It felt to daisy like Fen had been speaking for hours. He had knocked out and refilled his pipe several times. She was not as comfortable underground as the Wran and had difficulty reckoning the passage of time. Or perhaps it was the sheer volume and breadth of information Fen was sharing with her that was so disorienting. She was overjoyed to hear that he felt certain Torv was still alive and running, but the feeling was immediately replaced by a tightening of her stomach, a gnawing sense of unrest settling there for the foreseeable future while Torv’s whereabouts and wellbeing would be unknown. Hope is a dangerous thing; far easier it would have been to assume him dead and get on with the grieving process.

-I’m still not sure I understand, Daisy said in the spirit of honesty.

-What is it you don’t understand?

-How you could know so much. How you could be so sure it’s The Islands that are after Torv. Torv and I have never left Luxan, much less The Mainland.

-I know it.

-Then how do you know? What could The Islanders want with him?

Fen sighed deeply as he took a pull on his pipe to find that the coals had gone cold. He tucked it away in his vest and leaned forward in his chair, locking his single eye on Daisy.

-The only folk allowed on The Islands that aren’t natives are the Wran.

-There are Wran on The Islands?

-There were Wran on The Islands. Until recently. We were all expelled four seasons gone now. I’m sure you know that Wran traditionally live underground. This is what leads to the more...colorful nicknames above ground folk like to give to my kind. Centuries back, before The Partition that led to the formation of The Islands, Islanders knew they couldn’t make it on their own.

-But I thought...well rather I’d heard that was the whole point of the partition. Wasn’t it?

A raspy cough that may have begun as a laugh escaped Fen, although his eye showed no sign of mirth and did not leave Daisy’s face.

-Ah yes. How could I forget? The Islanders, a superior sort of people, knew they had to live alone from the rest. It was in the best interest of all parties, as surely the existence of a superior peoples was worth preservation by a simple separation beneficial to all parties. Only small scores of Islanders would stay behind on The Mainland to help maintain order among their inferiors.

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Fen’s voice had changed during this sarcastic, little speech. Gone was his tense rasp, and in its place a mellifluous oratory dripping with venom.

-It does sound rather silly out loud.

-Most lies do, Fen said. But no, the Islanders did not entirely do it alone. Nor can they as surely you know. You seem a clever girl. Tell me.

-Well...Daisy hesitated. I suppose. Well I’ve heard my mother say that they should grow their own...bleeding corn.

-Smart woman, your mother, no doubt. It’s true. The Islands can grow some things, but not all. They rely on Mainland crops taken as tribute. But even on The Islands, they didn’t go alone. From the very beginning, Wran lived and worked beneath the towns and cities of The Islands.

-Doing what?

-We were record keepers mostly, librarians. You know how Islanders are about the sun and fresh air and all that muck. Needed folk to keep their records, prophecies, things of that nature. While they may not like to be underground, books and papers certainly do.

-We? You mean…

-Yes, I lived most of my life off the Mainland though I was born not far from Umlea.

-I…

Daisy was cut short by Fen’s hand, clapped over her open mouth. He held a forefinger to his lips as he gently let go of Daisy's mouth. Don’t move he mouthed to her, as he walked towards the stairs. She pulled on her ears as a curious ringing filled them. She wondered if something had happened to her hearing, but it was only silence that she heard. The disconnect was in what her eyes saw, but ears could not pick up. Fen was walking up stairs that she knew squeaked. She’d heard Torv run up and down them dozens of times to grab something or other, but Fen was moving in absolute silence up the stairs. His clothes did not rustle; his feet made no sound in contact with each step, and his breathing was inaudible. Daisy became suddenly hyper aware of the sound of her own breathing, the creaks of her joints, and all the human sounds usually beyond her own notice.

Just as quickly, the silence was broken by a deafening crack from upstairs. Fen was back in a moment, ushering her up.

-We have to leave. Now. Do you mind if I?

Before she could answer, Fen hoisted her off the ground and carried her on his shoulders. Together, they were nearly silent, although her own breathing could not match his. At the top of the stairs, Fen stepped over a body. Daisy saw little in the dark save a pair of dark boots and a rapidly-expanding pool of blood running slowly away from the body. The Wran opened the door to Torv’s house, ducked his cargo underneath the door, and they sped off into the night, nothing but a shadow moving through the fields and towards the trees.