Al adjusted one of the clouded lenses on his rusted dicfeos while he fiddled with the bearing and spacer on the 

truck axle of Tember's board. Everything had been immaculately cleaned, but one tiny speck was still mocking him. 

After flipping his lens up and down a couple times, he realized the speck was not on the truck axle but rather the 

lens.

He removed the whole contraption and wiped the lense, gently at first, but then continued fruitlessly until he was 

vigorously scratching at it in frustration. He rubbed his eyes and flipped out his useless contacts. 

FUCK!!!! He sneered looking around, desperate for someone to be mad at, but there was only himself.  

Days had passed with no sign of his tennent. He reached up and touched the gash on his forehead, which 

was conveniently covered by his stringy bangs, meaning Al didn't have to be reminded of it every time he 

caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror or window.
To say that Sabre had made herself scarce would have been an understatement. He couldn't even be sure 

if she'd been back to the house since she'd left that day.

He looked at the shattered glass on the floor...

Ugh, I guess it's back to the kiln... Al HATED the kiln, blowing glass, modeling lenses and ceramics.

He squinted as he stepped out into the afternoon sun with a trash bag full of shattered glass and stared down 

the kiln as if he was looking directly into the mouth of hell itself.

He dropped the bag. He couldn't do this. Not right now. He needed to talk to someone... 

Olly would have been his first choice, considering he was always a good distraction. This time though, not only 

did he have work to do... but he needed someone who'd understand his unique circumstances. Pretending to 

be something he was not, and being as terrified of himself as he was of other people... It was all so exhausting. 

There was only one person he could think to call.

"Allllll," Earnie answered cheerily, "Since when do you call me first, huh? No wait- let me guess- help with the 

kiln again?"

"Yes, and..."

"Oh there's an 'and' too this time? Verrrry interesting."

"Shut up. Do you have time to come by or not?"

"Gimmie an hour or two?"

"Sure," he tossed the phone aside, feeling suddenly out of breath.

He took a deep breath from his vaporizer only to notice some deep purple residue on the mouthpiece when 

he pulled it back.

Dammit, his busted lip had split open again.

A few hours later, both in heavy gloves and black goggles, they looked into the blaze as Al used a long pair of 

tongs to pour molten glass from a ceramic container into another that had a series of thin discs inlaid on it.

"Fuck!" Al jumped back, the second he finished.

He was half-naked and drenched in sweat, despite the fact that it was still cold out. He took a puff from his 

vaporizer.

"I'm getting dehydrated," he said, "I'm going to have to go downstairs soon."

"Fine by me," Earnie said as he leaned on a shovel, "But first you gonna' tell me what the hell's going on."

"What?"

"Cut the crap Al, I know you got something to say, so say it."

He looked up at the clouds.

"I've been trying to be good. I have."

"I KNOW. Too good if you ask me. Don't think I forgot 'bout Tuesday! Didn't expect to get yelled at for breaking 

commandments by you of all people. When did you get so religious?"

"I'm just... hedging my bets, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure, so what's the issue this time? Frankly, you look like shit. When was the last time you ate?"

"I'm fine. It wasn't even that long ago."

"Okay then, you gonna tell me who beat the shit out of you this time then?"

Of course he'd noticed, Al groaned and crouched.

"You gotta stop that shit dude, you're not a kid anymore! Sooner or later someone's gonna' notice your 

blood's too dar-"

"I KNOW!! I know! Don't you think I don't know that?!" he paused, "I deserved it though..."

"Shut up! That's just that Catholic guilt getting to you!"

"No. Not this time..." he sighed, "I fucked up. I really fucked up Earnie."

He raised an eyebrow, "Al... what did you do?"

   

By Sunday morning, the snow had begun to thaw into that sort of dirty, grimey slush that plagues many cities 

throughout the winter months. Rohda Campell took a deep breath, determined not to let the grey skies dampen 

her mood. She saw in the distance down the road, a young lady with wild red hair, carrying a chicken under her 

arm, and couldn't help but smile.

Sabre approached cautiously at first, "Um, ma'am... I was told this belongs to you?"

"My brother-in-law actually," she put her hands on her hips, "which makes for good news! Seeing as how he's 

been in the dog house all week."

"I'm sorry? ...he's been staying in the dog house? Is that... some sort of punishment?"

Sabre could only think of how bitterly cold it had been the past few nights.

