6 September, 1895 — Salem Square Harvest Festival

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Content WarningChild endangerment (but it is my intention for Caleb Kemp to escape unharmed (perhaps with your help!)

The governess had been finding outings like this with activities for children and encouraging Ezra to take his nephew and ward out to them since almost the first day he had arrived, and while Ezra had initially been skeptical that they were accomplishing anything at all he did have to credit her now. The boy had mottled red jam smeared along one cheek and had a fistful of candies he was considering very carefully to determine which one to eat next. It had been just over a year since his parents had been lost in the Padmore Park cave-in, and he was finally starting to look happy again. Even Ezra was enjoying himself... the smear of jam on Caleb's cheek looked a little like a scrape or cut at a casual glance, and he was privately amused watching various mothers and governesses looking concerned or aghast before they realized.

Caleb had been tugging Ezra towards the strongman game every ten minutes or so since he'd first spotted it, and had just done so again. Ezra had no illusions he would be any good at a contest of physical strength, but Caleb's persistence had just about worn him down to the point where he was willing to forego his dignity and try. That was when they heard the first scream. It was nearish but not directly in their line of sight, given the density of the crowd. Ezra instinctively put a hand on the boy's shoulder and pulled him a bit closer, but not because he considered him in any real danger. The biggest concern on his mind was that the child would be jostled and potentially knocked over if someone tried to move through the crowd quickly... if the scream had been someone with a stolen purse and the thief was escaping, or an accident that would see a healer or doctor rushing in.

Then there was a second scream, and that one cut off so abruptly that it chilled him straight through. That wasn't normal, and he couldn't supply a normal explanation for it.

People were starting to move, bustling back away from the epicenter of whatever was happening. Ezra did the same, pulling Caleb along. He didn't know what was over there, but knew nothing good would come of their being near it. Caleb was struggling to move quickly, overwhelmed by the sudden noise of the crowd and finding himself nearly stepped on more often than not. Ezra's grip on him changed from a hand on his shoulder to an arm wrapped around him. There was a quiet spreading behind them, and when Ezra hazarded a look he saw nothing but a sprawling mist.

"Come on, hurry," he said, shoving Caleb forward a bit as a panic started to rise in his chest. Caleb stumbled and fell and Ezra reached down to scoop him up, to carry him the rest of the way — and something happened to his foot when he crouched down and the fog rolled forward. He stumbled up and down the street, feeling off balance. It took him four steps to realize why, and even then it made no sense to the more logical part of his brain. The heel of one foot had entirely disappeared, shoe and sock and all. Even part of the back cuff on his trousers was missing.

Caleb could sense his panic, Ezra thought. "It's okay," he said, as steadily as he could manage under the circumstances. "It's okay, you're going to be okay."

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Traps and ancient curses ruled Sylvano's life. He'd gotten used to the inherent horror of that fact. Sometimes people died-- sometimes people worse than died, and Sylvano had been numb to that since an early age. It was different, though, watching a trap go off in the thriving epicenter of a civilian festival. One moment he was lost in the colorful games, the scent of a hundred different treats and the current of constant voices. The next, people were screaming.

The next, people were gone.

Sylvano was no martyr. He knew when to run. Anywhere else he might have kept right on going past the lagging man and his child, might not even have noticed his half-missing foot-- but this was Hogsmeade. Everywhere Sylvano looked he saw his sister, and as he rushed up alongside the man he could hear her berating him. Hear her caring

She'd be furious if she got him killed.

"Signore!" Breathless, Sylvano extended his hands-- whether to help the man or take the boy so the father could run, even he wasn't sure. Either way, it seemed it would help.

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The problem with losing half a shoe (aside from the inherent horror of something simply disappearing from his body) was that with the heel gone there was nothing to hold it on the rest of his foot. Try as he did to pick up the pace with his injured leg, he finds himself almost immediately stumbling as the shoe started to slip off and get underfoot. It wasn't an illusion, then. Something had actually taken part of his body off. He'd thought maybe he was hallucinating it, because he couldn't feel it... dear Merlin, he couldn't feel his foot.

Someone was reaching out. Ezra didn't have time to think it through, but it wasn't as though there were many alternatives. He nodded and thrust Caleb towards the stranger. "Get him far away," he said urgently. "Please."

