Time Drifters

Tarrytown, New York —September 22, 1780

It’s not easy to describe the feeling of landing, if I can even call it that. It’s not like a fall, although there was a bit of a sense of settling, like I’d arrived just above the ground. My hands touched crackling leaves and damp earth and my fingers spread into them, just to make sure that they were real.

Was this it? Was there more to come or was I done?

And was I alive and awake?

I had a feeling that I’d just dozed off for a second or two, like the times I was riding in the backseat on a super boring trip and woke with one of the same bad songs my Mom liked still playing on the radio. Ripped off by sleep that wasn’t long enough.

I have to say I still wondered if this was some kind of trick; if the Postmaster had just moved me out into the woods somewhere. Cool magic, if that’s all it was.

But the ground smelled so fresh, as if it were summer. Mr. Danby couldn’t have changed seasons so fast.

I took a deep breath but suddenly it was like my lungs were desperate for air. I started coughing and I couldn’t stop. That was when I realized that I hadn’t moved yet. Instead of standing up, I was still on all fours—except for the hand on my crystal—and getting closer to the ground. But the more I coughed, the more I needed air, and the more air I breathed in, the harder it seemed not to cough.

“Hey Pal. Havin’ a problem?”

I heard the young voice and saw shuffling feet getting closer. It was so hard to move and I only managed to fall over. I couldn’t get away from him before I felt a hefty slap on the shoulder.

“Trinder?”

He knows my name.

I got a glimpse of the forest canopy above. This wasn’t late winter in Tarrytown. Something had happened. It all hit me in a flash. Maybe this was all real.

Was it real?

“Holy, Jimminy,” the boy said, lurching back away from me. I managed to look straight at him. He was genuinely alarmed. My stomach sunk.

“Holy… you shrank!” he said, pointing at me.

“What do you mean?” I sputtered, my voice cracking and setting me back to coughing.

His hands slapped to his mouth and his shoulders seized forward like he was stifling something.

“Look at you,” he exclaimed. He spun around on the spot and took a second look before busting out laughing. “You’re just so… little. Ha!”

“What? Stop it!” I demanded. “What happened? What are you talking about?” I felt so spastic, trying to scramble to my feet. My legs were wobbly but I was determined to show my true height. Plus, I had to take stock in case something had happened.

He closed both eyes and then opened one. His lips were pursed together until he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Spit flew from his mouth as he burst out laughing.

“Cut it out!” I yelled at him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Sshh…” he said, approaching me with warning signs to calm down. “We just got here. We don’t know who else is nearby.” He had an accent, like some soft drawl that rolled through a cheerful smile.

I reached out to steady myself on a tree. My hands were shaking. I looked to make sure they were the same size they’d always been. I thought so, until I saw how small my hand seemed compared to the massive tree trunk.

I looked back at the guy and it made him purse his lips back together. I wanted to take a run at him, but he was definitely bigger than me; about fourteen, wiry but he looked fit and fast. He had an angular face with curious eyes and the various freckles draped across his cheeks made him seem friendlier. His hair was chestnut colored, tousled in wild clumps with bits of leaves stuck in them. There were more twigs and pine needles on his thick beige coat, like he’d been scrapping with someone else.

“So let’s have it, then,” he said, adding under his breath, “This oughta’ be rich.” He cocked his head inquiringly. “Date and Drift number?”

“What?”

“What year did …” He stopped himself, the humor fading a bit from his face. “How many times have you traveled… back?”

“None, I guess. I mean…”

“Oh…. My… God in heaven!” His eyes opened wide. His hands shot back to his face and his fingers dragged down his cheeks like that painting called The Scream. He started bobbing up and down.

“Holy criminy! Jerusalem! This is truly, honestly… Oh! It’s…”

He jerked back and forth, unable to contain himself.

“And that would be why… of course,” he said, pointing back to me and then squishing his hands towards each other like he was trying to compress something. I knew he was referring to my size again and I felt a rush of anger and heat surging back into my face. I looked past him, hoping to find an escape route in case I needed it.

That’s when I saw movement through the trees. A young woman in a long skirt and short jacket, wearing a bonnet was just emerging from around a rough shed. It was made of grey weathered boards on its sides and roof and appeared to have only one small window. That meant civilization, I thought. Maybe a phone or a road or a car.

“I don’t care why we’re here,” the guy said, still bubbling with excitement. “This is beyond … a fantastical happening.”

