One minute Ever and Life were rolling in the grass, their laughter like that of a pair of crazed songbirds. The next minute, wind had ruffled the grass, and they were gone.

Life would always swear that she felt someone touch her right before they transported, but no one would listen to her. No one but Ever.

The two small, ethereal children looked around them, feeling confused and scared. The scene around them was nothing like the peaceful Faeriewood, nothing at all. The air reeked of iron and coal dust was floating around in black clouds, filling their lungs with the sooty stuff.

“Ever?” Life squeaked, looking around for her friend, searching the comfort of his wide, leaf-green eyes. He looked as terrified as she felt, and she grabbed his hand quickly, her small body trembling in time with his as they stood.

“What do we do?” she asked him, cowering from a passing automobile. People were staring at them in amazement. Human people.

“We hide. Right now,” Ever replied, slinking backwards into the nearest shadowy spot, his eyes darting to the small girl at his side. She was much too conspicuous with her gauzy wings, the iridescent material sending spectrums of reflected light dancing across the ground in the sun. Her eyes were a little strange, too, but no one would notice unless they came close, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Life, can you glamour yourself? Just to hide your wings, maybe?” he asked, meeting her teary-eyed gaze; she was crying with fright.

She nodded feebly and squeezed her violet eyes shut. Ever could feel the glamour tingling in the air around her, and watched with mild relief as the wings faded from view. They were still vague shadows in the air, but it would do for the moment. He reached over to her to loosen the grass-fiber cord around her hair, combing it down over her pointed ears.

“It’s hard here,” she murmured, her eyes opening slowly, a small, grape-juice colored tear trickling down her cheek. That was another strangeness they would have to deal with; purple tears. His tears were green, but he didn’t cry all that much, so it wouldn’t be a problem. He wiped away the moisture, cupping her small face in his small hands.

“I know it’s hard. We’re not in the Faeriewood. Everything is different here. Try to keep that glamour up,” he murmured, wiping away another tear before dropping his hands to his sides. He closed his eyes, concentrating on covering his own oddities: the pointed ears, the knife-like incisors, the thorns jutting out from his elbows.

Life was right; it was hard. It took a lot to concentrate on the little ball of illusion-magic in his head, and even more to form it into a human-shell glamour.

Life watched, blinking away the rest of her tears, stealing herself for whatever lay ahead; she could not afford to be bursting into tears at every turn. Even though she was young, she knew how important maintaining oneself under duress was, and she fought for control as Ever glamoured himself.

They exchanged a few more words before edging out of the dark shadows, their hands clasped tightly, eyes darting everywhere. Life noticed that the human’s eyes were very flat and stupid looking; there was no flash of amusement, no glint of mischief in the shallow brown irises. They all looked the same. The uniformity frightened her endlessly, even more than the towering buildings around them, even more than the trundling vehicles on the roads or the horrible stench of iron or any of it. There was no individuality.

Little did either of them know at the time, that they had not only been thrown into another part of the world; they had been thrown into another era. In the Faeriewood, it had been 1998, not that the year mattered much to the immortals living in the secluded civilization. It was simply an inescapable fact.

The children had landed in London, England, right in the middle of September, 1893.

-

They walked for what seemed like hours, neither quite knowing what to do, what to say. Life’s stomach growled; Ever’s throat burned. Both felt the seeds of iron-sickness seeping under their skin. People kept staring at them; it was no wonder, seeing how plain everyone else was. The children looked like two angels on the damp pavements. A faint glow was radiating from both, though Life’s was more radiant. A few people glimpsed a pair of glittering wings attached to her back, doing double-takes only to find that they had imagined them there.

Ever was trying to stay calm, but he could feel panic starting to rise in him. He tightened his hold on Life’s tiny hand, beginning to move faster in his anxiety.

“Ever?” she whispered, stumbling along behind him. They were moving against the foot traffic, and she kept having to squeeze through already closed spaces behind him, tripping uncharacteristically on the uneven sidewalk.

“Yes?”

“You don’t know what to do, do you,” she whispered again, and he looked at her quickly, his expression grim. It started to rain, and they stopped in a doorway before he replied.

“No, Life, I don’t know what to do. This isn’t something they ever prepare you for in school,” he murmured, pulling her close to still her tremors as the horror of their situation sank in.

She buried her face in his chest and he rested his cheek on her head, inhaling the light rosemary scent rising from her damp hair.

“Then what do we do?” she asked, her voice muffled.

“I don’t know,” he replied, closing his eyes as they held each other, feeling lost.

After a while, they started walking again, moving against the traffic, clinging to each other as the rain soaked them. They stepped off the off the sidewalk into a large park-like space. Ever’s eyes flickered towards the sign marking is as “Trafalgar Square.” It didn’t ring any bells. Of course.

