In the kingdom of Faerie’s, two children were born to the the Queen. The twins were alike in every way, with hair of moonlight and eyes of the finest gold. But besides the king, queen, and servants of the castle, no one knew there were two children heir to the thrown.

The day the Princesses Evangelina were born, their mother says, was the worst day of her life. Twins are a a bad omen enough, as they are killed or sent to the mortal world when born. But twins of the queen, signals the end of the crown.

So for eighteen years, Eva and Lina have taken turns being princess Evangelina, until the day their mother decides which twin will meet the throne, and which will earn an early death in their immortal lives.

                                ***

Eva twirl in front of the mirror, admiring the gown her fawn servants sewed last minute. She had wanted to wear a red gown before, but it was torn by one of the pixies who delivered it.

“Do you think Prince Killian will like this dress” she asks, lifting the skirt to look at the inner lining.

Lina puts down her book, turning to her sister. They have had hundreds of conversations, each with another boy being the main concern. “You are not getting us entwined with that swine.”

Eva gasps, her face twisting into a scandalous smile. She has always loved the less obedient side of her sister. “What language. Certainly not fit for a princess.” She places the book atop the shelf, shoving it back where they keep all hidden treasures. Things like love letters from servants, or swords from drunken knights who were too disoriented to notice they were stolen.

“Getting involved with a betrothed prince isn’t? Besides, he smells like pine and dirt” Lina says, scrunching her nose up

“Two reasons why it’s all the better.” The sisters share a look, knowing that there is no justification for any boy to smell like they bathe in tree sap.

Eva and Lina have lived all there lives as princess Evangelina, but when it’s just the two of them, they couldn’t be more different. The one thing they mutually agreed on was that the children of gentry went to ridiculous lengths to smell like nature and grass.

Lina try’s hiding her giggle with a pillow, and throws it at Eva’s direction. It misses her and hits the door. “Go now. Wouldn’t want to keep the prince waiting” she teases.

Eva smiles, wiggling her brows up. “Wouldn’t indeed.”

She exits the room, leaving the vast space to Lina. Her smile disappears in an ínstense.

As much as the sisters pretend the day their mother choses who gets to be princess Evangelina will never come, they sense it near. And while Lina knows Eva gets into trouble to help her, she won’t accept it. She would rather die than live by her sisters blood.

So when everyone is gone at the banquet, Lina escapes through the window and to the woods.

She’s planned her escape for a while. When she leaves, a servant will set the room up as a kidnapping. The clues would eventually lead to a trolls cave, where a pile of bones will wear her clothes. And boom: Princess Lina is dead.

It’s not that she wants to “die.” Her life as a princess has been one she has relished in every moment. And leaving her twin is like leaving her other half. But it’s the only way they can both live. Because sometimes the ones you love the most are the ones life will never let you have.

As Lina makes her way through the woods, she spots a lake through the clearings of the oak trees. There Gale waits for her and her new life, with only a bag and an ore.

Gale was a human servant in the castle. He was the only one Lina trusted to help her sneak out when it wasn’t her turn to be princess, and the boy she mocked for being hopelessly in love with Eva when he was a teen. Lina bribed him with piles of gold to take her to his home in the mortal worlds, and he agreed. The mortal stuck as a servant for his parents can pay off his debt and more with all she provided.

As she steps in the boat, she says goodbye to all she’s ever had, and all she could have had. There will only be one princess Evangelina now, and she can no longer bring destruction to the crown.

Lina places the glamour upon herself to appear human, and they sail through the mist to the human realms.