He must have caught my glance, because he wheeled and waved to the young woman.

“Got Trinder,” he volleyed. “And it’s his first Drift! His first time, get it?”

“I’ll tell the others,” she said, waving. She turned with urgency and ran back around the cabin. I was about to follow when a hand gripped my shoulder and stuck me in place.

“Hey, Liam,” he said, thrusting out his other hand. “My name is Rufus.” I tried to match the strength of his grip, even though it was really hurting.

“Liam Trinder,” I said, mustering as much of a smile as I could.

“I know, I know,” he said. “How funny. But sure. Nice to officially meet you, Liam Trinder.” He slung his arm around my shoulder like we were old buddies.

“Your first time. That’s why you’re so….” He stopped himself again, seeing me grimace.

“So, I know you?” I said, trying to clear my head from spinning.

“Definitely! Oh, we’ve done battle together lots of times, in my lifetime, I mean.”

“Battle?” I asked.

“I mean we’ve done our deeds, as Drifters. Together. It’s good. The tops. Oh, not that it’s always easy for us, you see. Honestly, some of it’s pretty rough. Not that I’m trying to scare you. Dang it!” He paused and pulled away, looking very thoughtful.

“You probably got all kinds of questions,” he continued. “And we gotta be careful about what we say, being your first year and all. But you’re from the twenty-first century…”

“And you’re not?” I said, surprised.

“Heck no! 1933,” he said proudly, as if he were telling me about his favorite basketball team. He suddenly looked thunderstruck. “But you can’t go telling me…”

“I can’t tell you about your future or any events that are about to happen in your own… timestream,” I said, repeating word for word what Mr. Danby had instructed me. Thinking of the old man back at the Drift house suddenly made me feel very alone and frightened. That seemed so far away, if I really did go back in time and it was beginning to sink in that this could be real.

What if I can’t get back? My mind began racing through all the things he’d told me, everything I could think of. What if I didn’t remember? What if I messed up?

“Good, that’s exactly true,” Rufus answered, although he looked a bit disappointed. “Your Postman told you. Or maybe you have a lady Postman in your time?”

“No, he’s a he,” I said, finding myself being careful already in choosing my words. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that the Postman could be a woman. Did they exist?

“And did he tell you about rippling?” Rufus asked intently.

“I’m not sure,” I responded, hesitating. Was this important?

“It’s the niftiest thing,” Rufus boasted. “For sure. Almost as capital as Drifting itself. And you’ll get the hang of it. I’ll show you. Stay right there. Now, watch.”

Rufus assured himself that I wasn’t budging and then looked towards the shed. He walked to the left and then stopped, circling back with his finger pointing into the distance.

“Rippling is like Drifting within each Drift,” he said quite loudly.

“Shouldn’t we be quiet?” I asked.

Rufus stopped, a bit annoyed. “Nah, it’s okay. Just watch,” he said. “Marijka’s gettin’ the others.”

“Is it dangerous?” I asked. I was pretty sure Mr. Danby hadn’t said anything about rippling. If something happened to Rufus—or to me—before the others got back, I wouldn’t know what to do.

“You just hush now and pay attention,” Rufus scolded. He collected himself, backed up a couple of paces and then started walking between the trees again.

“You think about where you want to be, like the side of that cabin over there,” he said, speaking more loudly than I thought was necessary. “And then…”

“Bully!” he said, suddenly stepping out from the far right side of the shed. I literally jumped back. He must have rippled a good eighty feet.

“That’s incredible,” I said. “That’s amazing.”

“Amazing, yes,” he yelled from the distance as he started walking towards me. “Utterly amazing. You want me to ripple over there next?” He was pointing to the far right, but all I could see was a thicket of tight bushes growing next to a protruding boulder.

I started to walk towards him but he threw up his hand.

“No wait! I’ll come back and then you can try it,” he offered, turning on his heel and jogging back to the shed. “I just think about where I came from…”

Within a split second of disappearing behind the shed, he emerged from behind another tree farther back in the forest floor. It was startling.

“And here I am,” Rufus added happily. “Now you try it.”

It seemed like something I should know. Rufus didn’t come off as being the brightest guy but he was definitely super friendly. I figured I’d better give it a shot before the others showed up—whoever these others were.

I tried it walking. I tried it standing still. Rufus talked me through it and was really patient. When nothing was happening, I tried closing my eyes and thinking about the shed but the only thing I could see was the arcing light of the Drift. I felt Rufus steadying me when I was about to fall over.

