Zephyr yawned as he trudged into the kitchen and dropped into a chair at the table. "Morning, ma."

Flora turned and smiled at the young boy. "Morning, Zephyr."

Zephyr ran a hand through his blonde curls as he watched his mother bustle around. Silence sat comfortably in the room. Zephyr grew nervous as he gathered the words to speak.

After several minutes, he cleared his throat. "Ma... I've been thinking..."

Flora looked over. She raised an eyebrow in question but said nothing.

Zephyr took a deep breath. "I want to go to London."

Flora set down the bowl she had been stirring and turned to face him. "And why would you want to do that?" she asked slowly.

Zephyr became very interested in the wood table. "Well they have the Problem and gran said-"

"You are not going to fight ghosts, Zephyr." Flora crossed her arms. "I do not approve of that line of work. You'd never gain any success."

Zephyr looked up at his mother pleadingly. "I don't care about success, ma. People are dying because of the ghosts and I can do something. I can-"

"No."

"But-"

"ZEPHYR FERRIL WOODS!"

Zephyr fell silent. He gulped. This had been a mistake. He should have been more gradual, formed better arguments, maybe made some kind of chart? Would that have helped?

Flora took a deep breath before she sat down across from Zephyr. "Zephyr... I can't let you endanger your life. You can barely handle a cooking knife. What makes you think you can wield a rapier?"

Zephyr wilted. "But people are dying, ma. Dying. Every night someone gets killed. I could help."

"You will stay here," Flora said sternly. "You will stay here and help me and your brothers and sisters around the farm. There will be no ghost hunting."

Zephyr suddenly felt angry. He couldn't make her understand how he felt. "Ma I can handle it. I can learn. I'll save lives! I could learn to be a medic and-"

"Zephyr..." Flora's warning tone made Zephyr wilt even more.

He sighed and stood up, shoulders slumped. "I'm going to visit gran. I'll be back later..."

Flora watched as her youngest son left. Her eyes were sad. He was too young to be thinking about these things. It felt as though a crack had formed and an earthquake was on its way.

Zephyr returned several hours later. His siblings had all gone out to care for the animals. He walked into the living room where his mother sat knitting. His boyish face was set with determination as he sat down close to Flora.

Flora glanced up and immediately put her knitting aside. She knew that look he had on his face. "Zephyr, you're not going to be a ghost hunter."

Zephyr rubbed his fingers together. "Gran wants to take me to visit London. She said it's a beautiful city and she thinks I'd like it."

Flora became suspicious. "Your gran hates London."

"She told me she liked it."

"Did you tell her what you think you're going to do?"

Zephyr fell silent at that and Flora groaned. "If your father was here-"

"He'd tell me that I could be anyone I darn well pleased," Zephyr snapped. "He never tried to hold me back. He never forced me to do anything. He would have let me go to London."

Flora and Zephyr sat in hostile silence. The crack quickly became a chasm. Zephyr's idealism colliding with Flora's protectiveness.

Flora opened her mouth to speak, but Zephyr interrupted. "I leave in four days."

Flora's mouth dropped open. "You're... what?" Her voice was dangerously calm.

Zephyr swallowed and bit his lip. "I'm... leaving."

Flora's gaze hardened. "You're barely ten years old. You can't just up and leave."

"I can with the permission of one adult in my life." Zephyr stood. "I can't let people die, ma. You apparently don't understand what that feels like."

Before Flora could form any reply after the surprise, Zephyr had gone upstairs to his room. He ignored all of her shouting for him and blocked his door.

One week later

Zephyr looked around the large dining room. He still didn't know anyone except his trainer, Shale. He was starting to recognize people, but he didn't know names.

He noticed a tall, pale boy with hair as black as the midnight sky. He wore all black, as if he were in mourning. He had a pale scar over his left eye. He sat in the corner, alone, poking at his food with his fork.

Zephyr approached slowly. He paused next to the table. "Is anyone sitting here?"

The dark haired boy looked up. Surprise flashed in eyes the same shade of black as his hair. He looked away just as quickly. "No... go ahead." He had a strong accent. Zephyr was pretty sure it was Italian.

Zephyr sat down across from the older boy and smiled. "My name's Zephyr. What's yours?"

There was a long pause, long enough that Zephyr thought he wouldn't get a reply. The boy looked up, studying Zephyr's face. A faint smile reached the boy's lips. It was hesitant, as if he'd forgotten how. "Venn."

Zephyr grinned and brushed some of his unruly curls from his face. "Nice to meet you."

Venn tilted his head. His gaze was suspicious, searching. Zephyr gazed back, trying to look friendly. He could see that this lonely boy had been through a lot.

"You are the first person who has come up to me who hasn't been specifically ordered to be near me besides Shale," Venn said carefully.

Zephyr started to respond, but a shout across the room drew Venn's attention.

"HEY DRAKE! C'MON! WE HAVE WORK TO DO!"

Venn looked back down at his untouched plate of food before he pushed it away. He got up. He started to walk away, then stopped and looked back at Zephyr. "Thank you."

Zephyr didn't have the chance to ask what he was being thanked for before Venn was gone. He leaned back in his chair and watched the slightly slumped figure walk away. In that moment he made an internal promise.

Venn wouldn't be a castaway.