"Oh no, not literally! How awful would that be?! It's just a saying for when someone's in trouble. I'm sorry, I 

"Oh- um, no it's quite alright..."

"Come! Come in, and I'll show you to the coops."

Sabre hesitated, then followed Mrs. Campell through the front door and right out the side door where the 

small yard was lined with chicken wire.

"Home sweet home, little one!" She gingerly ruffled the hens feathers and allowed Sabre to set her down 

among her compatriots, at which point, she promptly laid an egg.

"Oh my!" Rohda was shocked, "They never do that outside their coops! What luck you are!"

Me? Lucky? The thought made Sabre nearly laugh out loud.

"Come on in! I insist you have a cup of tea!"

"Oh, no, that's not necessary-" Sabre protested but in vain, as she was already being shooed inside and 

escorted to the kitchen table.

"How do you take your tea then loung lady?"

"I um... I like ginger?"

"Aha! You ARE a lucky girl, I knew it!" she said, holding up a small jar of crystallized ginger as she set 

the pot to boil, "I hope green is alright with you," she continued, rubbing her round belly, "It's all we've been 

keeping in the house since the little one's on their way."

"Congratulations," Sabre smiled.

"Oh stop, we're just lucky we were able to tie the knot within an... appropriate time frame," she said with a wink, 

"If ya catch my drift."

Sabre was quite sure that she did. The tea pot whistled and she got up to pour each of their tea.

"So," Rohda said as she sat down, "Seeing as how someone was kind enough to direct you to our humble farm, 

I assume you know who I am?"

"Um... the Smiths said to talk to 'Rohda, not the brothers.' That's all I was told actually..."

Rohda burst out in laughter, "Ahahaha! And what good advice it was too!"

"My husband Lewis," she explained, "He can be quite hard on his brother Jasper, who's only job is to tend to the 

chickens. Lewis has so many other things on his plate, trying to vinish vet school, the little one on the way, not 

Sabre was taken aback by this stranger opening up so much to her, but she supposed it was probably often 

lonely out here on a farm. She couldn't blame her for being eager to have someone to talk to.

"I'm sorry but... Who is his father? And, um... yours?"

"Oh goodness! Just laying it all out bare. Well, I might as well do you the courtesy of explaining myself. Lewis 

and Jasper are the sons of Dr. Campell, who founded the local clinic and research facility, quite a prestigious and 

well-respected man you see."

Ah... Sabre thought, So it's a case of sons failing to live up to an impossible ideal then... happens all the time.

"But... What of your father then?" perhaps it was inappropriate to pry, but now that her curiousity had been 
peeked, Sabre couldn't help but ask, "What reason would he have to be so opposed to your marriage into a

good family? You seem... happy, no?" 

"Oh! I am! I'd been so in love with Lewis for years, and I doubt that much will ever change," she blushed, "But...

 well, as far as my dad is concerned, it's a bit... complidated. I suppose he had always expected me to take over 

"Wait- The tea shop? You mean 'The Fairy Wren?"

"That's the one. I'm the eldest."

"I see," said Sabre, "So, that would make you Earnie's older sister?"

"Oh! Have you met him? He's such a kind and free soul, don't you think?"

"Um...yes, actually, I agree."

"Oh! I haven't even gotten your name sweetheart!"

"Oh, it's Sabre MacGregor."

"Another MacGragor? Are you of any relation to Ian?"

"I..." Sabre looked down at her tea, "I think he was my father."

"You... think?"

"Well, no, I mean yes. He was my father, but I can't remember him."

"That's a shame. He was a good man as far as I recall, always on one crusade or another for justice, ready to 

take on the world."

In the distance bells began to ring.

"Oh! Time for the first service already!" she popped right out of her chair.

"You scurry along Miss Sabre! I'll see you there, yes?"

The eager look in her eyes made it impossible to refuse.

"Um, yeah sure. I'll come check it out.

As she left the Campell's humble homestead Sabre felt reassured of her judgement of their family's character. 

Rohda had the same entancing lilt in her voice as her father. In recent 

Sabre had even spent the night at the Smith's Saturday evening. It was them who had actually told her who 

her the chicken likely belonged to. She hadn't intended to impose, but she had lost track of time, and 

beers, playing with Astrid and Olly in the game room. 

