Once the adrenaline wore off halfway Rowanne learned the disadvantage of running on it. All the pain from the countless cuts and scrapes, and that agony from the gouge in her leg, were back with a vengeance, and it seemed that they were charging interest at a rate that would make a loan shark blush.

To add insult to the many many injuries, being too cold to shiver rated right up there with being too tired to sleep in the list of most unpleasant feelings, and right now she knew she would be suffering from both in the foreseeable future.

Still now the village wasn’t far, and Rowanne could see the colliery compound from here. If she was lucky she might even make it before some “kindhearted” individual told her sister the news of her tragic demise. That thought stung her heart as she dragged her weary carcass in through the compound gates and found herself surrounded by worried relatives desperate for even a scrap of news about their family.

“Now now, can’t ye see the poor lass is exhausted," Dorothy chimed in as Rowanne was wrapped in a blanket and a cup of hot tea pressed into her hands. "She’s shivering like a leaf poor thing, at least let her get sat down first."

Once Rowanne was seated it finally sunk in - she had made it. Tears she didn’t even know she was holding back started to blur her eyes as around her a few of the older ladies who had seen this before kept the crowd at bay and did their best to comfort her. What did they know? They hadn’t been there. She did her best to press down an anger that made no sense, but it seems they really had seen it before, as they kept their distance and dutifully delivered tea until she calmed herself.

Then it was time to explain to the others as best she could what had happened. As soon as the word Wyrmlings was raised, the concerned mutterings all around her seemed to reach a crescendo, and more than one person went pale. She hardly had to say any more; they knew as soon as that word came up that the chances of more survivors had just plummeted. Still they did their best to hold onto hope, and more than a few broke away from her to head back to the entrance to wait by the guards just in case.

Ever the optimist Enid piped up, “maybe some others made it out the same way ye did?” At that a few faces brightened a little.

“I pray they did,” Rowanne replied, “and if so ah hope Cutty gave them an easier time than he did me. He damned near got ous mair than once.”

In the stunned silence that followed the mention of Cutty Soams, you could have heard a pin drop, and more than half the crowd crossed themselves.

“ALREET YE LOT," bellowed Dorothy, pushing her way through the crowd to come to Rowe's aid once again, "an knaa you’re waiting for kin, but give the lass some room to breathe, it sounds like she’s been through mair than enough." This time, Dorothy had brought company - Rowanne was almost bowled over by an unexpected hug, and glanced down through blurry eyes to see Mary clinging to her like a limpet.

She took hold of her sister and held on as if her life depended on it as they both started to bawl. Thankfully the crowd was dispersing a little, not that she cared at the moment what they thought of her. Let 'em judge. All that was important to her right now was the little sobbing bundle in her arms and letting her know she was safe and well.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

It seemed like hours later when they had both finally cried themselves out. Her sister was a sensitive girl at the best of times, and the loss of their father was still fresh in her mind; when she was not at school, Mary followed her older sister around like a little duckling, and even when the other bairns were out playing she often refused to leave Rowe's side.

Guilt needled at Rowanne as she thought of all the risks she had taken to get home safe, but as far as she was concerned as she stroked Mary’s hair and made reassuring noises like their mother had done for her, it had been worth every gamble. She would have walked another mile in the dark without hesitation for this moment right here.

Just as she was enjoying this fleeting moment of peace the office door opened, and in walked bloody Jacob. Jacob was a hard person to describe, but the word brownnose more than sufficed. He was the bean counter who often showed up instead of the supervisor. In a faded and worn suit with tails that looked like it had seen at least one funeral from inside the casket, and a ratty old top hat, he considered himself quite the gent. Which was quite funny, given that everybody else who ever met him considered him an odious little weasel with fantasies of grandeur who probably thought his shit didn’t stink.

Without any hesitation Jacob pulled up a chair beside them and pulled out a clipboard, and Rowanne had to bite back the urge to punch the little rat right then and there. She was trying to have a moment with her little sister and had had quite enough without Jacob on top of it. But she liked having a job, so she calmly waited for him to speak.

“Now that you settled down, Miss Kervys,” you could actually hear his sneer at the Cornish surname, “I would like your incident report.”

“Alreet then,” Rowanne replied, dialing up the dialect just because she knew it annoyed him and there was nothing he could do about it. She knew it was petty but it was Jacob, and it was that or deck him one. “Ah was off doon a side seam, hewing, when the glennies went blue oot in the main seam. Ah didna have a weapon tea fight and was ordered by aud George tea stop doon there till ah was sure it was clear. Ah didna see the fight, but the main seam was nea longer safe after the fight, and given that rescue would na be likely ah did what I had tea. Were ye aware that we’d accidentally knocked intea Cutty’s turf?”

At the mention of that monster Jacob went even paler than usual and furiously crossed himself, and her sister somehow managed to cling to her even tighter than before.

Since there was no more information that was relevant to the incident the rest of the report was handled quickly.

“Now if ye divvent mind ah would like to take some time with mi sister to recover and deal with things.” Rowanne said.

“Very well,” replied Jacob. “Then you have the day off tomorrow to recover. We will expect you back on shift the day after; it is most unfortunate but we cannot spare the manpower at this time for a longer break”.

The door practically burst open at that moment as a familiar figure barged in. “How strange, if memory serves union regulations entitle the victim in incidents where more than 5 fatalities are likely to have taken place and in incidents involving Sidhe interference and injury to a recuperation period of 7 days. I know I did not just hear you, mister Jameson conspiring to deprive a worker of their legal rights in the aftermath of a large scale incident”.

Jacob sputtered and tried to form an excuse, while Rowanne felt her heart lift, Charles was Mister Robson's man for the miners association, Jacobs sneaky little stunts were far outmatched by that.

“Also, ah didna come out of there empty handed, ah encountered these,” Rowanne carefully fished the Wyrmbone shards from her pouches, and neatly stacked them on the desk. She could see the wheels turning in what passed for Jacob's greedy little mind as he sputtered out an estimate that would barely have been enough for that weight in purple.

“Now now, Mr Jameson, we both know that this isn’t just a few pieces of clinker, so while Miss Kervys and her sister head to the backroom to rest and recuperate, you and I will have a little talk. Then you will go and get your scales, and your loupes and we will check the quality and weight together, all neat and tidy.” The grin on Charles' face, as he shooed her away, was almost ear to ear at the thought of getting one over on the likes of Jacob.

She was just glad to get the hell away from Jacob, and now she knew he was being watched she was happy to go. She barely made it to the room and the cot bed in the corner before she was fast asleep, still clinging to Mary. Who didn’t seem to mind in the least.