“It’s alright, Trinder,” he said, striding away. “You’ll catch on pretty quick. Soon you’ll be rippling from one place…”

“To another,” he said, popping out from behind another tree trunk only a couple of yards to my right. “And then back again, just as quickly…”

His torso disappeared behind the massive tree trunk and then it reappeared from behind the tree that was closer to me. This time, however, I started to wonder.

The clouds shifted and a stream of light poured down through the forest canopy. As Rufus was demonstrating how easy it was to be rippling, I saw the shadow of a body on the ground, right beside the tree from where he had just disappeared.

“Hey,” I said, darting forward.

“No, no, over here,” I heard from my right, but I knew that the shadow had a source and I chased it around the trunk until I flushed him out. Rufus was smiling broadly and pointing at me just as I felt a tap on the shoulder.

“Over here, Liam,” said a voice just like Rufus’. I spun and backed up. There were two of him.

“Liam!” yelped Rufus’s double, his arms outstretched. In a flash, I was enveloped by a massive hug and was hitting the forest floor.

“What are you?” I exclaimed loudly, over the sound of laughter in my ear. A hand was messing in my hair and another tickling at my stomach. “Get off!”

“He doesn’t know, Barks. His first time, remember?” came Rufus’ voice from nearby. The pawing stopped and when he sat up I saw an exact duplicate of Rufus’s face looking down at me. Twice. Once from directly over my face and another from the guy standing to my side.

“Ya think the Drift knocked the smarts out of him?” said the guy on top of me to the other, who shrugged.

“Barks?” I asked.

“For the love of Pete, what are you three doing?” It was the voice of a young woman.

“Uh-oh,” said the guys in unison. They jumped to attention. Finally free, I scrambled to stand up.

“I, of all people, should have known better,” she said, leaving the side of a tentative looking young girl while she approached me. She was smiling sympathetically and I could finally see that she had a soft face and blond curls hanging down from the front of her bonnet. She looked like a delicate doll. So pretty.

“I’m so sorry, Liam,” she said. “My name is Marijka. I know you very well, but I understand that this must be confusing for you, not knowing any of us yet.”

The guys were jabbing each other and began sniggering. The word “little” was all I could make out.

“The twins could have done a better job of welcoming you, rather than getting you covered in such debris and detritus,” she said brushing my shoulders. I recoiled a bit, not wanting to be fussed over.

“That’s okay,” I said. It was Marijka’s turn to look surprised. “What?”

“It’s only… your voice,” she said, stepping forward with determination to pick at more leaves in my hair.

“They were just showing me about rippling,” I said, not wanting to totally alienate myself from the guys.

“Well then,” she said, shooting a shriveling look back at them.

“Is there such a thing?” I said, not knowing why I asked. I already knew it was a joke… on me. I was surprised when the guys appeared to lean forward, intently.

Marijka paused. “What I can tell you, most assuredly, Liam,” she said, “is that the twins have no idea… one way or the other.” The boys groaned.

“Nice try,” said Rufus, bumping shoulders with his twin.

“Yeah, and we have names, Marijka,” complained the other, turning to me. “I’m Barkley.”

“And I’m Rufus. That much was true.”

“He was named after the dog,” Barkley said in a loud whisper.

“No! You were,” protested Rufus.

“Boys!” Marijka proclaimed.

“It was the neighbor’s dog,” added Barkley. “The neighbors we don’t like.”

“Says a guy called, ‘Barks,’” said Rufus, shoving Barkley.

“Stop it!” insisted Marijka, moving both of the twins backwards with her arms outstretched.

I saw the little girl in the distance looking more and more timid, her hands clasped tightly together. I began to step over towards her.

“He was a Collie. A miniature,” said Barkley.

“He was an Alsatian! Those are tough beasts.”

“Oh, he’s a beast now?!”

“Cut it out!” yelled Marijka. “We’re not even all together yet. Please, save the bluster till it is needed.”

The young girl also had a bonnet but her hair was black and straight. Her lips were pursed shut but her eyes were wide and fixed on me as I edged backwards, towards the cabin.

She saw it first. Her head turned. I looked over my shoulder as a blur of black cloth charged around the corner of the building.

“Where is he?” bellowed the deep voice. “Trinder, you’re dead meat.”

