CHAPTER 2: THE LANGUAGE OF FEAR
Copper pots hung from iron hooks overhead, their dull surfaces catching weak streams of sunlight. Eleanor slumped against a wooden cabinet, her small frame curled inward as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
I shouldn't have cried like a baby. Big girls don't cry. Her shoulders shook. Mom wouldn't want me to cry. Dad wouldn't… Her throat tightened again at the thought of her father and she breathed heavily through her nose until the feeling passed.
A soft sound drew her attention. Puck hovered at eye level, his yellow-striped fuzz glowing gently, glassy, beetle eyes watching her with open concern.
"Go away." Eleanor pulled her knees tighter to her chest.
Puck's glow shifted to a deep violet, dimming. He swooped down, landing on her knee with such lightness she barely felt his presence.
Don't look at me like that. She turned her head, but Puck fluttered into her line of sight, antennae twitching. There was a moment of mutual staring, before he broke away, seemingly incapable of remaining still for that long. Puck zipped through dust motes that swirled in the sunbeams cutting through grimy windows, creating tiny eddies in the golden light. His cheerful whistling noises echoed off the walls as he wove between the hanging cookware.
"You're silly." A weak smile tugged at Eleanor's lips.
Puck's glow brightened to pink again and he performed a loop-de-loop before investigating a particularly large stock pot. He flittered inside only to jerk back dramatically when his movements stirred up more dust. He sneezed — a sound like the tiniest tuning fork being forcefully struck — and tumbled backward through a shaft of light, sending sparkles dancing through the air.
The floorboards creaked beneath Eleanor as she shifted, watching the fairy-like creature's antics. Her tears had dried, leaving salty tracks on her cheeks and Eleanor wiped them away with her sleeve, watching Puck's aerial display until a thought suddenly occurred to her.
"How can you talk?"
Puck paused mid-flight, his glow dimming slightly. "What do you mean?"
"Animals don't talk, at least, not with words." Eleanor straightened against the cabinet, less emotional now that they were discussing scientific facts. "But you're speaking English."
"I am?" Puck drifted closer, antennae waving about. "I just... open my mouth and the thoughts come out." His pink glow flickered. "Though I suppose I don't have much of a mouth."
"Where did you come from? Did my dad send you?" Eleanor leaned forward intently.
"I— I don't know." Puck's light shifted to a deeper purple. "My first memory is waking up moments before I saw you. Everything before that is..." He spun in a small circle, wings sagging. "Empty."
The kitchen's vastness pressed down on them in the silence after his words.
"I thought someone kidnapped me at first," Eleanor whispered. "Brought me to this house while I was sleeping." She traced a pattern on the tiled floor beside her. "But there are paintings of my father as a child. And that study upstairs... it's definitely his. I just don't understand why he'd bring me here and leave."
"You're scared." Puck's voice was soft, a whisper across the space between them.
"Aren't you? Not knowing anything about yourself?"
"I know I want to help you. That feels real, even if I don't know why." Puck's glow brightened slightly as he settled on her knee again.
Eleanor studied the tiny creature. His wings shimmered in the diffused sunlight, and despite his miniature form so unlike her own, she felt an odd sense of kinship with him. Here in this empty house they only had each other. And after all, they were both very small.
"At least we're both children," Puck chimed, unknowingly mirroring Eleanor's train of thought. "We can figure this out together!"
"I'm not a child. I'm almost ten years old." Eleanor's spine stiffened. It was one thing for her to think it, but that didn't mean he could just call her a child like that.
"Oh! I didn't mean—" Puck's glow shifted to a sickly yellow as he backed away through the air. "I just thought, since I'm new at all this and I'm learning things too—"
"I don't need someone to hold my hand." Eleanor pushed herself up from the floor, brushing her pants off. "I can take care of myself."
"That's not what I..." Puck's wings drooped, his voice trailing off as his glow dimmed further.
Eleanor turned away, but caught her reflection in one of the copper pots. Her mother's eyes stared back, gentle and understanding even in the warped surface. She remembered how Mom always said wisdom came from listening, not speaking. She closed her eyes to escape the memory and forced herself to take a calming breath like she'd been taught. Emotions more under control, she turned to face Puck.
"I shouldn't have snapped at you."
"No, I spoke without thinking." Puck's yellow glow edged back toward pink. "You're right — you're not just some little kid. You're brave and smart and funny and a very good leader, exploring this whole house without being scared."