Lucy You see grew up rich and spoiled, a brat. One day when she was sixteen she laughed at a kid from school. “You having a successful business I don’t see it. In fact where would you get the money, you are only going to this school because you have a scholarship. Being smart doesn’t mean you have money.” She said at lunch. “Like you said being smart doesn’t mean you have money, you aren’t.” Roxanne said. Lucy walked away to have fun with friends but Roxanne studied. “Omg can you believe it’s the end of school. I am so sad gonna miss you Jessi.” She walked away with Betty “Not gonna miss her.” “Ok some of you couldn’t pass because you need to work more hard but that’s ok you can just take another year.” The teacher said. “So the people who did not pass are Lucy, and Oscar.” Everyone was silent, they knew Lucy would make a big fit. Some thought she had been calm this time but no, she was so angry her face was red and so angry silent. “You better listen to me that Roxanne better stay behind too, and get you failed if I failed, SO LET ME PASS!” Everyone was silent the teacher looked scared and Roxanne got up “Look your parent can pay her off, and next to,e work harder or your going to be broke.” Lucy closed her eyes and sighed then got up slowly “me, be broke? Like you said my parents can pay them off.” The teacher slowly stumbled to her desk and stuttered “I wi-will talk ta-to y-your parents.” After then her parents sat her down for a talk that would change her life forever. “Lucy we are almost broke, looks like we’ve spent money to quickly. Your father will go back to work, and we might move but we can still afford for your collage.” Lucy was afraid to tell them she got up and said “Your funny, Look I didn’t pass so we have to pay the teachers off.” Her parents weren’t happy. She had to go to public school. Seven years later she had 3 kids and was Married, she was going to a job interview she went to a company and Roxanne was there, “Oh hi long time no see, Do you work as an employee at one of there stores?”She said Roxanne was confused and then said “No and you can’t be in here this is my office.” Lucy was surprised and then said “ Oh sorry I just wanted to have an interview with the owner.” Roxanne realized what she was here for and laughed “Oh, you! Well I’m the owner and you weren’t suppose to meet me in here” “your kidding? Right.” “No but can see your resigné” “ugh oh ok, it doesn’t have much on it” “Looks here like you didn’t finish college and you’ve only worked at arby’s. but You can work as a customer at a store.” “Look I have experience, so just hire me as your assistant.” “Look I started from the bottom for my store so you should for this company.” “No I have kids and a husband so just let me.” “Look I was thinking about hiring you but here we like to be kind so now I’ll have to let you go.” Lucy screamed of anger and threw everything off the desk “security please handle this woman in my office.” Then Lucy never saw Roxanne again. Only on tv.

Flicking through the profiles his face stared back. His profile? Faceless. Which offered a certain amount of anonymity when it came to messaging the occupier of his face.

They agreed to meet.

What began for him as the start of a hook up turned into shock and confusion as he looked upon his image.

The two began throwing around facts about their lives.

• Same birthday.
• Same birthplace.

But most shocking of all…

• Same grandmother.

Yep, for years their grandmother had been visiting them both without either one knowing. It’s why she could never attend their birthdays for more than a couple of hours. She had hidden them from each other.

If it wasn’t for a random scroll through a gay hook up app, the twins never would have met.

At the time they felt hurt and betrayed, but now they look back and laugh sharing the sentiment “I guess the app is good for something after all.”

I’m not sure when things went awry but what began as a lousy Monday got worse with each day that passed. Six weeks later, I found myself fearful of leaving the house, believing the new day would only bring more disappointment. My life was in shambles. Eviction proceedings were imminent as were criminal charges that couldn’t be defended. I was guilty well beyond all reasonable doubt. Collection notices for past due bills piled up by the front door. Whenever I heard the metallic squeak of the mail slot open, it only meant that more bad news was being delivered. If the envelopes weren’t opened then they didn’t exist, at least that’s what I told myself.

The only time I went out in public was at night. Wearing navy blue sweatpants and a hoodie, it was easier to blend into the shadows under the cover of darkness. Now that it was Winter, wearing gloves and a ski mask was less conspicuous. As long as the outfit helped me disappear into the night after mugging a targeted victim, then I’d stay one step ahead of the law. I didn’t care if they nipped at my heels just as long as the cops never caught up to me.

When it came to robbing people or breaking into their homes, I never worried about the finesse of the profession. It was all about timing. Expediency was the key. The more time spent loitering at a crime scene only increased my chances of getting caught. I had been to prison before and didn’t relish the idea of going back.

The last man I robbed surprised me when he reached for a concealed revolver. As we grappled on the sidewalk, I kneed him in the crotch with all of my might. When he collapsed, the gun fell out of his hand. I picked it up and struck him in the head, before running off with his wallet and watch. His moans fell into the distance as I left him to fend for himself. On the streets it was survival of the fittest. If he wasn’t fit enough to defend himself then he got what he deserved.

Between the cash in his wallet and what was given to me by the pawn shop for his watch, I had enough money to last a few days. I knew better than to use the stolen credit cards; it’s why I went to jail the first time. Before discarding his wallet, the photo on his driver’s license caught my attention. His face was my face.

“How could I have robbed myself?” I thought.

