The Peregrines

Chapter 39

{ Edited - 1st May, 2024 }

As I opened my eyes, the first thing that greeted me was the twinkling stars above. However, my initial sensation was not pleasant at all - it was an intense pain that engulfed me. Along with it, I felt a terrible urge to vomit. Acting swiftly, I turned to my side just in time to release the contents of my stomach, which happened to be water. Once I thought I was finished, I returned to my previous position, only to find Enoch standing beside me.

"Guys, she woken up!" Enoch called out.

I suddenly sat up, feeling the intense burning sensation in my head, but when I caught sight of the lighthouse and its bright light, I couldn't tell which hurt more - my eyes, my body, or my head. "Kid, Jesus, not that fast, slow down," Enoch said as he placed his hand on my shoulders.

"What happened?" I asked as I looked up at him.

"Well . . . Many things. You hit the ground, fell off a cliff, plunged into the water, and didn't resurface. I swam to you, pulled you out, did CPR on a boat, brought you back to shore, and kept doing CPR while the group made plans. I even thought you were gone at one point, so I left. But then you woke up, and here we are!" Enoch explained briefly.

"Good news, you killed Golan!" Jake said as he squatted beside me. I glanced down, grinning, and realized my ankles had completely healed. I attempted to rise to test my ability to walk, but to my dismay, I couldn't feel a thing and ended up wobbling on my feet.

"Oh my god, no, don't stand up!" I heard Emma's voice. As I was on the verge of toppling forward, Enoch swiftly caught hold of my elbows while I clutched onto his arms for stability. "What were you thinking back there!?" Emma asked.

"Well long story short, I tried to protect you all from harm by taking a risk and hurting Barron. Unfortunately, this led to me getting shot in the ankles, but ever since I struck myself . . . I must've healed myself at the same time," I tried to explain.

"Aw, look at you, already trying to protect us!" Enoch teased.

"I heard you guys were forming a plan according to Enoch," I said, ignoring Enoch and changing the subject. "Plan about what exactly?" I asked.

"We kinda ran into trouble," Hugh jumped in.

"What kind of trouble," I asked.

"Miss Peregrine seems to be badly injured to the point where she can't turn back to her normal self," Hugh explained.

"Oh..." I said as I gazed at the bird, it seemed so calm and content while sitting on Fiona's hair. Great, of course, my mother survives the shenanigans.

"Maybe she's too tired and cold," Claire suggested, and a majority of the group thought it made sense, so we all agreed to head back to the house, tend to Millard with the supplies we had, and pray that after some rest, the headmistress and her loop would go back to normal.

* * *

As we made our way up the steep trail and along the ridge, it felt like we were a group of battle-worn soldiers. We walked in a line, heads lowered, with Bronwyn holding Millard in her arms and Miss Peregrine perched on top of Fiona's hair like a nest. The scenery around us was marked by smoking craters and scattered earth as if a massive dog had been digging there. Although we were curious about what awaited us at the house, none of us had the courage to inquire.

We already knew the answer before we even finished clearing the forest. Enoch stumbled upon something with his foot, prompting him to bend down and take a closer look. It turned out to be half a charred brick. Panic ensued as the children started sprinting down the path. Upon reaching the lawn, the younger ones burst into tears. Smoke filled the air. The bomb had not landed on top of Adam's finger as usual; instead, it had split him in half and exploded.

The back corner of the house had transformed into a collapsed and smouldering wreckage. Within the burnt-out remains of two rooms, small fires flickered. In the spot where Adam had stood, there now lay a gaping hole, deep enough to bury someone standing upright. It was now effortless to envision the future of this place: a sorrowful and violated ruin, just as I had stumbled upon it weeks ago alongside Jake.

Miss Peregrine jumped out of Fiona's hair and started darting around on the burnt grass, making loud squawks of distress. "Headmistress, what happened?" Claire said. "Why hasn't the changeover come?"

Miss Peregrine let out a piercing screech in response. She appeared just as bewildered and scared as the rest of us. But she seemed off, I couldn't understand a word she said. Perhaps broken English? "Please turn back!" begged Claire, kneeling before her.

Miss Peregrine flapped her wings and leapt around, appearing to be exerting herself, yet she couldn't change her form. The kids gathered close, worried. "Something's wrong," Emma said. "If she could turn human, she would've done it by now."

"Perhaps that's why the loop slipped," Enoch suggested. "Remember that old story about Miss Kestrel, when she was thrown from her bicycle in a road accident? She knocked her head and stayed a kestrel for a whole entire week. That's when her loop slipped."

"What's that got to do with Miss Peregrine?"