"I am scared though." Eleanor's voice softened. "I just don't want anyone treating me like I can't handle it."
"Being scared is okay." Puck drifted closer. "I think it just means you're facing something important."
Eleanor considered this, then slowly raised her hand, palm up in an unspoken offer of truce. "Partners?"
Puck's glow brightened to a brilliant, sparkling pink as he landed on her palm, his touch lighter than a snowflake. "Partners."
He said it in such a serious tone, so unlike his normal goofiness, that it sent a shiver down Eleanor's spine. She straightened up a bit taller and gave a serious nod, determined to honor their vow.
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They must have awoken in the afternoon for it seemed like the better part of the day had already passed in exploration. Eleanor had briefly discovered a door which she thought led outside, but it was locked in a manner she couldn't undo, stuck fast no matter which deadbolts she turned or how hard she pulled. Not overly eager to leave the safety of shelter for the vast wilderness she'd glimpsed from the bedroom window, she turned inward and continued her mission of mapping the house.
Eleanor shifted her weight from foot to foot, a familiar pressure building that she'd been trying to ignore for the last hour. The bathroom they'd discovered earlier loomed in her thoughts — all exposed copper pipes and strange Victorian fixtures that looked more like torture devices than plumbing.
"Are you okay?" Puck circled her head. "You're doing an awful lot of moving around."
"I'm fine." Eleanor crossed her arms, then uncrossed them. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"Nothing." She glanced down the hallway toward where the bathroom waited. The claw-foot tub had been bad enough, with its rust-stained porcelain, but the toilet... She wasn't even sure if it would work after all these years.
"You keep looking down the hall. Did you want to explore more rooms?"
"No, I..." Eleanor pressed her lips together. How did one explain certain biological necessities to a magical creature that possibly didn't even need to eat? "I need to use the bathroom." She couldn't hold it any longer, and they began the trek back upstairs, retracing the path to the facilities.
"Oh! I'll come with you."
"No!" Her cheeks burned hotly. "I mean, this is something I need to do alone."
"Alone? But we're partners. We agreed," he whined.
"This is different. Humans need... privacy sometimes."
"Privacy?" The word seemed to puzzle him, his glow shifting through a muted array of colors. "What's privacy?"
"It means being by yourself for certain things." Eleanor rubbed her temples as the pressure in her bladder continued to grow. "Personal things."
"But why would you want to be alone?" Puck's wings beat faster with genuine distress. "I was alone before you woke up, and it was awful! Why would anyone prefer that? And what if something happens? What if you need help?"
"I won't need help in the bathroom, Puck." Though looking at the ancient bathroom fixtures again, she wasn't entirely sure about that.
Copper pipes snaked up the wall like the exposed root system of some ancient, metal plant. Some kind of low, porcelain pot with a built in stool seemed to be the toilet. A wooden box mounted near the ceiling was connected to the porcelain bowl, and a long chain dangled from the wooden box.
Unable to deliberate any longer, Eleanor shooed Puck out and shut the door against his continued protests. With barely a moment to spare she took a chance and used the toilet, relief washing over her so strongly she sighed. It felt a bit vulnerable disrobing, even partially, in this unknown place and in her haste to redress she didn't even mourn the lack of toilet paper.
She stood, considering the wooden tank and its long chain, before deciding this must be the method to flush. Standing on her very tippy-toes and reaching as far as possible, she grasped the greasy metal chain and yanked three times, each with more effort, but no result.
"Are you okay in there?" Puck's muffled voice carried through the door.
"I'm fine!" Her fingers traced the pipe joints, searching for some hidden lever or mechanism. "Just... figuring things out."
"Your voice sounds strained. Should I—"
"No! Stay there!" She rattled the chain again. Water gurgled somewhere in the walls, but nothing happened. "Come on, you stupid thing."
"I heard a noise! What was that noise?"
"It's just the plumbing, Puck." Eleanor grabbed the chain with both hands and pulled hard. The wooden box creaked ominously.
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"What's plumbing?" Puck asked fretfully, tiny face pressed against the crack beneath the door.
"Pipes and water and- argh! Never mind." She kicked the toilet's base in frustration and the resulting clang echoed loudly throughout the bathroom.
"Eleanor!" Puck's voice pitched higher. "That sounded like danger!"
"It's not—"
Puck zipped through the gap beneath the door in a streak of alarmed yellow light, wings buzzing like an angry hornet.
