If Joe had a penny for everytime she had this acute urge to wham someone upside down, she’d be filthy rich by now. Then she’d have packed up and left the Winsten manor ages ago and opened up some dingy bar in a shady alleyway to live a frugal, stress-free, Patricia-Winsten-free, shitty-engagement-free life.

Such things were not to be, unfortunately, so Joe had properly filed away that whimsical dream in a remote corner of her brain. She’d revisit it many times later on lazy afternoons, quiet evenings and chilly nights, when she’d lie flat on her back in that thrice-damned, feather light bed and stare at the ceiling of a room that never belonged to her in the first place.

Right now, Joe had no such luxuries. She was busy scrambling away from the hooded figure and the pair of bright, blue eyes that was watching her movements like a hawk.

“YOU —!”

The figure stood up abruptly and pointed a shaking finger at her. Joe almost shat in her pants. She stumbled back in panic, whipped around and found Nero coolly staring back at the figure with his signature poker-face.

Oh, right. Sometimes she forgot that there were very few things in this world that could surprise Nero. Mysterious hooded figures with blue eyes were not one of them.

Apparently, hooded figure was just as surprised as she was, because he marched out of the shadows with a constipated expression and jabbed a finger near her face. If Joe wasn’t so freaked out by his appearance, she would have grabbed the offending appendage and snapped it in half.

“Y—You’re that girl from Riseindell!”

He had a whiny, high-pitched voice, and definitely not that of a full-grown man. Joe gulped once, twice and then peered into his face beneath the hood. It was a young boy in his early teens, with pale hair and a face full of freckles. His wild, blue eyes were set upon her with an accusatory frown, but she could see a hint of fear in them.

In short, Joe concluded that he was just as rattled by her appearance as she was. Now that she saw him up close, he wasn’t intimidating at all. So she squashed away her fear and looked down at him with all the indifference she could muster.

“Ah, yes. And so?”

The boy sputtered, obviously not expecting that reply. “Whaddya mean ‘And so’?! I’m asking what’re you doing in here?! Don’t tell me that you followed us all the way to this place!”

Joe scoffed. Who did he think he was? “We did not.”

“LIAR!” The boy stomped his feet like a child throwing tantrums. “I saw you spying at us near the Central Market of Riseindell! Quit your excuses! What do you want, HUH?!”

Joe would have stepped back like a sensible girl if she was skeptical of this boy, but she wasn’t. Why, in fact, it seemed as if the boy was more skeptical her. And she wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity, no sir. Joe crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at him tersely.

“Pointless observation. I was merely looking around.”

“What? WHAT?! Who the hell looks around the market in the dead of the night?!”

“Clearly I do. Now shut up, brat.”

The ‘brat’ let out an impressive screech, which might have surprised Joe once upon a time when she was less prepared. But she had seen her fair share of angsty, loud-mouthed teenagers in her previous life. For such puny bodies, they had egos the size of a mountain. Not that she could complain. Joe was one such dumbass teenager once upon a time, and consequently knew the most effective way to deal with them.

She plunged two fingers in each of her ears in an attempt to drown out the indignant screech. “LOOK! WE ARE NOT STALKING YOU, YOUNG MAN!” Joe yelled over the noise. “WE’VE GOT BETTER THINGS TO DO! STOP SCREAMING!”

“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, THEN?!” The boy yelled back.

“IF YOU’LL JUST LISTEN – !”

The volume of the scream turned up even higher, if that was possible. Joe wanted to bash her head against the wall. What the hell was wrong with this idiot?!

Stolen story; please report.

She strode over towards the boy and whacked him across his head.

The hideous screech ended with a hiss of discomfort. There. Finally her long, long, long, looong urge was satisfied.

The boy doubled over in shock and clutched his head in agony. “WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!”

“Calm down now.” Another voice chimed in. Joe almost jumped up in surprise; she hadn’t seen the second hooded figure in the shadows of the room. The figure stepped out towards the lantern light, about a head taller than the boy and a tad more intimidating.

“I had checked for any followers all the way from the Capital.” His voice was surprisingly soothing, like lazy melodies strung together in the most haphazard way. “They certainly haven’t been following us.”

Joe felt a smirk tugging at her lips. “There you go, brat.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Of course, brat.” She waved her hands dismissively, suddenly feeling a lot more refreshed now that there was another idiot in the room with the same wavelength in idiocy. Bubblebirds of a feather flock together, or so would people say.

If Nero was a proper, responsible adult, he’d have made a timely intervention and stopped Joe from riling the boy up further. But he wasn’t, and so he merely stood back and observed the fun.

The boy apparently had had enough, because he marched forward unceremoniously and smacked her head with a resounding slap.

“Hah!! Did you think that I’m an idiot?!” He looked down at her triumphantly as Joe wheeled back in pain. The offending finger was back at her face. “Go on! Try to hit me! Bwahahaha!”

She grabbed the finger with frightening accuracy and twisted it over till he screamed bloody murder.

“OUCH! Ouch! Let go!” He fought against the grip uselessly. “Let go dammit!”

Joe huffed and stood up. Did a brat nearly half her age just try to smack her willy-nilly and gloat over it? Cocky little shit! She let go of the finger and watched in satisfaction as the boy cradled his hand and sent nasty looks at her.

