Night had come, and Maplebrook slept, save for some lamps that illuminated the streets. Not all of them, mind, only where people still lived. There were so few living in Maplebrook now, since Master had first awakened Timmins. Still, the night was quite beautiful. The dark sky glittered with a thousand stars, and the air was just warm enough that it was soothing.

  Yes, Timmins was outside, and he was also above it all on the roof of the town hall. He had stood diligently for the time that Master had requested he watch from the office. But now that he was given leave to wander, he came to the roof in search of the thrall named Lana. She was so familiar to him, like they’d known each other for many deaths before being raised by Master. In fact, he could hardly think of anything or anyone else. Why was that? What was working through him so incessantly that he could not think upon anything other than her? The soft way she shuffled in and out of a door, or the way her head tilted to the side, and of course the song of her voice. It allured him. Was it wrong that he felt this way? Should he have let Master know? Perhaps these attractions were a defect that might only cause trouble for Lana and himself.

  But. . . the more he tried to push the thoughts of her out, the more he found his decaying legs shamble in search of her.

  So, that was what he was up to now, dragging his feet up a flight of stairs and poking his head into the embrace of a fresh night. In his hands he cupped the greyish-red flower that he’d secured for this meeting. It rustled gently in his fingers as a gust passed over. He was sure to shield the flower as this happened, though also careful not to crush it. He did not have much flexibility in his fingers, but he did have a determination, which was what drove him forward.

  He looked for Lana on the roof, where he was certain she had been commanded to watch over. Timmins craned his neck in search for her, eventually spotting her fluttering black hair over the bell tower.

  Timmins straightened out his back as much as he could manage, and lumbered across a narrow walkway that stretched across the breadth of the roof. His pants and tunic fluttered in the wind, at times unsettling his feet. But, he walked with a calculated ease, so very careful to protect the flower. He may have been traversing the roof too slow, but the caution was a worthy investment in his mind. Would Lana not see how much he lingered upon her—how much of himself he dedicated to get near to her? He hoped that she might.

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  He planted his feet, one after another, until he had finally arrived at the bell tower. The great brass cone hovered overhead, humming silently as the air curled through it.

  Lana watched the town from the furthest corner of the bell tower.

  Now, there was no door or steps that led into the tower easily. It seemed that he would have to vault over the short wall in order to get within it. A predicament with the flower in his protection. He feared to set down the flower, for it might be blown away. So, he decided that he was close enough, and spoke out to the fair lady.

  “Gruuahl,” he moaned.

  Lana shuffled in a circle until her titled head was facing Timmins. “Gruuahl?”

  Timmins raised his hands up with the flower.

  She shambled over to him, standing a few heads above him as she was on a raised floor. She peered down at Timmins’s hands. Then she looked up at his eyes. “Hurha, grouuhh?”

  Timmins nodded his head, his heck popping in the process.

  Lana’s lips twitched. She reached out a steady hand and scooped the flower from Timmins’s palms. It would sit nicely between her ear and head, the ear that was still attached fully.

  Timmins’s lips quivered into what he thought was a smile, but felt quite off. After a couple attempts, he simply said, “Urug,” and started to turn toward the stairs.

  But then Lana said, “Nurrhg. Uh-urug gah.”

  He turned back to her and looked to see if she had meant it.

  She lowered a hand down, and he raised a hand up. Their boney fingers laced together, and it was that night where they could not take their eyes from each other. . . well, one eye each, anyway.