My stomach dropped. The man coming at me looked ferociously wild. Tall, with wide shoulders like a quarterback at high school. I could just make out white teeth, bared in a snarled expression. He was covering the ground in seconds; his long legs gobbling up the distance.

I shot a glance at the twins and Marijka to see if this was some kind of joke. They looked shocked and scared and I felt my body go icy cold. He was too big to fight. I’d have to run.

When I looked back, he had me fixed in his sights already. There was no surprise registering on his face that I looked different. His eyes narrowed and his right arm coiled back, ready to strike; his clenched fist was square and big.

I froze and all I could do was squint.

I felt the whoosh of air rushing past my head. I registered the thudding of bodies and the explosive grunts of them exhaling, the crackle of leaves as they skidded into the forest floor. It looked like a big animal had attacked another, only inches in front of me.

Marijka shrieked and the twins were shouting something.

There was a mass of flailing arms and writhing legs in front of me. My attacker was being bested by an even larger man. While his dark coat twisted and whipped around with the wrestling turns of their bodies vying for dominance, and it looked like two bears fighting for their territory.

“Let go,” commanded the dark coated guy, pounding the side of his attacker with the last free limb he had available.

“And I could, were ye nay the treacherous badger ye are,” said the man on top, punctuating his final insult by snagging the other guy’s arm and pinning him to the ground, completely disabling him.

“Liam,” cried Marijka, grabbing my shoulders. “Come away. Quickly.”

I let her pull me backwards, but I never took my eyes off the guy who’d almost clocked me.

“Let me at him,” he yelled, rage still boring through his eyes at me.

“Ye can leave both of ‘em alone,” said the man in the brown coat, baring his own teeth and leaning in, menacingly.

The twins had moved in silently, intent on what was going to happen next. The guys on the ground were staring each other down, their chests heaving. The victor was easily the biggest, but not as old as I’d thought, maybe twenty. He had reddish brown hair and a short, full beard and moustache, which matched the Scottish accent, I thought.

The guy who hated me had deep eye sockets and strong ridges of cheekbones. His hair was loose and wavy and fell down from his head onto the leaves, half of it matching their color of decaying brown, and half of it a brighter blond.

“Can’t really protect him though, can you?” said the black coated guy staring straight at Marijka. “Not every minute.”

She squeezed my shoulders but said nothing.

“Ye cooled down sufficiently enough?”

“Just get off me, Campbell,” he said, rudely. “I’ll let you know when I’m sufficient.”

The redhead released his grip and appeared to be rolling off to one side. Turns out he was only shifting positions because he quickly jabbed his shin right against the mouthy guy’s crotch while grabbing him by the collar and suspending him off the ground.

“Yer word then?” asked this Campbell guy, coolly. “That would be adequate satisfaction.”

I fought back a smirk. This guy was amazing, and unbelievably powerful. I tried to memorize this posture but I couldn’t see how I’d ever have the strength to hold up someone like this, let alone with one hand while bracing an elbow on my spare knee.

“Yeah, whatever works for you, Caelen,” he relented between breaths. His attitude was apparently not moving mountains, so he continued, more sincerely, “Yes, fine. My word.”

“Verra well,” this Campbell man said instantly. He rose and simultaneously hauled the other guy to full standing height just as casually as if he’d only dipped down to pick a flower.

“So, how many have we got?” the newly freed guy asked, brushing himself off and scanning around. He began releasing fingers from his fist to make a count, notching out one in my direction without even looking at my face.

“Oh, Lord,” exclaimed Marijka. She wheeled around and then called out. “Capucine? Where are you?”

“We are over here,” said a tall young lady emerging through evergreen boughs hanging low beside the cabin. Her arm circled the shoulders of the petite girl with black hair who had been eyeing me before the attack. “Why don’t we all come over here?”

“And the mouth makes eight,” said the mean, blond guy.

“That’s Gwendolyn or Miss Whitehall, please and thank you,” came the cheery, singsong reply from beside the cabin.

“That means we’re missing one,” he continued. “Dammit!”

“Language! Do you mind?” Marijka interjected brusquely.

The twins had been quietly and excitedly greeting the Campbell guy. After a fit of pointing in my direction, they stepped aside to let the big guy through. Mr. Danby had said that kids “aged-out” of being Drifters when they were eighteen. I couldn’t imagine how a guy who looked this developed and older was still part of the group.