"I'll save you!"
"Puck!" Eleanor's face burned as she grabbed for him. "Get out!"
He dodged her hands, zooming around the bathroom.
"Where's the danger? Is it the metal snakes on the wall? The white throne? That strange water bowl?"
"There's no danger! I just need privacy!"
"But you're trapped in here with all these weird things!" He bounced off the mirror in his frenzy. "And you were making frustrated noises!"
"Because I can't figure out how to—" Eleanor pressed her hands to her face. "Please, just go wait outside."
"But we're partners!" Puck's glow shifted rapidly between concerned pink and anxious yellow. "Partners don't abandon each other in rooms full of mysterious plumbing! I'm sure of it!"
Eleanor sighed, realizing she'd have to set her dignity aside and explain things to Puck if she ever wanted privacy again.
"Look, this is called a toilet. It's for... human waste." She blushed furiously, determined to seem mature and not at all embarrassed by discussing something as natural as going potty. "Things like going pee, or poo. It takes those things and carries them away, but it needs water to—" She yanked the chain again for emphasis.
The wooden tank groaned. A rush of rust colored sludge suddenly burst from the wooden tank, cascading down and missing the bowl entirely, splattering across the floor. Eleanor yelped and jumped back, slipping on the mucky tiles. She grabbed the nearest copper pipe to steady herself, which shifted with an ominous groan.
"The monster attacks!" Puck zoomed in frantic circles, his yellow glow casting wild shadows. "Quick, use your warrior skills!"
"It's not a monster!" Eleanor's grip tightened as more pipes rattled. "It's just old plumb—"
The pipe burst free from its mounting, sending a geyser of rusty water toward the ceiling. Eleanor shrieked and ducked, while Puck darted through the spray like a deranged firefly.
"I'll distract it while you escape!" He charged the water stream head-on, only to be blown backward with a squeaky "Oof!"
Eleanor couldn't help it — she laughed. The sight of the tiny creature, his fuzz plastered flat against his body, looking utterly bewildered as he spun through the air, was too much.
"You look like a wet dandelion!"
"And you look like a drowned... um... what's that word for the furry things that live in trees?"
"A squirrel?"
"Yes! A drowned squirrel!"
Their laughter echoed off the bathroom walls as Eleanor sloshed through the puddles towards the doorway. She held out her hand and Puck landed, still dripping. The residual water pressure that had powered the initial blast was spent and the hanging pipes quickly dwindled from a torrential spray down to slow, trickling drips, plopping rhythmically on the wet tiles below.
"So this is what humans call 'privacy'?" Puck's glow shifted back to pink as he preened his wings, seemingly calm now that they were leaving the bathroom. "I can't imagine why you're so obsessed with it. It doesn't seem pleasant at all."
"Well, normally there's less flooding involved." The sound of dripping water echoed off the tile walls, before cutting off into silence as she closed the door behind them. "But yes, some things humans prefer to do alone."
"Even though the water monster might attack?"
"The plumbing isn't really a monster. It's just pipes that carry water where we need it. Although these ones definitely needs fixing."
"Oh." Puck's antennae perked up with interest. "Is that why humans build these strange rooms? To control the water?"
Eleanor smiled gently, shrugging. "Something like that."
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Eleanor's stomach growled as if to emphasize their arrival in the kitchen once more. She pressed a hand against her middle, realizing she hadn't eaten since... when? Her last clear memory of food was a dinner with Dad, back in Oregon.
"That sounded like thunder!" Puck commented with naked curiosity.
"Just hungry." Eleanor pulled open another cabinet door. Empty, like all the others. "There has to be food somewhere in this place."
"What's hungry?"
Eleanor lectured briefly on how bodies used food to create fuel to do practically anything, and implied that most living things needed to eat to survive. She searched the kitchen while she spoke, hoping to find something left behind that was still edible, but she turned her body to watch Puck from the corner of her eye after she finished. Did he need to eat?
"Oh, fooood. So 'hungry' is when you want to eat food. Wow, there really is a word for everything! I've been hungry all day but I haven't had a word for it until now."
It turns out he did.
A door beside the ice box caught her eye, looking different from the cabinets, sturdier. She grabbed the brass handle and tugged revealing stone steps descending into darkness.
"A cellar!" Her voice echoed down the stairs. "Old households kept food preserved in these."
"I'll light the way!" Puck's glow brightened, illuminating the first few steps.