“Didn’t anyone tell you that pointing is rude?”

A bulky fist slammed down on both their heads simultaneously and there was a collective chorus of ‘OUCH!’s and ‘HEY!’s. Joe stumbled back with unsteady steps and saw stars swimming over her eyes. She wanted to think of it as a beautiful little dream, but the pounding pain in her head unkindly suggested otherwise.

“And what do we have here?” Came a menacing growl, and Joe felt a shiver up her spine. It was Ted Hawkins, back from the stables with a very pissed off look in his eyes. “What part of ‘Don’t try anything funny’ do you not understand, hmm?”

The boy recovered first. “How dare you sneak up on me, huh? HUH?” He yelled furiously, and all Joe could imagine was an angry rooster cawing at a large bloodhound. “Don’t treat me like a child, dammit!”

“This is my house, brat. I’ll treat you however I want.” The man was staring at them pointedly. “I leave you idiots for a minute and when I come back what do I find? Two silly youngsters squabbling and fighting like spoiled children!”

“UGH!” The boy turned away in a huff, and Joe could almost see steam blowing out of his ears in embarrassment. She suddenly remembered her own predicament. They didn’t come here to pick silly fights with delusional brats. She turned to look at Nero apologetically, but her companion was watching her with a smug grin on his face.

That bloody tease!

Joe scratched her head awkwardly. It was one thing for an actual teenager to act like a grouchy teenager. But she was an adult who’d already grown out of her adolescent immaturity. It was hideously unbecoming of her. But then again, Joe couldn’t remember the last time she felt so refreshingly carefree.

Teenagers had it real nice. They could fool around and be act like arseholes without a care in the world.

“My apologies, Mister Hawkins.” The second hooded figure spoke up from his place. “I should have intervened and stopped them.” The lazy look in his eyes suggested that he wouldn’t have bothered either way.

The brat must have realized it too, because he mumbled something like “Liar” and wheeled around to face Joe once again. The constipated expression was back on his face.

He glanced questioningly at Ted. “And who are these people anyway?”

“They are Oren and Joey.” The man said with a sigh. “They were ambushed by the mountain bandits near the Grimm Canyon. From what I understand, they came to this village looking for treatment of their injuries, isn’t that right?”

Nero nodded with a smile. “If you don’t mind, Mister Hawkins, what is the condition of our horse? The wound isn’t too serious, is it?”

“About that.” Ted Hawkins turned towards them with a grim look on his face. “The wound isn’t that deep, but I doubt you can continue your journey with that horse. The terrain doesn’t really get any better, and it’s not a road you can cross with a horse that isn’t in its prime condition.”

Joe visibly deflated at the news. There went any hope to continue this journey. Not only did those thrice damned bandits delay them as much as they did, the bastards injured Merlin and screwed up any hope for reaching the Witch of the West now.

The boy must have sensed her despair and come to the much needed conclusion that they weren’t lying after all, because he ‘hmm’ed and ‘huh’ed for a while and paced the room thoughtfully. Eventually the pacing stopped and he scratched his head over the hood. Joe suspected that he was trying and failing to act nonchalant. She’d have laughed at the scene if her own situation wasn’t so depressing.

Perhaps they could convince Hawkins to lend them his other horse in that stable?

“Bah! You should have said so earlier!” The boy interrupted her thoughts and plopped down on a chair with a huff. “And here I thought that they were some petty thugs trying to break into your house!”

“Petty thugs would normally barge right in and knock you out, you know?” Hooded figure no. 2 added serenely. “They wouldn’t go around trying to rile you up all silly.”

“I wasn’t riled up!”

“Will you SHUT UP and play NICE?!” Ted Hawkins bellowed, and the walls rumbled. Joe winced at the volume. No wonder his cottage was kept away from the rest of the village. She sighed in disappointment. Ain’t no time to be making enemies when she needed his help.

The girl walked up to hooded boy and held up a placating hand. “My apologies for going too far with all that. I am Joey. Let bygones be bygones, yes?”

The boy eyed her suspiciously. “What bygones?! You smacked my head just five minutes ago!”

“Ah, yes. And you hit me right back, as I recall.” Joe plastered a patient smile on her face. “So we’re even, yes?”

“NO! YOU STARTED IT DAMMIT!”

‘And I’m trying to end it, you buffoon!’ Was what Joe thought, but she kept smiling instead. If she opened her mouth right now, there will a flood of colourful insults in this sacred cottage.

“My niece means it, young man.” Nero played along. “You’re so awfully nice and matured. Won’t you let those trivial things slide?”

He must have said something correct, because the boy puffed out his chest and gave a short laugh. His blue eyes were shining with pride. “Weeeell, since I am so matured and generous, I will forgive you just this once. Little miss Joey.”

Ah, yes. Entitled little snowflakes in their own little bubbles. Joe nodded with the most gracious smile, even though her facial muscles were cramping up like crazy.

The boy shook her hands vigorously. Surprisingly enough, he seemed like someone who didn’t hold grudges. Oh, how Joe envied that. She was pretty sure she’d still punch the face of that one girl who’d stolen her idea back in their seventh grade project assignment.

She turned her attention back to the menace at hand.

“And may I know who you are?”