Aside from his hairstyle, we looked identical. The color of our eyes and hair was the same, plus he had the same crooked nose as my father and I. We even had the same last name. After I shaved the stubble from my face, our appearances became even more alike. I didn’t have any siblings, at least none that I knew of, and doubted anyone would steal my identity. Why would they want to?

Over the next few days, I visited my twin’s apartment, to return his wallet and gun, but stopped short of entering the building. I stood across the street debating how best to introduce myself.

“I’m the guy that robbed you” didn’t seem like an ideal way to start a conversation with someone that I might be related to.

Regardless who he was, I was a bit envious. It appeared he did well for himself as the building, located in a nicer part of town, had a doorman to greet and help the residents. Whenever my double exited the building, I studied his mannerisms to see if we acted the same way, hopeful that it might provide some clue about whether we were related. I also took note of when he came and went.

After summonsing the courage to confront the situation, I crossed the street and entered the building. The doorman was quick to open the door for me.

“Good morning, Mr. D’Angelo. How are you doing today?”

“Not too good,” I replied. “I seem to have locked myself out. Do you have a spare key for my apartment?”

“You know we do,” he said before disappearing into an adjoining room to retrieve it. “Just drop this back to me when you leave.”

I walked up to the second floor apartment and let myself in. The other “Mr. D’Angelo” had left an hour earlier, presumably for work, which allowed time to be spent looking for the most expensive item to steal. Afterwards, I hoped to find a side door or emergency exit. I’d only return the key after a locksmith made a duplicate copy for my use. Ten minutes into my search, someone knocked upon the door. I opened it to find a middle aged man scratching notes on a clipboard.

“Hey Tom. I let them know downstairs that I’d pick up the key when I swung by for the rent.”

“Oh, uh…okay,” I stuttered, unsure how to respond. Reluctant, I handed him the key. “I, uh…I won’t have the rent until tomorrow.”

“It’s due today.”

“But I don’t have it today. I’ll have it tomorrow.”

“This isn’t gonna be a habit, is it?” he asked flustered with impatience. “Everyone else pays on time.”

He flashed the clipboard in my direction. A list of names was attached, along with an envelope stuffed with rent payments.

“If you give me that envelope then I can pay you right now.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ll do,” he said will a roll of his eyes.

When he turned to exit the apartment, I pulled the gun from my waistline and bashed him in the back of the head with the butt of the gun. Jumping on top of him, I hit him a second time. While he moaned on the ground, I thumbed through the envelope, keeping the cash and discarding the rest. I stood and looked around, to get my bearings. Before leaving, I wedged the gun under a sofa cushion and tossed the wallet on a coffee table.

It was the best haul of my fledgling career as a burglar; just shy of six thousand dollars. The money would run out eventually, as would my twin’s freedom, but there was no point in dwelling on what the future held. At least, for now, there was enough money in my pockets to begin life anew elsewhere. A few hours later, I hopped a bus out of town and never looked back.

Up until this day I have always believed what I’ve been told: that there is only one of me, and that’s what makes me so special.

This, for a great percentage of people, is entirely true. And there is no way that could be changed (unless of course humans found a way to clone themselves; though the world does seem to be heading in this direction, with all the new technology that has been and will be developed.)

I would always say that I was grateful to be able to look in the mirror, and say that photos and reflections were the only way there would me multiple versions of me. 

Now I know that someone else has had this view on life for the exact same amount of days and minutes as I have. It is however a surprise that I was not informed of this because I had quite simply, been leading myself on. Again, I’m not the only one who has been doing so.

The phrase still applies to anyone who is not a twin, or a triplet, or a quadruplet, or a quintuplet, or— because there is still only one version of them. But when you are a twin, or a triplet, or a quadruplet, or— there is not only one version of you, there are multiple. 

I’m not sure if this may be a good or bad thing to some people, or if they are indifferent.

But for me: This. Is. Bad. News.

Would you hate her too? If you saw her, a copy of you, same face, same body, would you hate her? If she looked like the same reflection you had sworn destroy, the same reflection you had cried about night after night after night, would you hate her with the same burning passion you do yourself?

“Hey! I thought you were working today?” The stranger asks Sandie, she blinks dumbly at the girl, was she supposed to know this person? She swallows her anxiety and decides to clarify the situation.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

The stranger looks taken back, as if confused by her question. “Uh yeah, we’ve been friends since the third grade, did you hit your head or something?”