They discovered rows of shelves lining the walls, most bare except for cobwebs. Eleanor's fingers traced labels on dusty glass jars, squinting in Puck's pink light.
"I can't read any of this..." She lifted a jar, examining the contents. The fruit inside looked whole, the liquid clear, sloshing around as she shook it. "But they are still sealed. These might still be good."
"How can you tell?" Puck landed on the jar's lid, his antennae twitching.
"The seal isn't broken, no bubbles..." Eleanor was able to remove the lid with a show of effort, and she sniffed it carefully. Sweet peachy scent, no sour or rotten odors. She dipped a finger in the syrup and tasted it cautiously, her tongue lighting up with a punchy, sweet flavor. "It's okay!"
"You're very brave, testing something from a glass jar like that."
"Haven't you eaten preserved food before?" Eleanor fished out a sliver of the fleshy fruit. It almost tasted like a peach, but the longer she chewed the more she felt it was something she'd never eaten before.
"I..." Puck's light dimmed. "I don't know. I can't remember eating anything before today."
Eleanor paused mid-bite. "How old are you?"
"Hours?" Puck circled the jar thoughtfully. "Since I woke up when you did. But I feel like I know things, like what some words mean, but not others. I have no idea why."
"You're not hours old," she scoffed, "because if you were only hours old, you'd be a brand new baby! Babies can't talk and don't know anything about anything yet." Eleanor chewed another piece of the fruit thoughtfully, as she considered Puck. "You knew what a squirrel was earlier. And you've been making nature comparisons all day — like when you said my hair was the same color as the bark of a tree."
"Maybe I just... picked those up?" Puck's flickered uncertainly. "From watching you?"
"But I never mentioned trees. Or squirrels. And you knew what they were right away."
"Well..." His antennae twitched as he searched for an explanation. "Perhaps I learned from the dust motes! They've been everywhere in this house, collecting stories."
"Stories from dust?" Eleanor crossed her arms, fighting back a smile. "And how exactly would dust teach you about animals?"
"They float around and contain bits of everything!" Puck zoomed in a loop, trailing pink light. "Like tiny libraries!"
"Then how do you know what a library is?"
"The... spiders told me! In their webs."
"The spiders." Eleanor's eyebrow arched. "And I suppose the cobwebs taught you how to talk?"
"No, that was clearly the floorboards." Puck landed on her shoulder, his glow brightening. "They're very smart, floorboards. All that walking on them, they pick up lots of things."
"And I suppose the clock taught you how to be ridiculous?"
"Don't be silly." Puck's voice took on a scholarly tone. "That was obviously the work of the windows. They see everything, you know."
A snort escaped before Eleanor could stop it. "The windows?"
"Oh yes. Very wise, windows. Though not as wise as curtains — they're the best at keeping secrets."
"Let me guess: The paintings taught you about art?" Eleanor gestured, taking another bite of the fruit and letting Puck drink some of the syrup from the lid.
"Actually, that was the dust bunnies under the bed. They're quite the cultured bunch. Did you know they write poetry?"
"Poetry?" Eleanor nearly choked on her laugh, pounding her chest with a cough.
"Oh yes! It's very important to them." Puck swooped dramatically through the air. "They wear tiny glasses made from dewdrops and recite poetry about the fascinating lives of lost children."
The mental image of dust bunnies in glasses was too much. Eleanor burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the cellar walls. Her shoulders shook as she tried to contain herself, but each time she looked at Puck's earnest expression, it set her off again.
"You're ridiculous." She wiped tears from her eyes. "Absolutely ridiculous."
"The dust bunnies would be very offended to hear that." Puck landed on the jar's rim with a dignified sniff, his glow pulsing with joy. "They take their poetry very seriously."
Eleanor slid down to sit on the cellar steps, clutching her sides as she laughed. The weight of their situation — the strange house, the limited food, all of it — seemed to lift just a little.
"I'm glad I met you, Puck." She offered him a tiny droplet of syrup on her fingertip. "Even if you do make up the silliest stories."
Puck's glow brightened to the most brilliant pink yet as he dipped his long mouth in the sweet liquid. "And I'm glad I met you, Eleanor," he said lofitly. "Even if you don't a know as much as me."
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Eleanor lingered in the bedroom doorway, her fingers gently gripping the wooden frame. Night had crept in while they ate and exhaustion now tugged at her limbs. Puck's glow dimmed to match her weariness, casting soft pink shadows across the floor.