“We’re to understand it is your first time,” he said extending a large and calloused hand. My eye was drawn to the veins in his forearms, which looked like braided ropes.

“Hello,” I said feeling ridiculously timid. I shook his hand – or, really, I put my hand into his and he shook them both. “I’m Liam Trinder thank you,” I said, intending to keep those two thoughts separate. I felt very foolish for sounding so ungrateful and even bossy.

“Caelen Tearlach Campbell, yer humble servant,” he said, the name and the thickness of his accent finally confirming that he was Scottish and not Irish – I could hear the extra roll on the “R’s” in his middle name, and the guttural rasp at the end of it. Mom liked to play with accents when we were on the long road trip up to Canada, and her pickiness was finally paying off.

His voice was deep, too, but as he smiled I could see that his face was really not as old as I might have thought, even when I’d gotten a better look. His eyes looked like they still had questions in them, as though he still cared if other people liked him and he wasn’t quite sure if they would. His beard really wasn’t dense so much as it was complete in the area that it covered. Still, I’d have thought he was at least eighteen.

I must have appeared quite dumbfounded. Before releasing his grip, he leaned in towards my ear.

“Ye know, “humble servant’ is only an expression of speech we use, in my time, in deference and respect,” Caelen confided. “Although I wish ye to know, we get along verra well, just the same.”

“Thank you, yes,” I whispered back. “I think I could tell.”

“So who is it and where are they?” demanded the bossy one, who was now marching through the trees.

“That one is Thomas,” said Caelen, still leaning forward to my eye level, even as he looked over his shoulder. “We’re all on the same side, despite appearances.”

Thomas! I was engraving the name onto every image of him I could commit to memory. His height. The look of him in profile. His voice. I needed to be aware of all things Thomas.

“All the same,” he said straightening up, “Prudence is a virtue, aye?”

I looked up at him, trying to de-code the word “prudence.” He chuckled.

Just then, a thunderous boom rocked the forest, echoing back to us from the rocks and trees around as the sound carried outward. I could practically feel it in my bones. There were gasps from the others. Rufus and Barkley looked up to the sky. I had the same thought—about lightning—but there were only a few clumps of clouds drifting along.

There was a second, identical boom, followed by small pops and a high-pitched shrill noise. It sounded almost like the grand final of a fireworks show in the distance.

Caelen and Thomas started running, heading through the trees towards the source of the noise.

“Inside, if you can,” Thomas called out to Marijka over his shoulder.

“The cabin is clear, I checked,” said Gwendolyn, already shepherding Capucine along the side of the shed.

The twins exchanged looks and then took off at high speed. I was starting to follow them when I saw Marijka point a warning finger my way.

“Rufus and Barkley, get back here,” she ordered, but without any success. “You stay right here,” she added, holding out an open palm towards me. I was going to object when another boom reverberated through the air.

I realized I was the only boy. Was I left out, or left behind for a reason? It might be a good thing… in case the ladies needed me.

Gwendolyn and Capucine were standing together just inside the door as I walked in.

“Hello,” Gwendolyn said, extending her hand. “I’m Gwendolyn Whitehall and this is Capucine.”

The young girl didn’t look like she was even twelve yet.

“Marmiche,” said Capucine.

“Capucine Marmiche,” Gwendolyn repeated with import, as though she were in a play about royalty attending a grand ball. “I am pleased to meet you…”

“Liam Trinder, my lady,” I said, going along with Gwendolyn’s game. She smiled instantly and it made her look even prettier. She had an oval face, with soft features that were somewhat rounded. Her eyebrows were thin and high and they framed her eyes… almost mischievous eyes. Smart eyes that had seen a lot.

“You flatter me, young man,” she added with a kind of curtsy that I had no idea how to respond to properly. “You’re a flirt,” she added, tapping my shoulder with the back of her hand. I hadn’t thought of playing along as flirting, and I had an urge to apologize for a moment until I noticed the little one beside her staring at me.

“Hello,” I said to Capucine, who was withdrawing from the door and into the shadow cast by Gwendolyn’s long skirt.

“Bonjour,” she said, swaying slightly in her place.

“Do you speak English?” I asked.

“Oui,” was all she replied, curtly. She spun around to join Marijka who was taking stock of the few items remaining on a single shelf.

“There’s a blotter and inkwell still in the secretariat, if you could glorify this crude thing with that name,” Gwendolyn noted, drawing Marijka’s attention to the tiny desk in the corner nearest the front door. “I’ll stand lookout for our ninth, if you’d like to begin the Post. Unless you would prefer to switch.”

