Cool air slipped into the log cage, and Kaley hugged her legs to herself, tracing a missing island on her knee with a finger. Far in the distance, a creature howled at the moon. “Maybe you were never rescued by the fairies because you were always meant to be rescued by someone else,” she said, bringing Lucas’s attention back. Something strange crossed the Patrolman’s face. He stared off, a finger lifting to brush the scar on his face.

New snow puffed o’er the walls, sprinkling upon their canvas of drawings. The fork and spoon made their return, plummeting into the snow between their feet. A time again, the pair took the utensils and hurled them to carry on the game.

“Lucas,” Kaley said.

“Darling?” His voice was quiet, but he offered his lovely smile.

“I have to ask more of you than to just find the island,” she admitted.

“Is that so?” Lucas drew out the pearl button again, rolling it along his fingers to imply what it would cost her. Though Kaley would not kiss him for that preposterous button, the action threatened to make her laugh.

“If we get out of this disaster, I need to go to the White Kingdom border,” she said.

Lucas made a peculiar face. “A good measure of self-declared saints have made that walk, Trite, but they don’t always like what they find. What’s muddled your soul?”

Her gaze cast to where the fork and spoon had disappeared over the wall. “I need to fix something I broke.”

“Ragnashuck, Trite.” Lucas rubbed his eyes. “Don’t you ever get tired of scheming?”

“Not when it comes to something like this. So, will you come with me?”

“Well. Frostbite, alright.” Lucas shoved the button into his pocket. “Why not?”

“And I need to see that note you stole from Eliot Gray,” she added. “You can’t hide it from me forever.”

Lucas shifted in his seat. “Ah. That scotchy, little thing.”

“Why haven’t you shown it to me?”

“Well, because at first I thought Eliot wrote it about you. But now I’m certain he wasn’t thinking of you at all.”

Kaley’s brows tugged in. “Lucas, if you don’t show me, I’m just going to wait until you’re sleeping and steal it from your pocket.”

But Lucas snorted a laugh. “Good luck finding it!”

“Lucas,” she pleaded.

“Yes, yes, darling.” He reached into a concealed pocket and drew out the folded slip of paper. Kaley had to admit, she never would have found it there had she gone snooping.

She took the note, but Lucas held onto it a pinch longer. When her gaze flickered up, the topaz of Lucas’s eyes dipped to rust-gold, but he released the paper, and Kaley unfolded it.

The note was not a sonnet or a letter, rather, it was a simple word:

Trite Trite Trite Trite

Trite Trite TRITE TRITE

TRITE TRITE TRITE

TRITE