Sandie shakes her head. “You have me confused with someone else. I don’t know who you are.”

“How…?” the strangers sentence trails off as the girls brown eyes bore into her own. Realization falls like a wave across her face. “..oh jeez, I’m sorry, you look exactly like my friend.”

“No worries.” Sandie laughs nervously before they depart and provide an awkward wave, the stranger does a double take, eyebrows knotted in puzzlement. They continue down the street and out of Sandie’s sight. Sandie found it weird but not enough to ruin her day.

Until it happened again, and again.

Everyday, sometimes three to four times she is recognized as someone else, only for the stranger to apologize for the misidentification. In all her twenty years of life, this has never happened before, but for the past month it is happening more and more.

Sandie slams into someone on the street, too distracted by her thoughts to pay attention, bumping right into their broad chest. She mutters an apology and begins to step around, only to find their large hands enclose around her arms. Squeezing them painfully in an iron grip.

“Boss said it was going to be difficult finding you, rather easy I’d say.” The man’s voice is rough as if he gurgled with nails each morning. He had a faint scar on his right eye and his blond hair is slicked back with tremendous amounts of gel. Rage and victory displayed on his face as he held Sandie close and started to lead her down an alley where a van waited.

She bucked and kicked, Sandie was being kidnapped.

Why?!

She tried to scream for help but the man’s hand clamped over her lips, muffling any sound.

“Stop squirming Maddie, you had to know he was going to come after you. After everything you stole from him.”

Maddie? Who the hell was Maddie?! What did she steal?! Is this the girl that Sandie has be mistaken for?

Sandie is thrown in the back of the van, the moment she is inside, another person is waiting and covers her mouth once again with a cloth. The smell of bitter almonds fills her nose and darkness floods in.

Sandie wakes confined to a cheep plastic chair, blinking past her blurred vision; she meets eyes of the men that kidnapped her.

“Where are the diamonds, Maddie?” One of them hisses. “Just tell us where they are and you can go free.”

Disorientation messes with her comprehension, she seen enough movies to know that line was bull. Sandie shakes her head to clear the fog. “What are you talking about?”

A sharp slap slams across her cheek, fully waking her up. “Don’t play dumb,” the man spits “,diamonds, where are they?”

“I don’t know anything about your damn diamonds!” Sandie bellows “How many times do I have to tell you people, I’m not this Maddie chick!” She tugs on her restrains and causes the ropes to dig and pinch.

“I have eyes girlie,” one man says, reaching into his pocket, he pulls a knife and frees the blade, pressing the cold steal against Sandie’s cheek. “,I know that face anywhere, now we can do this the easy way or the hard way, it’s up to you.”

Desperation grew in her voice. “Please you have the wrong girl!” The man clicks his tongue and the point of the blade sinks through her flesh, she cries out until a sharp whistle slices through the air.

The men turn and Sandie follows their gaze. A woman holds up a bag and wiggles it.

“Looking for these gentleman.” The woman speaks, the men do a double take; at Sandie then at the girl.

The stranger smiles sinisterly at their face of recognization. Sandie’s heart beats with panic and her own face develops into the same form of acknowledgment. The girl provides her own weapon and aims it at the goons.

“Time to play boys.”

Sandie stares in bewilderment at the person she has been mistaken for, the girl who knew how to use a gun; her badass twin.

Beyond the gilded throne, she stood: opulence personified in her cloak of flowing silk, the royal colour purple. The hood, drawn over her head, obscured her face.

“Shadow Empress of Ka’ilai,” I spat. On my back, the twisted scythe hung from its tattered belt. It groaned as I grasped its hilt, its ancient voice vibrating up my arm, through my chest, as it anticipated the blood it knew would soon be shed.

Brandished before me, my intention was clear.

The Empress continued to gaze out the stained-glass window before her, enthralled by the riots below, as if the sight of her capitol on fire mesmerised her. She spared no glance.

Without warning, I ran at the Empress and, scythe poised, I swung. She ducked at the last minute – a surprising show of agility – the hood of her cloak barely unscathed as she scampered. I followed through on the swing and hit the throne instead, its golden body crumpling under the force. I suppose the battle from the base of the tower had caught up to me; it was a struggle to dislodge it.

No longer mesmerised by the chaos below, the Empress was forced to look at me. She oddly cowered under her hood, drawing it over her face.