She'd learned a lot about them as well, which always put her more at ease with a person.
Astrid was older, twenty-six actually, and served as the pub's unofficial bouncer. The police station in town 

was quite small, with only three full-time officers, so there were several people in Odann who'd volunteered 

for police training in the case of an emergency. Astrid had been one of them. In addition, she was a pool shark 

if there ever was one. After suffering no less than five shameful defeats, Sabre eventually gave up.

Olly had cheered her up by noting, "Astrid's the best player in town, n' every local knows it. Wait 'till tourist 

season when she really shines, hahaha. Takes them poor guys for all their worth!"

Olly wasn't without his own talents as Sabre soon discovered, darts. Throughout the evening he'd racked up 

at least twelve bullseyes.

"Seems like good aim runs in the family," Sabre had remarked at one point, and was quickly corrected.

"Genetics' got nuthin' to do with it! I ain't related to that brat!" Astrid spat, with a playful smile.

"Aw, sis," Olly clutched his heart dramatically, "Your words wound me."

He had turned to Sabre and whispered with a wink and a smile, "I'm adopted."

Sabre would have felt much worse about her comment if it hadn't been for the fact that this clearly wasn't an 

issue for them. Adstrid treated Olly every bit as much as the annoying little brother that he was, and in turn, 

Olly treated Astrid just as much of the nagging, overprotective sister that she obviously was. 

Likewise, Brennen and Dagmar were doting parents to both of their children. Being around them made Sabre 

happy, but she had warned herself not to get too comfortable with any of these people. 

She'd been so lost in thought, sitting in the second to the last row of the chapel, that she hadn't even noticed 

the church pews filling up in front of her. It seemed as if the entire town was crammed in here. So many 

strange people made her nervous, and she could begin to hear whispers...

"Oh my, she's new..."

"From out of town you think?"

"No she was here last week," someone else chimed in, "Seamus saw her in the study but said she didn't look 

quite well."

"Hush! Don't you know it's rude talking about someone."

"Yeah, pipe down."

Sabre did see a few friendly faces though, like the Smiths, and the Wrens, save for their mother. When the 

Campell's arrived, Rohda turned to give her an enthusiastic wave as they passed by. 

The last group that arrived sat directly behind her in the last few seats available.

"See! See, I knew this would happen if you didn't hurry up," Sabre overheard the mother say, "Now we'll have 

to sit by that menace! That-that-thief! Shamelessly peddling stolen treasures and powdered bones to decent,

innocent people. Not to mention, BLUE hair dye."

"Shut up, mom," the young man next to her said.

"Don't you dare speak to your mother like that in church!"

"Whatever."

"Pretend you don't care all you want, Tember, but he's a grave-robber is what he is! And there's no denying it!"

"He's a diver and a junker, get over yourselves," Tember Price replied impatiently, and Sabre suddenly felt 

she knew exactly who they were talking about.

"Azzie Wren told us he's a sea monster!"

"Don't be ridiculous, sea monsters aren't real," Bradley piped up.

"Yeah, well even if they were it wouldn't matter, cuz he's just a guy, coming to church, just like the rest of us, 

so shut up already."

"Who knows, maybe he won't show up today," Mrs. Price said.

Sabre hoped she was right. There was certainly no love lost between her and her skeevy landlord, and she had 

not a reason nor any inclination to defend him against any such rumors.

"Don't be ridiculous," Tember shot back, "He always comes."

Sabre's heart sank.
Just as they had begun to light the candles, indicating the beginning of worship, a loud creak from the old 

wooden doors echoed through the chapel. Al slipped in quitely, amongst and eruption of whispers.

"The nerve he has-"

"And late to show up too."

"I hope there's no seat left."

"Right, maybe he'll just leave..."

Al didn't bat an eye at the quiet commotion.

I guess he's used to it... and as he SHOULD be, Sabre thought bitterly.

"Pst!" Tember waved him over, and scooted against his brother, making room at the end of the pew.

"'Sup," Al whispered.

"Dude, you stink like shit."

"I was diving this morning."

"Shower next time then ya' sicko," AL glared at him, "How's my baby?"

"She's ready to roll," Al replied, "You said you were gonna be back in three days, so..."

"Yeah, but I didn't actually expect you to get it done."

"QUIET! Both of you!" Mrs. Price snapped.

Sabre couldn't see him, but she knew he was right behind her. She didn't dare look back. And she couldn't 

shake the feeling that he was staring right at the back of her head... Probably because it was very much true. 

That is, until Father Allen suddenly appeared at the pulpit.

"Aww shit," Al murmured to himself, and he put his face down into his hands.