A Peculiar Time in 1944 - A Millard Fanfic (Miss Peregrine's Home) #wattys2020

Chapter 47

"Watching over us all, her black eyes shining in the dark, was Miss Peregrine. Though damaged and diminished, she was still our protector." {Jacob Portman, pg 56 book 2}

They bolted through the dunes as gangs of silhouettes splashed through the water crossing the last few feet of the shore, guns held in their hands. Their group of peculiars hurried into the forest so dark and thick they hoped to easily lose the wights. After a few minutes of dodging trees and branches they stopped, chests heaving, to listen. Among the voices of the men was also the sound of dogs barking.

They ran and ran for what seemed like hours, at one point they waded through an icy stream to try and throw the dogs off their scent. They followed the flowing water until their feet were numb then crossed out on the other side. The twins were the first to start falling behind so Bronwyn scooped them up and kept running. But already exhausted and now weighed down by the twins she started to fail as well. Eventually, Horace tripped over a root and fell to the ground, begging for a rest. Even Enoch leaned against a tree to catch his breath, they all had reached their limit and had to stop.

"It's no use running in circles in the dark anyway." Olive said still holding firmly to Miss Peregrine in her arms.

"We'll be able to make better sense of this forest in the light of day." Millard said.

"Provided we live that long." Enoch said still huffing by a tree.

A light rain began to fall dripping from leaf to leaf until the fat raindrops pelted their heads. Fiona made a shelter by petting the trees and whispering to their trunks until she'd coaxed some of the lower branches to bend together forming a watertight roof. They all huddled beneath it listening to the dogs barking in the distance. Now with the adrenaline fading Aurora's mind drifted to the men with guns who were hunting them. Would they shoot them on sight? Or make them prisoners and torture them first? As her thoughts went down that dark depressing path she huddled closer to Millard, who had lost his shirt in their running and was now only wearing trousers. Aurora still had his jacket and offered it to him but he declined, saying he was used to being naked and he'd prefer knowing she was warm.

Then Claire started crying, softly at first then louder as both her mouths couldn't keep from sobbing.

"Get ahold of yourself!" Enoch said, "They'll hear you – then we'll all have something to cry about!"

"They're going to feed us to their dogs! They're going to shoot holes in us and take Miss Peregrine!"

Aurora pulled Claire into her lap and began rubbing her back in soothing circles, "It'll be alright Claire. We're going to be okay, just think about something else."

"I'm truh- trying!" she wailed.

"Try harder sweetheart, please. Anything else. . . anything."

"I'm suh-sorry. Muh-maybe if I could hear a story. . .one of the Tales. . . "

"Not this again." Millard said now getting as agitated as everyone else, "I'm beginning to wish we'd lost those damned books at sea with the rest of our things!" Aurora slapped his arm, he wasn't helping but she understood that he was getting restless, they all were. Empty bellies, dehydration and no sleep was now weighing heavily down on everyone and to top it off they now had wights trailing them and could only hope they'd make it til morning.

"It's worth a try." Emma said, "anything to calm her down."

Bronwyn took out one of the volumes of the Tales and Miss Peregrine hopped out of Olive's arms and made her way to Bronwyn. She started pecking at a different volume so Bronwyn selected that one instead and handed it to Olive. Then the Bird used her beak to open it to a seemingly random chapter and Olive, by the light of her finger, began to read.

"Once upon a peculiar time in a forest deep and ancient there roamed a great many animals. There were rabbits and deer and foxes, just as there are in every forest, but there were animals of a less common sort too, like stilt-legged grimbears and two headed lynxes and talking emu-raffes. These peculiar animals were a favorite target of hunters, who loved to shoot them and mount them on walls and show them off to their hunter friends, but loved even more to sell them to zookeepers, who would lock them in cages and charge money to view them. Now you might think it would be far better to be locked in a cage than to be shot and mounted upon a wall, but peculiar creatures must roam free to be happy, and after a while the spirits of caged ones wither, and they begin to envy their wall-mounted friends."

"This is a sad story." Claire grumbled but nonetheless, Aurora could feel her sobs calming down as she rocked the girl in her arms. She masked her own fears and did her best to stay strong for the young one. It seemed to work as Claire began to listen intently to the story. But it hadn't fooled Millard, he saw right through it and put his hand on Aurora's shoulder. His thumb rubbed in small circled through the fabric of his jacket and Aurora smiled slightly at the gesture, his own quiet way of comforting her.

"Word of Cuthbert's kindness spread throughout the forest, and soon peculiar animals were coming to him every day, asking to be lifted up to the mountaintop and out of danger. And Cuthbert said, 'I'll protect you, little brothers and sisters. All I ask in return is that you talk to me and keep me company. There aren't many giants left in the world and I get lonely from time to time.'

"And they said, 'Of course, Cuthbert we will.'

Aurora shut her eyes and listened along to Olive's calm soothing voice as she read. Whoever wrote the Tales painted a perfect picture in the reader's mind and Aurora had no trouble visualizing all the peculiar animals atop the mountain talking to their giant friend. She let her mind wander into the Tale and leave their current troubles behind – if only for a moment. It was just her watching the story unfold, the only thing she held onto from the present was the feeling of Millard rubbing her shoulder.

"Then one morning a witch came to see Cuthbert. He was bathing in a little lake in the shadow of the mountain when she said to him 'I'm terribly sorry, but I've got to turn you into stone now.'

Was the witch really a witch? Aurora wondered. Millard always criticized the Tales, saying they were for children but Aurora was always able to entertain her mind with more mature questions. Was the witch perhaps a peculiar woman? Did she not use magic but her own unique peculiarity? Aurora had never heard about witches being real, but over the years she had heard of peculiars who could change objects with their minds. Aurora wished the witch had her own Tale, maybe she was a peculiar and used witchcraft as a disguise, a way to interact with the common world and keep her secret at the same time?

" 'I know you can't save me. 'Cuthbert shouted up to his friends, 'but at least come talk to me! I'm stuck down here and so very lonely!'

" 'But if we come down there the hunters will shoot us!' they called back.

'Talk to me!' he begged, 'Come and talk to me!'

"But they never did. And he was still crying when his throat turned to stone like the rest of him. The end."

"That's a terrible story!" Claire complained, "Tell another one!"

"A story's a story," said Emma, "and now it's time for sleep."

Claire pouted and Aurora patted her blonde curls as the smaller girl nuzzled her head into Aurora's chest.

"Tomorrow's not likely to be any easier than today was, we'll need what rest we can get." Millard said as he wrapped an arm around Aurora and she leaned into his embrace letting her exhaustion wash over her. Claire had snuggled into her lap and bees flew in and out of Hugh's mouth as he snored. Fiona had made a pillow out of moss, the young ones snuggled against Olive for warmth, Horace and Enoch were back to back too proud to snuggle and would rather put up with the cold. Jake was on his back with Emma's head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. And that's how they all fell asleep, all praying that things would look better in the morning.