“Coward!” I screamed as the scythe finally came loose, balance swaying as its weight nearly threw me off. “You’ve led this land to ruin, always in the shadows, never showing your face! What, are you deformed?!”

I ran at her again. The scythe groaned once more, louder as it demanded the Empress’ blood. With its immense weight for momentum, I swung, too fast for the Empress as she barely dodged transection. The blade caught on her cloak instead and, following through on my swing, I tore its silken threads.

Her hood, torn from the body of the cloak, fluttered to the marble floor. The Empress’ eyes, no longer hidden by fabric, met mine.

Suddenly, I was looking at a mirror.

Instinct told me she must have been a shapeshifter, like the one from the Ka’naan forest. But shapeshifters reflect their prey with exact precision: the Empress looked like me, but her nose wasn’t crooked – had never been broken – and her eyebrows were tamed. Her hair was long, too, like a typical Ka’ili woman, and soft; her whole face was soft, as if she’d never gone a night without dinner.

And her eyes, wide in fear, were slightly greyer than mine; haunted by sights I had never seen.

The scythe groaned again, although this time, without bloodlust. It resonated in confused recognition, and from the surprised wince on the Empress’ face, I knew she had felt it too. The shadow Empress of Ka’ilai was no shapeshifter.

“Explain yourself!” I shouted. Shapeshifter or not, there were other creatures who could steal one’s face. Perhaps, the Empress was an illusion.

I swung once more; confused on its loyalty to me or the enemy with my face, it wouldn’t land a killing blow. Instead, it sliced the Empress’ leg as she tried to flee. Blood welled from the cut, deep, and the scythe resonated with apology – for cutting the Empress’ leg, or for denying me the kill, I was unsure.

However, it was clear: the Empress was no fighter; she was not me.

I held the scythe high, prepared to take her leg, when she cried: “Alias!”

The scythe halted upon the mention of my father, and quivered slightly in my grasp.

“How do you know his name?” I spat.

“A-Alias!” she stuttered. “The smith, who forged the Reaper’s scythe!”

“What of him!”

“Your father! O-our father!”

Even with the shadow Empress of Ka’ilai, the ruthless advisor who sold out her kingdom for greater power, trembling on the ground before me, I felt a weakness in my arms. “That’s impossible!” I said.

The scythe fell to the floor, my head began to spin, suddenly too heavy to hold upright yet weightless as I collapsed.

The curse.

“Just listen to me,” she pleaded, and I had no choice but to listen.

“How?” I weakly uttered. The Empress, leg sliced open, hauled herself into a sitting position, and dragged the scythe from my lax hands.

She said: “Alias; paramour of Lady Saphielle of the House of Xyrralei. Your mother - our mother - is Lady Saphielle.”

Of the feared House of Xyrralei; blood-thirsty conquers of the known continent, keepers of the hydra.

My mother: the matriarch of the House of Xyrralei.

How could this be?

“This is a hell of a lot harder than knit one, purl two,” Chris said. Her tongue stuck out a little while she concentrated over her needle and thread. “Language young lady,” aunt Nancy said as she rocked in the rocking chair. “Remember you’re the silly bitch who wanted to learn this old timey crap.” Aunt Nancy took her niece’s embroidery hoop and demonstrated a French knot for the fourth time. Their heads like mirror images bent over the taut fabric. “Did you know during World War II women ran the factories and farms and were even girl lumberjacks?” Vivi was very serious. Her mother and great aunt made affirmative noises in her general direction. “I know it,” Lena said, half to her big sister and half to her stuffed kangaroo, John John. Vivi ignored her and returned to her new book of useless yet inspiring facts for girls. “They were known as lumberjills,” Vivi continued. “Everybody knows that.” Lena glared at her sister. Vivi matched her stare. “you’re a baby. How would you know anything.” Measured, Vivi’s voice was sharp as a switch. “V you cut that out right now. You gonna get it if you keep at your sister.” Chris put down the hoop, stitches forgotten. Every day was another battle with these two, she thought. Lena rubbed John-John’s long velvety ears. “Jordy tells me things.” Turning the pages angrily, Vivi returned to her big girl book. “Liar,” she hissed. “There’s no Jordy.” “Jordy is my friend. She not yours. She’s mommy’s twin sister. She comes to me at night. Jordy got real sick and went away and Grammy Susie wouldn’t let anybody talk about Jordan. We play with my toys. She chased away the people who knocked on the upstairs windows. Jordy can be little like me or a grown up lady. But she’s always mine not yours.” With that Lena popped up, tucked John-John under her arm, and walked off. “She’s not alive but she’s not just bones, stupid. Vivi sucked her teeth. Chris turned to her aunt. “Can you believe this….” Her voice trailed away as she looked into her aunt’s crumbled face. Covering her eyes, aunt Nancy ran to the kitchen. Chris chased her. “During the war women spies sent coded messages in knitting patterns. Isn’t that cool?” Vivi said to the empty living room. Behind Vivi, the rocking chair began to rock gently.