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Sure. That worked. Sylvano heaved the kid into his arms as securely as he could manage, tried not to lag in his step as he did, aware of the grasping fingers of mist creeping ever closer against their backs. A lopsided smile probably wasn't the right answer to the haunted look in the other man's eyes. He was used to it. Couldn't stop being used to it if he tried.

"Just keep running," Sylvano insisted, picking up a quicker pace. It was all he could really do to hope that not managing a terrified child would give the man the space he needed to keep up. He was a couple steps ahead before the idea they might become separated settled in. Breathless and grinning without an ounce of the smile in his eyes, he raised his voice a little and shouted [b]"Your name, signore?" even as he hoisted the child higher against his chest.

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Caleb didn't say anything as the other man took him, but his eyes when they met Ezra's briefly were panicked. It was very like him to go quiet when he was overwhelmed with feeling. He'd barely said a word in the two weeks after his parents had died in the park collapse. He was still shy around strangers even at the best of times. He wasn't making a sound now, but he was terrified. There was nothing Ezra could do to reassure him, because he was already being lifted up and out of reach, and because there were no genuine words of reassurance to offer. This was entirely terrifying; he had the right of it.

"Applegate," he answered, and it occurred to him that if the man was asking he was already thinking about a future where Ezra didn't end up coming out of this mist right behind him. "That's Caleb."

Was he going to die here?

His half-disappeared foot was still slowing him down. The stranger, with Caleb close to his chest, was already pulling ahead significantly. They were going to get out of this. The crowd was thinning, opening up the way for them to run faster. Ezra's half-shoe had fallen off and he hobbled on as fast as he could on what remained. Maybe it was a mercy that he couldn't feel it, because pain would have only slowed him down more.

A shadow flitted in front of him and he flinched. He tried to tell himself it wasn't real, but that had never worked. They felt real, no matter what he said. It was fitting for the shadows to be here now, if this was going to be the end.

Wait — he didn't have to die here. He was a wizard. He had a wand. He could apparate to safety — why hadn't he already done that, with Caleb? He just needed to get his wand out... but as he hazarded a glance over his shoulder he saw the mist rolling in fast behind him.

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Sylvano glanced behind the man. If he was being completely honest, the situation didn't look good, but Sylvano was not in the habit of being completely honest about anything. No reason to start now.

"If I lose you," he shouted, as though he did not fully intend to lose the man in short order, "we will be at Hogsmeade Hospital!" Back in one of the few familiar spaces this side of the English Channel. Back in the presence of healing hands who'd have the first clue what to do with a child scared quiet. If Sylvano knew anything, it was that Sybella would know what to do.

He did not actually wait for the boy's frantic father to answer. He turned away, took a half-step back and left, and apparated them both away to Hogsmeade.

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Hogsmeade Hospital. The man disapparated with a crack. Sensible, smart. Unless there was anything about this mist that interfered with magic, Caleb would be safe. Ezra just needed to follow suit. If he could just get a little farther away from the encroaching mist he could buy himself enough time to get his wand out. He'd had it tucked into a less accessible interior pocket, since he wasn't allowed to use it in Irvingly, but now he was regretting that choice. He just needed a second to get it out... or maybe he could manage it while moving, now that his hands were free and Caleb had gotten to safety. The damn foot was an inconvenience here, too; he kept forgetting a chunk of it was missing when he stepped and getting thrown off balance, and needed his arm free to keep him from stumbling.

He didn't even need his wand out to apparate, he only needed to get his hand on it long enough. He could do this. A shadow flitted across his field of vision, close at hand. This was not the time to panic, but he couldn't help it. He lost his footing, stumbled, fell. Ezra kept reaching for his wand, trying to twist his torso such that he could get to it without trying to pick himself up off the ground. There it was, finally, the familiar and comforting feel of smooth hazel wood. At slightly the wrong angle — had it broken in the fall, just now? — no time to wonder, and no alternative if it had. The mist was already upon him, obscuring the rest of the foot it had started to take and climbing up his leg. A shadow crouched beside him. Ezra closed his eyes and clutched his wand and prayed he could still escape this.

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