The crowd was thicker here, a mass of black umbrellas as people moved quickly to the shelter of restaurants or their houses. It was hard to get through the people, but they tried anyway.

As they slid between two tall, blank-faced men, Life tripped, finally falling to the ground, her hand slipping out of Ever’s. A wall of people got between them, and the panic finally took him. He could hear her voice rising above the crowd, shouting his name repeatedly. He called back, trying to fight through the crush of people towards the small voice. His struggle proved fruitless as someone pushed him back. He fell in a puddle, eyes filling with tears as the water weighted down his clothes. He could not feel when the green liquid brimmed over, but someone passing gave him an alarmed look, muttering to his neighbor about “green water” as the flat eyes passed over his face. Without a thought, Ever called on his true magic, pulling a ball of the power from the core of his thoughts with difficulty; it had gotten harder since the glamour earlier.

The boy drew even more shocked glances as he began to glow, a faint green-yellow light surrounding his small form. Then he was gone, and the wall of men was so baffled that they did not see the small, green bird darting over their heads. He found Life quickly, cringing at the purple liquid dripping from her nose and chin, mixed with the rain. Someone was bent down, talking to her, and she was just staring, eyes wide with terror. Ever sang out, and she shifted her gaze, seeming to let out a held breath at the sight of the finch-Ever.

“Ever!” she yelled, jumping forward with her hands held out. He landed in the cup of her palms, making soft cheeping noises. She heard his quiet attempts at comforting and raised the bird to her face, kissing the top of his small head softly. The man was watching curiously.

“Do you want some food?” he asked, eyeing her as she wiped her face, her hand coming away purple. She was strange; intriguing.

“I guess I’m hungry… “ she mumbled, looking at him in a scared way, not sure if she should refuse the food or not. She turned her eyes back to Ever, and by the look on her face, he figured he should get himself back into his ‘human’ form. He reached out to tug on the mass of true magic, trying to pull away a strand of energy. It wouldn’t budge. He tried again to no avail. Again. And again. And still nothing. He let out a loud, unruly finch sound, and Life’s eyes widened.

“Uh-oh,” she said, knowing only too well what the alarm in his bird voice could mean. “It’s not working.”

He cheeped again, twitching his wings anxiously, thinking through his options quickly. If they were in the Faeriewood, he would just go to his father and he would be changed back. Unfortunately, they weren’t in the Faeriewood. His options came to a whopping total of zero.

He reached out, prodding the walls of Life’s mind with a thought-tendril, like he was knocking on a door. She let him in.

I can’t change back, Life. Accept the food from the man; it’ll get us out of the rain at least. Don’t let go of me or let me get out of sight. If I fly off, I want you to follow right behind me, understand? She nodded, biting her lip.

“I would like some food, thank you,” she whispered, hoping the man could hear her. He did, and he held his umbrella over her, guiding her to an unremarkable building. They walked up the stairs, and he turned the doorknob, not noticing the girl wince as his skin came in contact with the metal. The bird twitched as well, the movement giving away his hidden discomfort.

“Arthur?” someone called from down a hallway. The man called back, pulling off his coat and handing it to a servant along with his wet umbrella. The servant was staring curiously at the damp little girl, his eyes lingering on her strange violet eyes and the green bird in her hands.

If I tell you to run away from this house, Life, I want you to do it, alright? We might not be able to trust these people.

Life nodded faintly, following the man down the hall tentatively. He turned to watch her edging forward, offering a kind smile of encouragement. There were enticing scents drifting from the closest doorway, the one he was waiting in. She stepped through into a big, bright kitchen.

“Oh!” someone said, and Life turned to look at the kind faced woman standing by an oven, her hands curled around a tray of what looked like baked ham. Life’s mouth watered.

“Who is this?” the woman asked, looking at the little girl closely before turning her gaze to her husband.

“I found her crying in the square. She was alone, and she said she was hungry when I asked. I think she’s lost,” he replied, glancing at the girl’s ruffled hair and dirt-smeared frock.

“I… well… alright. She’s quite pretty, isn’t she,” she said, returning her gaze to the girl. She set the ham down on the counter, moving closer. The woman crouched in front of Life, and the girl moved back quickly, eyes wide. The small bird in her hands hopped up her arm to her shoulder, eyeing the woman with one beady eye.

“What’s your name, darling?” the woman asked, meeting her terrified gaze. “My, you have the prettiest eyes I have ever seen,” she commented abruptly, leaning closer to examine the purple irises.

“Thank you,” Life muttered, flushing crimson.