“No, an excellent idea,” Marijka said, moving swiftly into action. “They didn’t leave in a hurry and they didn’t leave much,” she muttered. She lifted the lid of the desk and dust sifted into the air.

“Except for dirt,” she added. “Plenty of that. Ew.”

Gwendolyn was already outside when another boom sounded. Capucine flinched and gasped until her attention was absorbed by Marijka’s quick movements in readying the inkwell for action. She reached her hand back into the desk and felt around.

“See if you two can find a quill… a feather,” she added, looking at me.

It seemed an unlikely task. There was very little around. It was basically one big room, with a door and two windows, one in front where that tiny desk was, and another in the back, covered with some kind of animal hide. There was a ratty old blanket stuffed in a corner that caught Capucine’s curiosity. Against the back wall there was only a rusted shovel and an axe with a busted handle. The board attached to the far wall had a kind of grate on it and a vast cauldron, as well as various clay pots, mostly chipped and cracked. I found a pile of clay bricks and a dead mouse curled in behind them.

“Voici, mademoiselle,” Capucine declared. “Quelque chose d’interet, peut-être… maybe, yes?”

I was happy to hear English finally come out of her, even with the strong curl of a French accent on it.

“Eureka! Pay dirt, indeed,” Marijka said happily.

“Non, behind the blanket,” Capucine corrected her. “You need paper, I think.”

“Absolutely,” Marijka said, extracting a folio from the worn leather satchel Capucine had magically unearthed. “And, here is the missing quill. At least the owners were a literate lot. Makes up somewhat for their lack of imagination with the décor, I think.”

Capucine smiled and resumed her vigil at Marijka’s side.

There was another round of booming noises, although they seemed farther off, thankfully.

“Believe I might close this, just in case,” Gwendolyn said, leaning in and pulling the door shut. Marijka barely acknowledged her. She was already busy, dipping the end of the feather into the inkwell and scratching out something on the paper. I’d seen paintings in the museum of people writing like this, but I’d never witnessed it with my own eyes.

The cabin felt cool and I finally didn’t have anything to take my mind off the fact that I was feeling the need to go to the bathroom. It didn’t seem like the right time, so I stepped over to watch Marijka.

Lit from the side, her face looked so fine and sweet. I was thinking that if these girls were Drifters, then maybe there was something different about them. But, other than the clothing and the hairstyles, they were still people just like the ones in Tarrytown.

Marijka’s skin was powdery white and her lips were small and soft looking. Since she was peering down at her work, I could see how long her eyelashes were; the curve of them was similar to the swell in her cheeks. It really was a pleasure just staring at her.

She must have sensed me there because her eyes flashed up at me.

“What are you writing?” I asked, swallowing with some difficulty.

“The Post,” she said, glancing back at me with a bit of a frown. “You know. The list of our names and Drift stations, along with the dates we came from. Didn’t your Postmaster show you?”

I shook my head.

“Well, let us have yours… I know your name and station, if you don’t mind the presumption. So what is the month and the year you came from?”

“March. 2001,” I said. Capucine gasped and stepped back, dropping to her knees and crossing herself. She immediately began to mutter prayers.

“It’s alright,” Marijka said. Capucine nodded but continued just the same. “It’s tough to imagine, but I’m sure you’ll understand the first time you Drift with one of the Future-Ones,” she continued. I felt like someone had just slapped me.

“Does that happen?”

Marijka bit her lip and winced. She put down the quill and held up the page to blow on it. The next sheet visible had a very familiar shape on it; the very same star-shaped scribble that was on the letter Mr. Danby had given to me. I gasped.

“What is it?” Marijka asked. She seemed startled, but then even more so when I told her about the letter I’d seen in my own handwriting.

“Come, sit. Quickly,” she said, ushering me around to face the desk. There was no chair, so I had to kneel on the hard dirt just as she had.

“We never know how much time we have,” she said, putting the paper down in front of me with the inkwell on the left, extending the quill towards me. “Sorry, I shouldn’t presume to know you, or that I believe you’re right-handed.”

“That’s okay,” I said, smiling. “You can presume.”

“Don’t say anything else,” she said, smirking. “Word for word, write down just what the letter said. And nothing more, do you understand?” She held my hand as I dipped it into the ink and then guided me back towards the page.

