6 December, 1894 — Hillicker Tree Farm

Ezra had forgotten who had suggested this, which was a shame; he would have liked to have circled back and chided them for it afterwards, given how things were going. He was here for the boy, Cecilia's child, who was still barely speaking to anyone and still not sleeping through the night and still throwing tantrums at the slightest inconvenience. He was here because everyone who knew something about children assured him this was all Very Normal for a child undergoing trauma, and that he simply needed to give the child time and space to adjust. He was here because someone, now forgotten, had suggested a warm, cozy holiday would help speed things along. Why not take him somewhere festive? You know, do something like a family? they had said. So he had. Here he was, out in public with the boy for the first time since his mother and father had been eaten by a mysterious pit in Padmore Park, and neither of them were having a good time of it.

He had started off sulky; this had changed to a kind of childish mania as they'd gotten into the crowd and the lights and sounds had overwhelmed the boy. He had cried and wailed until Ezra, not knowing what else to do, had bought a cocoa and thrust it into his hands as a distraction. Then he had burned his tongue on the cocoa and cried some more, until Ezra, at a loss once again, bought an oversized marshmellow and practically stuffed it into his mouth. That had sustained him while they started off down the rows of trees, but he wasn't responding to any of Ezra's questions about which ones he liked. Ezra was about ready to pick a tree at random and give up on this failed outing, when the boy suddenly darted away from his side.

"Wait, wait," Ezra called, while the boy ran heedlessly away. Did he even hear Ezra when he spoke? He ducked sideways, off the path and through a pair of pine trees. "No, don't — you have to stay on the path," he said as he picked up his pace, but he couldn't reach the boy before he'd gone through. The trees were too close for Ezra to follow him the way he'd gone. He started to mumble a swear word under his breath and caught himself on the first syllable, cutting off instead — with his luck, the boy would hear that, though he'd ignored all of Ezra's directions prior.

"How do I get through here?" he asked the nearest person he could, with a wild gesture at the rows of trees. If they didn't know, he wasn't above cutting one of them down to barrel his way through. Losing Cecilia's child clearly was not an option.

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The countdown to Harmony's debut was like a clock ticking down towards Lydie's doom. There would be no further finances put towards her marital success once she had a younger, more eligible sister on the market, as the Gambols simply couldn't afford it. She had hoped something would have come from all her efforts this summer, but when nothing substantial materialized Lydie realized her doom was far nearer than she was allowing herself to believe.

The Season wasn't entirely over yet though, for there were countless Christmas festivities to attend. Lydie had seized upon every available option — even going as far as to invite herself to one or two of Willa's invitations without asking — with renewed vigor. She wasn't meant to be a governess or whatever other employment options would be made available to her. She was meant to sit in parlors and whisper over cups of tea!

The tree farm, although pretty, was too cold for Lydie to thoroughly enjoy. Her younger siblings were here ... somewhere, and Mama was negotiating the cost of a tree far grander than anything they still owned. Which left Lydie free to wander about as she wished. Or, so she would have done had the man not approached her so desperately.

See, the issue now was Lydie's terrible sense of direction. She'd been walking through the aisles just long enough to have lost sight of the stalls that she was (mostly) certain remained behind her. "I think you head back that way, Sir." Lydie said with some concern, gesturing behind her and to the right. "Are you well? Can I summon someone for you?"

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Ezra glanced in the direction she indicated, stomach sinking. The rows of trees seemed to stretch on forever without any break. Surely they hadn't walked that far? It seemed an insurmountable distance with a tiny child in tow. It was certainly too far to be of use to him. Even if he sprinted, getting all the way down and then all the way back was more than enough time for the boy to have disappeared entirely. Why had he run off? Was he trying to get away from Ezra, and if so to what end? There clearly couldn't be any grander plan at work here; he was hardly old enough to have coherent thoughts, much less schemes, and living in the Christmas trees for the rest of his life was not a sustainable arrangement. But Ezra wasn't sure if the boy wanted to be lost; he might not come if Ezra called for him. He certainly hadn't seemed to react to Ezra telling him to wait.

"No," he told the young woman. He meant no, no one you can call, but didn't actually specify which of her questions he was answering. He got to his knees and ducked his head under the bottom boughs of the nearest tree, squinting through the brush and looking for feet.

