Hatchetfield.

heal what has been hurt

Pete's hair falls like a golden waterfall down the length of the tower before bouncing to a halt just above the tips of the grass, fluttering slightly in the breeze. Steph eagerly grabs onto the thick rope of hair and begins to climb, her hands slipping a little on the shiny locks and feet fumbling over the rough stones, but still making it to the ledge at the top of the tower in record time. She scrambles over it, breathless and shaking with the effort, but too eager to care.

"Pete! Oh my god." Steph stumbles into the room, scaring the shit out of Pete who, probably expecting Tinky rather than her, hurriedly reaches for his frying pan before registering who she is. Steph feels an overwhelming sense of déja vu— it feels like years have passed since she accidentally stumbled upon this old tower and discovered through first-hand experience how effectively frying pans can serve as weapons with enough dedication. She's pretty sure she still has a bump on the back of her head from that.

" Steph? " Pete asks in disbelief, blinking repeatedly at her like she's a hallucination or a mirage, liable to disappear if he looks at her for too long.

Steph grins, realizing just how happy she is to see him again. "I'm back!"

Pete drops the frying pan onto the floor with a loud clank and rushes towards her, covering the distance in a second and throwing his arms around her before she even has time to think. She makes a startled 'oh!' sound before hugging him back because, fuck it, she missed him. A lot.

Pete pulls away, looking nervous. "Tinky better not find you here. He's been uh— he's been a lot worse lately 'cause he's still mad at me for running away."

Steph sighs loudly, unslinging her bag from her shoulder and letting it land on the floor with a thunk. "Yeah, about that," she mutters, kneeling down and shuffling through the contents of her bag in search of the Black Book, as Ted had called it. A fittingly ominous name for the old, leather-bound hardcover with weathered pages and a strange symbol painted in white on the cover.

"Huh?" Pete drops to his knees beside her, watching her pull the book out of her bag and set it down on the wooden floor in front of them. "What's that?"

"Pete, we gotta be quick here. Does this book look... familiar, to you?"

Pete stares down at it, then back up at her, confused. "No?"

Steph drums her fingers on her thighs, the full weight of what she's about to tell him suddenly hitting her for the first time. She looks at him nervously, and he stares back blankly.

"Okay. You know, uh, Tinky?" She asks, the tone of her voice going a bit too solemn. Pete notices, a hint of concern beginning to creep onto his face. "Uh... yeah?"

"Um," Steph scrubs her hands over her face, talking through her fingers. "He's... bad. Like, really bad. You think he's annoying sometimes, and kind of a jerk, but I mean worse than that."

"Steph, what are you trying to say?"

Steph drops her hands to her lap, meeting Pete's gaze. "When I got captured a few days ago, I was thrown in prison. And I... I met your brother there."