The thought of sleeping in this unfamiliar room made her stomach twist. It had all started here, in this very room. Her eyes drifted to the mirror, then snapped away.
"The gramophone room," she whispered, more to herself than Puck. "It had those cushioned chairs."
Puck bobbed in silent agreement. He drifted ahead, his light cutting through the darkness like a beacon.
Moonlight filtered through tall windows, painting silver squares across their path. Eleanor's footsteps fell quietly on the runner carpet, while Puck's wing beats created the softest whisper in the still air. Each shadow seemed to reach for them, but Puck's steady pink glow kept the darkness at bay.
They passed the bathroom door and Eleanor quickened her pace. The family portrait watched their progress but she kept her eyes forward, focusing on Puck's comforting light. When they reached the junction where the hallway split, she hesitated.
Puck swooped low, illuminating the floor. Dusty footprints — their own from earlier — led the way to the gramophone room. Eleanor followed their trail, her shoulders relaxing with each step toward familiar territory.
The door creaked softly as they entered. Moonlight spilled through the bay windows, illuminating the room in a way that robbed it of color, giving Eleanor the brief impression of having stepped into a black and white film. The overstuffed chairs waited like old friends, their worn velvet peeking out beneath their dust covers, catching Puck's glow in gentle ripples.
The quiet wrapped around them like a blanket as Eleanor closed the doors behind them, and for the first time since waking in this strange place Eleanor felt something close to safe. Not one to waste time, she pulled at the heavy cloth covering what looked like a settee, intent on uncovering some furniture to rest on for the night. The fabric resisted, clinging stubbornly to the furniture before releasing in a whoosh. She sneezed as dust particles filled the air.
"Look!" Puck darted through the air, his pink glow creating strange patterns in the cloud. "The dust bunnies are having a party!"
Eleanor smiled despite her fatigue.
Together they tackled the second cover - Eleanor pulling while Puck flew to the opposite corner, tugging with surprising strength for being not much bigger than a thimble. The cloth slipped free to reveal a matching fainting couch, its burgundy velvet faded but intact.
"Perfect for a nest!" Puck zipped between the two pieces, trailing pink light. "This one for sleeping, and that other one for... more sleeping!"
Eleanor gathered the covers, shaking them out the bay window. Silvery clouds billowed in the moonlight before dispersing into the night air. Her arms felt heavy as she folded the cloths, movements growing slower with each fold.
Puck helped by grabbing corners with his feet, though his own flight path had begun to drift and weave. When he nearly collided with a lampshade, Eleanor caught him gently.
"Careful there." She stifled a yawn. "The dust bunnies wouldn't want their favorite poet getting hurt."
"Can't disappoint my fans," Puck's replied sleepily, as he settled on her shoulder. "They would never forgive me."
They arranged the folded covers into a makeshift pillow and finally Eleanor sank onto the furniture, its springs creaking softly. The surface was cool against her skin as she curled onto her side. Eleanor pressed against the fabric with her hands, creating a small hollow in the folded cloth beside her head, and pulled the other dust cloth over herself like a blanket.
"Here, your own little nest."
Puck circled the space drowsily before settling in, his wings folding against his striped body like delicate foil paper. His pink glow softened the shadows around them, barely brighter than the moon streaming through the bay windows.
"It's perfect." He chimed softer now, heavy with sleep.
Eleanor tucked the edge of the cloth to create a windbreak around him. Her movements grew slower, more deliberate, as fatigue settled deeper into her bones. The cushion beneath her felt impossibly soft.
"Eleanor?" Puck's whisper barely stirred the air.
"Mm?"
"I'm glad the dust bunnies introduced us."
"Pretty sure that's not how we met."
"No?" His glow pulsed gently with each word. "Maybe it was... the curtains then..."
"Go to sleep, Puck."
His only response was a tiny yawn.
The gramophone's horn caught the moonbeams from the bay windows and scattered them, casting silver patterns that danced across the ceiling. Eleanor watched them through half-closed eyes, letting her breathing fall into rhythm with the cadence of Puck's gently pulsing light. Each pulse grew fainter, longer between beats, like a music box lullaby winding down.
Her last conscious thought was how the air smelled like home - old books and worn wood, with just a hint of Puck's honey-sweet presence beside her. Then sleep claimed them both, guardian and ward, while moonlight kept its silent vigil.