell, Annabel, any relatives that they invited along who decided to show. Morgan displayed an urge to get going and he was not about to stop her. He shook his head once. "Oh, don't let me hold you up if you're in a hurry," he said amiably, taking a step to the side so that both she and her sister would be able to pass him on the sidewalk without incident. "It was nice seeing you. Enjoy your holidays." He gave off an impression of much more calm than he was actually feeling. Joshua tended to be good at that. I sure hope this little chat hasn't given them long enough to find me.

[MORGAN JANE FARREN]

upon that hill across the blue lake

It was a funny feeling, the one Morgan was having. She found herself watching Josh, but not in that veiled suspicious way she reserved for most strangers she was forced to interact with. She noticed the way his gaze wandered, the thoughts that flashed across his cheeks. She felt the stiffness in her body lessening. The animalistic instinct inside of her that was screaming fight or flight was calming, now more of a whisper in the back of her mind. It sensed a lessening of danger. Her grip on Emmy’s hand loosened slightly, her shoulders relaxed. It wasn’t an apology, or a warm smile, but it was the beginning of something. For in truth, people were animals. Everything about them was wild, feral and vicious. They were so desperate to set themselves apart, to make themselves something grand and almighty. There was a haughtiness to them. Yet deep down, everything about them screamed of their humble heritage, of the trueness of their origins. For did they not travel in packs? They could be quite accurately compared to wolves, truly. There was a necessity to their society, a sense of survival in numbers. And often they were led by the strongest- alphas replaced with titles such as “President” or “King” or “Leader”.

Yes, they were animals, through and through. Morgan guessed, though she would never admit it, that at heart she was a deer. People often laughed, talked about that expression so akin to “a deer in headlights”. They froze, stiffened, their eyes went wide. Above all else, they were creatures possessed by fear. They fled, prancing on their high-topped hooves. There was an elegance to them, yet a certain simplicity. Some called them “forest cows”. Morgan thought them majestic, especially the males with their towering antlers. Perhaps it was idealistic, but where was the sin in that? She thought more often of Bambi. It was a child’s movie, a production of Disney’s cliché imagination. But Disney movies, the old ones, were a secret pleasure of Morgan’s. She spent countless hours watching them over and over, alone and then later, with Emmy. They watched Snow White, Beauty and the Beast, Sleeping Beauty, Bambi. Emmy knew every princess story by heart. Her favorite was Pocahontas, that and the Lion King. There was so much innocence in them, the insistence that good would always triumph over evil. It was foolish, but those sentiments gave Morgan a sort of hope.

Emmy tugged suddenly on Morgan’s sleeve. She bent down to her daughter’s level, still keeping her eyes on Joshua. Emmy whispered in her ear, though her voice was quite loud. The little girl hadn’t quite learned the art of whispering, or of subtlety. But what could really be expected of her? She was three years old, after all. Emmy cupped her hand close to Morgan’s cheek, whispering, “Can we open the candy canes?” Morgan shook her head, slightly confused at where this question had come from. She smiled, petting the little girl’s hair. “Those are for the Christmas tree. Everyone at home will be sad if we eat them all up.” Emmy was shaking her head insistently, gesturing for Morgan to get low again. Morgan bent down, shooting a sort of apologetic look towards Joshua. Emmy whispered again, “Only one, for Mr. Dale. Maybe he’ll smile more.” Morgan straightened, nodding her head, just a single nod. Emmy clapped her hands together, digging through one of the bags until she found the box of thirty or so candy canes. They were a traditional ornament in the Farren home. Emmy dug one out, proffering it towards Joshua.

Morgan found herself quickly gathering the bags. She didn’t want to stay for the aftermath, the thank-you’s. She wasn’t the most eloquent of women. She wasn’t good in social situations, unless bitchiness was required. She took Emmy’s hand once more, giving a nod to Joshua. “Merry Christmas, Josh.” The words were awkward on her tongue, but they were an attempt. However slightly, with however much trepidation and animalistic skittishness, she was beginning to trust Joshua Donovan Dale. If not entirely, she was at least considering the prospect. Steps, no matter how small, were progress. And considering Morgan’s temperament, this was a grand step indeed. She gathered her things, Emmy’s hand held tight. And with a goodbye nod, she swept past Josh and towards the bus station once more.