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The no was answer enough because he was obviously unwell, if not bordering upon a lunatic. Her brows furrowed as he began looking under the trees and she too bent to look under one as though something (or someone?) was going to leap out and startle her. The branches pricked at her skin through her gloves, causing what she was certain would be a rash later. "What exactly are you looking for down here?" She eventually asked after looking under a second tree.

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No feet. This was a bad sign. Ezra eyed the underbelly of the tree, wondering if he could manage to squeeze below without breaking the branches. He'd have to crawl, and his suit would be ruined for the day, but it would clearly be faster than going all the way to the end of the aisle and then back up.

"A child," he muttered. A hellion, he might have said, but that was probably unfair to the boy. He'd been through a lot, as everyone kept saying — but Ezra had been through a lot, too, and he was currently going through the ordeal of possibly losing his nephew on a farm, so was not feeling especially gracious.

"I'm go—" going to crawl through, he was about to say — why he was explaining himself to the young woman who had just happened to be wandering by at the wrong moment he didn't know, but he'd clearly confused or alarmed her, so maybe he thought she was owed some warning as he prepared to do another entirely ridiculous thing. Before he got the words out, though, he heard a rustle from his left and shot his eyes to that side, catching a glimpse of a shoe. "There!" he said, pointing, for all the good it would do. "Come out here! That's no place for hide and seek!"

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Lydie began searching in earnest when he mentioned looking for a child. It should have occurred to her sooner, but it was so insanely cold that it was difficult for her to envision any child wanting to climb up the trees. She drew her wand to send up a flare for help, only to pocket it once more when the distressed man began yelling at the child.

She caught sight of the boy scamper under another tree further from where the man was trapped beneath the tree. "He went this way," Lydie said before following after him. The boy was either snickering with laughter or crying, but which couldn't possibly be determined without seeing him. Which meant touching the itchy branches and relying upon the boy to not run again.

Lydie bent down low enough to peer under the tree and smile cautiously at the child. "I think I saw a fairy a few rows back. Would you like to go see it?" It was a risky thing to invite a strange child to do an activity with a strange adult, but Lydie wasn't nearly as willing to crawl under the tree as his father was.

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Ezra hadn't been sparing much thought for the woman after his initial inquiry, but as he scrambled back out from under the tree he'd started to wedge himself under he was grateful she was still here — without someone else keeping an eye out, he surely would have lost track of the boy again. As it was she seemed to have tracked him fairly well, and was now crouched down speaking softly to him. Ezra approached cautiously, still ultimately unconvinced that the child had run off on a whim rather than having intentionally run away from him. Maybe she would have a better time coaxing him out if Ezra was out of his line of sight.

A fairy? That was an intriguing source of bribery — would it work better than the marshmallow? He couldn't see the boy's face from where he was standing, and didn't dare creep any closer until he knew whether or not it had worked. He held his breath, and the tree rustled — the boy took a hesitant step back out into the aisle.

Over his shoulder, mere inches away, a shadow.

Ezra took a quick step forward and scooped the child up in his arms, holding him tightly while the boy let out a squeal of surprise and protest. He looked back to the tree line and — it was just a typical shadow, not the kind that had been haunting him half his life. The child in his arms burst into incomprehensible tears. Ezra shifted, unsure what to do next but entirely convinced that if he put the boy down he would immediately run off again.

"Thank you," he told the girl, having to raise his voice slightly to be heard over the boy's wailing.

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Grabbing the boy like that was a bit excessive, though perhaps he'd run off countless times already and was inclined to do so again. The poor thing seemed intrigued by the fairies too, which Lydie was still willing to show him but doubted the manic man would allow it. She was still gently smiling at the boy (who's shrill cries were threatening to burst her ear drums) as she replied, "you are welcome. He was excited to see the fairies. Maybe you'll find some on your way through."

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Whatever magic the girl had been able to leverage to coax the boy out of the trees was falling flat now. She was still smiling at the child, but for his part the boy seemed entirely insensible to her. Ezra could not imagine even fairies would be a suitable diversion to pull him back to reality at this point. He squirmed in Ezra's arms and he had to shift his hold on the boy to avoid dropping him.

"Yeah, maybe," he agreed, politely enough for all he found the idea of stopping and trying to distract the child once more inconceivable. The boy had never wanted to be here in the first place and had been entirely unconvinced by the premise of selecting Christmas trees. Why make him linger longer when they were both having a terrible time? "Thanks again, miss."

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