hear that.
You said it out loud, said House Builder. The girl who smelled of honey and smoke nodded.
There was a war planned by underground children, said Thaddeus. Itâs against February. Or is it against you. I shouldnât have called it off. Should I have called it off. I need to get back to town. And Thaddeus headed to the door.
Please, said House Builder. I know you wonât understand this, because I believe itâs impossible to understand, but Iâm not the cause of the townâs troubles. Iâve been pushed to the edge of town. Look back to the two holes in the sky. Thatâs where the problem is. Or the problem is willpower and what you think you can control. I, for example, got labeled February and my wife here as a girl who smells of honey and smoke. Such nonsense. How awful.
When Thaddeus opened the door, it was snowing again and the trees were coated in ice. He ran back to the town as fast as he could, tripping and falling several times. He screamed in torment, his face pressed into the hard snow.
Â
The girl who smelled of honey and smoke
Â
woke up before February each morning. Sheâd crawl out of bed and walk through the darkness of the unfinished home and sit down at a wooden desk where sheâd click on a small green lamp. She would read through the stacks of papers, the fragmented paragraphs, the half sentences and abandoned dialogue, and finish these lost riddles to her liking. A long time ago, she showed Bianca the sun. Yesterday she told Thaddeus to walk back to the house of a man wrongly accused of being February to ask more questions. She supplied the blacksmiths with the tools to build a ship. One by one she revived the children buried underground after February kidnapped them, and she was the one who dropped the scraps of parchment from the sky that Thaddeus and the War Effort collected. The girl who smelled of honey and smoke told the children nursery rhymes and supplied them with lanterns as her hands carved out the maze of tunnels. There, there, she said, hushing them to sleep under thick winter blankets, their bodies huddled against a curve in the tunnel. And deep inside their dreams, she fed them the images of a final War Plan against February. There, there, she whispered, tucking the squares of parchment under their pillowed heads.
Â
Thaddeus called a meeting with the War Effort.
Â
I apologize to everyone, he said. The past weeks I believed it was spring when in fact the attacks from February have never been worse. I believe we should go on a full-scale attack against February. He doesnât live at the edge of town. That is House Builder and his wife, who is a worker of spells and who tricked me to protect her husband. What I do know is that the real February is the Creator who lives in the two holes in the sky. We should have known this. We will immediately construct a fleet of balloons and ascend into the air.
There were about thirty people in Thaddeusâs home, and they immediately began to object. A few people shouted that flight is impossible. The Professor quieted them and spoke.
But we already have a plan under way, he said, and handed Thaddeus the bundle of parchments gathered from the homes and shops left by the underground children.
Fine, go ahead with it, he said. But Iâm going in the opposite direction. I need to get into the holes in the sky.
Should someone go with you, asked a war member.
No, said Thaddeus. The childrenâs War Plan is a plan that will work, but I canât leave without seeing whatâs in the sky. I will attempt to fly tomorrow by myself. Everyone else can begin the childrenâs War Plan.
Â
That night everyone ate dinner
Â
together at the inn. They had steamed carrots, apple-glazed pork and boiled potatoes. They ate all the food in the town. They told stories of how New Town would be warmer. They drank and dreamed of blooming fields. A calendar was created, void of the season of
You said it out loud, said House Builder. The girl who smelled of honey and smoke nodded.
There was a war planned by underground children, said Thaddeus. Itâs against February. Or is it against you. I shouldnât have called it off. Should I have called it off. I need to get back to town. And Thaddeus headed to the door.
Please, said House Builder. I know you wonât understand this, because I believe itâs impossible to understand, but Iâm not the cause of the townâs troubles. Iâve been pushed to the edge of town. Look back to the two holes in the sky. Thatâs where the problem is. Or the problem is willpower and what you think you can control. I, for example, got labeled February and my wife here as a girl who smells of honey and smoke. Such nonsense. How awful.
When Thaddeus opened the door, it was snowing again and the trees were coated in ice. He ran back to the town as fast as he could, tripping and falling several times. He screamed in torment, his face pressed into the hard snow.
Â
The girl who smelled of honey and smoke
Â
woke up before February each morning. Sheâd crawl out of bed and walk through the darkness of the unfinished home and sit down at a wooden desk where sheâd click on a small green lamp. She would read through the stacks of papers, the fragmented paragraphs, the half sentences and abandoned dialogue, and finish these lost riddles to her liking. A long time ago, she showed Bianca the sun. Yesterday she told Thaddeus to walk back to the house of a man wrongly accused of being February to ask more questions. She supplied the blacksmiths with the tools to build a ship. One by one she revived the children buried underground after February kidnapped them, and she was the one who dropped the scraps of parchment from the sky that Thaddeus and the War Effort collected. The girl who smelled of honey and smoke told the children nursery rhymes and supplied them with lanterns as her hands carved out the maze of tunnels. There, there, she said, hushing them to sleep under thick winter blankets, their bodies huddled against a curve in the tunnel. And deep inside their dreams, she fed them the images of a final War Plan against February. There, there, she whispered, tucking the squares of parchment under their pillowed heads.
Â
Thaddeus called a meeting with the War Effort.
Â
I apologize to everyone, he said. The past weeks I believed it was spring when in fact the attacks from February have never been worse. I believe we should go on a full-scale attack against February. He doesnât live at the edge of town. That is House Builder and his wife, who is a worker of spells and who tricked me to protect her husband. What I do know is that the real February is the Creator who lives in the two holes in the sky. We should have known this. We will immediately construct a fleet of balloons and ascend into the air.
There were about thirty people in Thaddeusâs home, and they immediately began to object. A few people shouted that flight is impossible. The Professor quieted them and spoke.
But we already have a plan under way, he said, and handed Thaddeus the bundle of parchments gathered from the homes and shops left by the underground children.
Fine, go ahead with it, he said. But Iâm going in the opposite direction. I need to get into the holes in the sky.
Should someone go with you, asked a war member.
No, said Thaddeus. The childrenâs War Plan is a plan that will work, but I canât leave without seeing whatâs in the sky. I will attempt to fly tomorrow by myself. Everyone else can begin the childrenâs War Plan.
Â
That night everyone ate dinner
Â
together at the inn. They had steamed carrots, apple-glazed pork and boiled potatoes. They ate all the food in the town. They told stories of how New Town would be warmer. They drank and dreamed of blooming fields. A calendar was created, void of the season of
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