Enoch sighed. "Maybe she's only injured her head and we just need to wait a week for her to come to her senses."

"A speeding lorry's one thing," Emma said. "Being abused by wights is quite another. There's no knowing what that bastard did to Miss Peregrine before we got to her."

"Wights? As in plural?"

"It was wights who took Miss Avocet," Jake said.

"How do you know that?" Demanded Enoch.

"They were working with Golan, weren't they? And I saw the eyes of the one who shot at us. There's no question."

"What are we talking about?" I was curious because I couldn't recall seeing a group of Wights as the children were describing.

"Things happen when you were unconscious, and they are the things that you don't want to know," said Emma.

"Then Miss Avocet's as good as dead," said Hugh. "They'll kill her for sure."

"Maybe not," Jake replied. "At least not right away."

"If there's one thing I know about wights," said Enoch, "It's that they kill peculiars. It's their nature. It's what they do."

"No, Jake's right," said Emma. "Before that wight died, he told us why they've been abducting so many ymbrynes. They're going to force them to re-create the reaction that made the hollows in the first place—only bigger. Much bigger."

"Yeah, I heard that part," I said.

I noticed a sudden gasp from someone nearby. The rest of the people immediately went quiet. Curiously, I scanned the area in search of Miss Peregrine, and there she was, sitting sadly on the rim of Adam's crater. "We've got to stop them," Hugh said. "We've got to find out where they're taking the ymbrynes."

"How?" said Enoch. "Follow a submarine?"

Horace caught our attention as he cleared his throat loudly behind us. We quickly turned around to find him sitting comfortably on the ground, with his legs crossed. "I know where they're going," he said quietly.

"What do you mean, you know?"

"Never mind how he knows, he knows," said Emma. "Where are they taking her, Horace?"

He shook his head. "I don't know the name," he said, "But I've seen it."

"Then draw it," I said.

After a brief pause, he stood up with some difficulty. Dressed in a ragged black suit, he resembled a beggar preacher as he made his way to a pile of ash that had fallen from the damaged house. Bending down, he scooped up a handful of soot and started painting on a broken wall under the gentle moonlight.

We all gathered together to witness the spectacle. He skillfully created a series of striking vertical stripes, adorned with delicate loops resembling bars and razor wire. Adjacent to this captivating artwork stood a mysterious, dense forest. The ground was covered in a blanket of snow, depicted in a mesmerizing shade of black. And that was the entirety of the scene.

After completing the task, he stumbled backwards and plopped down heavily on the grass, his eyes filled with a vacant expression. Emma softly placed her hand on his shoulder and spoke to him. "Horace, what more do you know about this place?"

"It's somewhere cold."

Bronwyn took a step closer to examine the markings that Horace had created. "Looks like a jail to me," said Bronwyn.

Olive commented while staring at the ground. "Well?" came her voice. "When do we go?"

"Go where?" Enoch said, tossing up his hands. "That's just a lot of squiggles!"

"It's somewhere," Emma said, turning to face Enoch.

"We can't simply go someplace snowy and look for a prison." Enoch snapped.

"And we can't very well stay here."

"Why not?"

"Look at the state of this place. Look at the headmistress. We had a damn good run here, but it's over."

Enoch and Emma engaged in a lengthy debate, going back and forth on their opinions. The situation divided the people around them, with each side taking a stance. Enoch's viewpoint was that they had been isolated from the outside world for too long, and if they were to leave, they would be in danger of getting caught in the war or falling prey to the hollows.

He believed it was wiser to stay where they were, as they were familiar with the surroundings and could better navigate the risks. On the other hand, the opposing group argued that the war and the hollows had already reached their doorstep, leaving them with no other option. They feared that the hollows and wights would eventually come back for Miss Peregrine, and possibly even for themselves. The safety and well-being of Miss Peregrine herself were also a significant factor to consider.

"We'll find another ymbryne," Emma suggested. "If anyone will know how to help the headmistress, it'll be one of her friends."

"But what if all the other loops have slipped too?" said Hugh. "What if all the ymbrynes have already been kidnapped?"

"We can't think that way. There must be some left."

"Emma's right," Millard was lying on the ground, using a piece of broken masonry as a pillow. "If the alternative is to wait and just hope—that no more hollows come, that the headmistress gets better—I say that's no alternative at all."

The dissenters were eventually convinced to reach an agreement. The decision was made to leave the house behind and pack up their belongings. They planned to borrow a few boats from the harbor and use them to transport everyone in the morning. Curious, I asked Emma about their navigation plans. It dawned on me that none of the children had ever left the island in almost eighty years, and Miss Peregrine couldn't speak or fly.