(Quick Note: My story takes place in a world where everyone is an animal/human cross- basically human, but with animal features such as ears, tails, whiskers, etc. This particular short story takes place in Cricetinae, the country of the Hamsterpeople.)

For once, Pebble was grateful for her odd-looking hair. She had approached the castle doors claiming to be a “new guard who’d forgotten her uniform”, and the real guards hasn’t suspected a thing! She had completely passed for a Winter White! Now she was strolling confidently through the halls of the castle halls, quietly slipping anything that looked valuable into her pouch when no one was looking.

Then, she found herself in a room full of nothing but running wheels. It was just like the room she’d seen in the Roborovski castle last year…..

For a moment, she hesitated, looking around cautiously. THIS was how she had landed one of the horde members in the castle dungeon last year, during her first heist. But then….. the horde wasn’t here. She knew they were outside, just on the outskirts of the woods and a short distance from the castle, waiting for her to return, but they weren’t HERE in the castle with her right now.

She remembered Boulder’s words to her before she’d walked to the castle. “Don’t screw up again, dwarf, because this time, the one paying for your mistakes will be you.” Guilt knotted in her stomach. The hamster she had landed in the dungeon had been Boulder’s sister, and it had all been because Pebble had been stupid enough to try out one of the running wheels in the Roborovski castle and alert the guards as a result.

But she was on her own this time. And the hamsters here thought she was one of them, not knowing that they had really allowed a European hamster with a genetic mutation that made her look just like a Winter White to infiltrate the place.

She looked around again. No one would know if she just…..

Before she realized what was happening, Pebble had hopped onto one of the wheels and was running as if for her life, a strange thrill and excitement coursing through her. It was so stupid, she thought; she knew the wheel was taking her nowhere, and yet she couldn’t help but continue. It just felt so good…..

“EXCUSE ME?! WHO ARE YOU?!”

Pebble immediately froze in place, causing her to rock slightly on the swinging wheel. A hamster had entered the room and was staring at her with a shocked expression. “What are you, a guard?! Don’t you know that this room is for the ROYAL FAMILY only?! YOUR room is downstairs, I-“ She stopped, her eyes widening. “You…”

Pebble stared back, hardly able to believe what she was seeing. This hamster….. she was IDENTICAL to her. The same snowy, silver-white hair, the same eye and face shape, even the same HEIGHT…..

A new look had come into the hamster’s eyes. “Snowdrop…..?” she whispered, the anger in her voice completely gone. “It’s….. it’s really you!” She threw her arms around Pebble, who blinked and quickly backed away. “What? What are you talking about? That’s not my name.”

“Oh, Snowdrop….. I’m your twin sister, Petal.”

Pebble laughed slightly. “I don’t even have any siblings, let alone a TWIN. You must be mistaking me for someone else. Besides, we can’t be related- I’m a European hamster, not a Winter White-“ She stopped abruptly. She wasn’t supposed to reveal that…..!

The hamster, Petal, laughed softly. “Really? A European hamster?”

“Yeah,” Pebble muttered. “I just look like this because of a genetic mutation.”

“Is that what they told you? Come on, Snowy, do you REALLY think a simple genetic mutation could make you look like an entirely different type of hamster?” She shook her head sadly. “The truth is, you were kidnapped by a hamster horde when we were just pups. Our parents searched everywhere for you, but were never able to find you. But now…..” She threw her arms around her again. “Now you’re here!”

Pebble stared at the floor, unsure of what to think. Was it true? Had the horde lied to her? Of….. of COURSE they had lied to her! They were a band of robbers who always treated her as an outcast! How had she never seen it before?

“But…..” Pebble- or rather, Snowdrop- murmured. “What now?”

Petal smiled. “Now, we tell our parents and get those horrible thieves in the dungeon.”