Dear Pocket Diary,

Just left home for the river. It's quiet here. Snow is falling peacefully even though there's wind everywhere else. It's really cold, but I'm wearing boots, snow pants, gloves, the wolf hood, the bat cloak, and my hoodie. I have like three hoods. I can smell food from far away, probably from the grocery store.

- Drew

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Dear Pocket Diary,

Kinda lost. Seems like everyone's making food. Guess the store's probably closed this late anyway. Shouldn't have tried to follow the smell. Cars are super loud today. Wind is scary but I'm not cold yet.

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Sid's Log @ 10 pm

Truck

No child should be out this late, nor any old man of sixty for that matter. Out looking for Grim. Could track him more easily with the Hood. I am starting to realize the consequence of my antagonism on this child, which may have been the result of some ego on my part. Will keep my eyes peeled, regardless.

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Sid's Log @ 10:15 pm

Encountered the young fool at the bridge, lost as a lamb. Offered him a ride, but he declined. How could a child refuse warmth and transport?

Caught the Hood, but in the absence of cars the sick little cripple managed to sprint across the highway, and into a vast field. Awaiting the heightened senses from the Hood and will follow in a minute.

* * *

Diary,

2 cold 2 write, Sid took hood, cloak has hood 2 tho. In field, or golf course. Blizzard. Not stopping. Can hear singing.

- Drew

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Sid's Log @ 10:30 pm

I cannot return to my new family empty-handed, no matter how much I wish this nuisance to freeze and die. I have searched to no avail. His footprints are already snowed over. It must be 20 below, 30 from wind. Can the cloak keep him alive through such cold? For once, I must admit, I hope so.

I recall the brutal chill of the motherland Russia, where I lived my youth as a common burglar for mere breadcrumbs. A storeroom may keep a single dry loaf for a year without heat to thaw it. Had I known my days in the army would be spent much the same, I'd have left that gun where it stood and accepted my bullet. Ah, but my dear sweet Esmeralda... I could not have fed her as a mere peasant thief. Only a thief of the state can afford such luxury.

I digress, this child knows not his security and wealth. To have frozen meat in the tundra was survival. To feel its warm blood next to an open fire was a blessing. Fruits and turnips in jars can only last so long, and the winter is longer. Must I pay his life for my grand design of a wheel that turns bloody warmth year -round? Perhaps I should have remembered my own poverty and ceased in the warmer seasons, but could these hungry people have let me? Food will always be food, after all.

How long will he keep, I wonder, buried in the snow?

* * *

Flin's Jornol +???

Dad'c still not home. He's a big man. he can do whatever he wants ! Uell so can I: Big men drink beer, right? And I am 2wice the man heis, so I have aming TWOO.

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Sid's Log @ 11 pm

I was forced to return to the Radigans without their child, despite having the best means to track him. A humiliating case of a bitter old man getting what he wished for, but only after he no longer wished it. Pearl fared no better.

For Britta, I'll pray for his safe return.

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Pearl's Datebook

I'm scared and sick to death. Drew ran away from home, in the city, in the middle of a snowstorm. I shouldn't have let Sid talk to him. That geriatric prick probably said something to set him off, he already felt bad enough being blamed for everything.

It's been bad enough taking care of a kid that won't eat anything I make for him, now he won't even stay home. He never leaves without that leather cape anymore, and I've given him all the gloves and winter boots I could get this last month, so I hope he stays warm.

I went up and down the whole city centre looking for him, but now I have to sleep and leave it to the police. There's no way I'm letting him go the way that his mom and dad did, without a trace. His mom I get, but Jack? That asshole could show up any time he wants – he just doesn't.

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Pearl's Datebook

I just woke up in the middle of the night from a like, really crazy dream.

I was a butterfly, and there was this magical forest with all of these glowy lights. But above that there was a big grey crow, fighting a bat. The crow had worms falling out of its wings like hail, and it was clawing the bat with its feet. Then it started snowing, and the bat's wings were freezing, and he fell down a tree and into a snowbank.

I followed him into a cave, where there was a wolf pup. It was acting sleepy and pissed-off, and it could barely stand up, but it growled at the bat. They stared at each other for like, a really long time.

Then there was this lady moth, that came up to me and said that when animals get close to dying, their spirit has to find its way home or it'll pass on.

Then this pig waddled in. And I thought for sure, "that wolf's gonna eat that pig", but it didn't! The pig sat down right next to the wolf, and the bat landed on the pig, and they all just went to sleep like that. Like they were friends or something! It was weird but cute.

So the moth and I landed on the bat for some reason, even though bats normally eat bugs (and sleep upside-down now that I think about it). Even though the cave was really cold, everyone in it was warm. Then we all went to sleep.

I'm still scared for Drew. Maybe when he comes home I can tell him about my dream, like it's a fairy tail. Then again, he might be too old for those.

- Pearl Becken

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Flint's Journal #17

Jan. 24

Woke up feeling sick to death. Puke in my mouth that I choked on until I got to the bathroom and let the rest of it out. If I'd been on my back instead of my side, I'd be dead. Dad's still not home, though.

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Flint's Journal #18

Dad just pulled in to the driveway carrying a big bag of dead bats to the shed. I thought he was too busy to hunt?

I wonder if he remembers that tomorrow is my birthday. Or if he'd care that I almost died.

I almost don't want him to care, just so I can grow up and stop needing him.

* * *

Dear Pocket Diary,

Woke up buried in snow. Surprisingly warm, but I'm still freezing. Hungry, too. "Singing" was just wind whistling through gravestones. Oh yeah, I'm at a cemetery.

Cops just came by, looking for me. Probably for all the bad stuff they think I did. Hiding now, gotta find Flint or Jet. Can't get caught.

- Drew