It felt like I was watching myself rather that actually doing it.

I knew the first words: “It’s me, Liam Trinder!” I could picture them in my head. And then, as I was writing them, they started to look exactly the same.

Marijka was showing Capucine how to take a page and fold it to make an envelope, when I stopped.

“But Marijka,” there was supposed to be a splotch of ink here,” I said, suddenly worried that I was messing up and changing things. What if it altered all we were doing here? Was that possible?

“Just keep writing to the end,” she said. “We can fix anything later.”

“But… it was here,” I objected. Her hand grabbed mine and thrust it back to the inkwell.

“You have to understand, this is urgent… vital,” she said, “Don’t speak.”

She seemed quite cross and very deliberate. Even bossy. I nodded and went to write the next line. But I couldn’t remember. I closed my eyes to see the next part.

Got it!

I went to write on the page, but then I saw that while I had paused to think, the ink had dripped off of the tip of the quill and struck the page. I couldn’t have made it look like that if I’d tried. The same shaped blotch.

“Whoa, trippy!” I said. A final glare from Marijka was enough to make me bear down to write the rest. I was just finishing the final words when I started to wonder if I should try to add anything else. If I did, and if I made it back, would the letter look different? I tried to look like I was still involved in the process, just in case, when the door swung open.

“Are you alright?” Gwendolyn asked. “I swore I heard something.”

“Not from in here,” Marijka responded.

“Are you completed?” Capucine asked carefully. Her fingers grasped the newly folded envelope with great care. It was obvious that she’d finished her part and expected me to be done with mine. I looked down and realized that was going to be it. Not because I couldn’t think of anything else to say, but because I suddenly, really and truly had to go to the bathroom.

“Is there a toilet?” I asked, handing my page to Capucine. She receded into the shadows and began folding it. I have to admit I was surprised that she hadn’t even looked at it.

“I’m afraid what you see is what you get,” Marijka said, resuming her work at the desk.

“Collect for you two or three leaves, before you do,” said Capucine quietly, adding with a hushed whisper, “soft ones, so you wipe, yes?”

I nodded even though I was only beginning to put it together in my head.

My grandpa Van Kier’s words came flooding back to me in that moment. After my cousin, Steve, said he wouldn’t cut the lawn because he didn’t know how the ancient lawnmower worked, I heard Grandpa muttering in the kitchen, shaking his head, saying “You young kids. Your generation wouldn’t have any idea how to even wipe yourself in the woods if you had to.” I’d figured out what he meant at the time, but I remember thinking that my generation would be smart enough to walk into the woods with toilet paper or some tissues. No big deal.

Apologies to Grandpa, I thought, as I opened the door.

“Hallo,” Gwendolyn said. “Lovely day for a revolution, wouldn’t you say?”

“I have to go,” I said. My hands gripped the side of my trousers and they felt very rough.

“Ah!” she said, nodding. She didn’t seem sympathetic. I stood there, feeling very awkward. She frowned at me.

“I am not going anywhere, I am on duty,” she said. “You can do yours out back.”

I had just turned the corner of the cabin when she called out.

“You do know what poison ivy looks like, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I lied.

She said something else that sounded either like, “They grow in trees,” or, “They grow in threes.”

“I know!” I yelled back, acting annoyed. I had thought that it grew on the ground and looked harmless. I also knew the “poison” part of it made you itchy. I decided that the leaves of a shrub would be the safest bet.

“Leave nothing that is permanent and lasting,” Mr. Danby had said. This bothered me, kind of. I certainly couldn’t have been the first Drifter to do his business in the past. Neither Marijka nor Gwendolyn seemed alarmed. And by now I was less worried about ruining the rules of time travel than I was about getting this done ASAP… and not being seen in the process.

I walked across the place where Caelen had taken down Thomas, and past where I had first arrived. No time to get sentimental. The cabin was still in sight and I saw no movement from the flap over the back window—I checked.

I came to a clump of two different bushes. I felt their leaves, considering. One was smooth and shiny, like lacquer. The other had a soft fuzz on it. I snagged four leaves and walked around to the far side to give me some additional privacy from the cabin. It was all very weird and strange, having to fumble with the buttons and draw string on my pants, and to deal with everything that followed.

I’d seen cats cover up their mess and I was debating a humanized version of this when I heard a rustling behind me. I turned very slowly.

There was someone beside me.