Give your name, I think. They haven’t tried to harm you yet, and your name won’t get them far. Oh, don’t give your full name.

“I know,” she snapped abruptly, turning her gaze on Ever, glowering. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”

Yes, yes, I know. But do try not to talk to me; I don’t think humans talk to birds very often.

Life turned back to see the man and woman looking mildly concerned. She tried to smile, but with the stress on her shoulders, she didn’t quite think she managed.

“My name is Life, and my frie-bird is Ever,” she said, stuttering to say “bird” instead of “friend.” If humans didn’t talk to birds, they probably wouldn’t understand animal friends.

“Lifyuh,” the woman repeated, eyebrows furrowing. “That’s an odd name.”

“And Ever,” Life prodded, happy at least that the woman had pronounced her name correctly. When she spoke Ever’s name, it sounded like “Eyebhear.”

“Lifyuh and Eyebhear,” the man murmured, eyeing the girl, his curiosity growing exponentially. “Do you know how to spell your name?”

“I can do it with paper and charcoal,” she replied, looking at Ever hesitantly. “I don’t know what the letters are called, though.”

The man, Arthur, moved to get a sheet of stationary and a pen, setting it on the table for her. She looked at him, and the woman told her she could sit on one of the chairs to reach the table. Life climbed onto a chair, rising onto her knees, taking the odd pen in her hand. It wouldn’t write when she tried, and the man had to show her how to dip it in an inkpot.

She spelled out her name first, writing L-I-F-E carefully before doing Ever’s name. E-V-E-R.

“Life? Isn’t that pronounced Life, darling?” the woman asked.

“No. You got it right the first time. Lifyuh,” Life replied, her voice sure.

The two adults nodded, glancing at each other quickly before moving into action. The woman called a servant in, asking him to run down to the tailor’s and set an appointment before it closed for the evening.

Before long, Life’s stomach was full of the best human food, though it paled in comparison to the meals in the Faeriewood; their baked ham was a thousand times better. She said as much to Ever under her breath, pursing her small lips prissily.

Beggars can’t be choosers. And, trust me Life, right now, we are beggars. Now sleep. You’ve got bags under your eyes.

They were both upstairs in a well-proportioned bedroom. The bed was big enough to fit ten Life sized people in side-by-side, and the sheets were quite soft, though, yet again, she had experienced better in the Faeriewood.

The kind couple, who had identified themselves as Arthur and Jane Kingston, had lent her one of their young daughter’s nightdresses, though the white cotton shift was still rather big on Life’s tiny body. They had also offered to get a cage for Ever, but Life had refused vehemently, wincing from the sound of Ever’s loud refusal echoing through her head.

“I’m not tired,” she stated, stifling a yawn. It was obviously a lie, but Ever could understand that she didn’t want to sleep; it was bound to be disorienting to wake up in a strange, unfaerie world. He still could not believe that they had been sent back in time over a century, as he had figured had happened from the general antiquated speech patterns of their rescuers, but the larger problem was that he wasn’t quite sure where England was on a map of the world in relation to the Faeriewood. He knew his home was somewhere in America, presumably the northwest, near the coast, but England was something he had only heard of in stories of humanity.

The finch sighed, and Life eyed him quietly.

“How long do you think it will take you to change back?” she asked. He tried to shrug indifferently, only to remember that his shoulders now had large, feathery appendages attached to them. After resettling his viridescent wings, he turned his beady eyes on the girl.

I’m not sure. All I can hope is that, with some rest, I’ll be able to summon enough energy to pull some truemagic out.

“So your truemagic isn’t working? That’s the problem?”

Yes. You could try yours, if you want, but I somehow doubt that yours will work either. I think being this far from home must create some sort of blockage around that part of our brains or something of the sort.

Life was still staring at him. For a boy of ten, he thought in ways she could not yet comprehend, though she was far from stupid. He was, after all, three years her senior; she was not meant to understand everything he said.

On his suggestion, she tried to pull at the core of truemagic. Nothing happened, and her eyebrows furrowed, her minute features wrinkling in concentration. After a minute, she gave up, letting out her breath with an aggravated sigh. She fell back on the pillows, her hair spreading out around her head. It was ferociously tangled, and she tried to run a hand through it to no avail.

You’ll have to do something about your ears. You can’t keep your hair down much in this society; the public eye frowns upon it.

She wrinkled her nose and rolled over to watch him hop up the bed. The bird pecked her gently on the nose, and she smiled sadly.

“I miss home,” she said, pulling the covers up to her shoulders, sighing as Ever fixed a nest in the golden curls of her hair.

Me too.

--

Author's Note:

This will (eventually) be a multiple-chapter story, though I've yet to really figure out what will... you know, happen next.