The music box played its familiar tune, the tiny ballerina spinning in delicate circles as Marcelline clapped her hands together in delight. At five years old, everything still held wonder.
The way shadows danced on the wall from the flickering candles, how her mother's voice sounded like honey when she hummed along to the melody, the warmth of being curled up on the living room rug in her favorite purple pajamas with the little stars printed all over them.
"Again, Mama!" Marcelline giggled, reaching for the music box with chubby fingers. "Make her dance again!"
Her mother, Lyra, smiled that soft smile that made everything feel safe and right in the world.
She had the same dark hair as Marcelline, though hers was longer, cascading in waves down her back. When she moved to wind the music box again, the candlelight caught the silver pendant at her throat, the one Marcelline always wanted to touch but was told was "very special" and "not for little hands."
"One more time, little star," Lyra whispered, using the nickname that always made Marcelline beam. "But then it's bedtime for real."
Marcelline was about to protest—she wasn't tired, not even a little bit—when the front door burst open with such force that it slammed against the wall. The music box toppled over, the ballerina's song cutting off mid-note.
Her father filled the doorway, his chest heaving like he'd been running. His usually neat dark hair was disheveled, and there was something in his eyes that Marcelline had never seen before, something wild and frightening that made her stomach feel funny.
"They found us," he said, and his voice was all wrong, sharp and breathless. "Lyra, they found us. She has to go. Now."
Marcelline looked between her parents, that funny feeling in her stomach getting worse. Her mother's face had gone very pale, all the color draining from her cheeks like water from a broken cup. The warmth that had filled the room just moments before seemed to evaporate, replaced by something cold and scary.
"Papa?" Marcelline's voice came out smaller than she intended. "What's wrong?"
But her father wasn't looking at her. He was looking at her mother with that same wild expression, and her mother was looking back with something that looked almost like... fear?
But that couldn't be right. Mama was never scared. Mama sang away the monsters under the bed and kissed scraped knees better and made everything okay just by being there.
Lyra's hands shook as she reached for Marcelline, pulling her close against her chest. Marcelline could feel her mother's heart beating fast, and when she looked up she was shocked to see tears sliding down her mother's cheeks.
"Mama?" Marcelline whispered, reaching up to touch the wetness on her mother's face. "Why are you crying?"
Her mother caught her little hand, pressing it against her cheek for just a moment before standing up in one swift movement. "Stay right here, little star. Don't move."
As Lyra hurried toward the bedroom, Isaiah finally looked down at his daughter. The wild fear in his eyes softened just a little as he knelt beside her, his large hands gentle as they cupped her small face.
"Papa loves you so much, little star," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You're the most precious thing in our whole world, do you know that?"
Marcelline nodded, though she didn't really understand why Papa looked so sad when he said it. His thumbs brushed across her cheeks, and she leaned into them.
"I love you too, Papa," she whispered back, and Isaiah's face crumpled just a little before he pulled her into a fierce hug.
When her mother returned, she was carrying a small leather bag, one Marcelline had never seen before. It was old-looking, with strange symbols carved into the leather that seemed to shimmer in the candlelight. Lyra knelt down and carefully placed the strap around Marcelline's neck, adjusting it so the bag rested against her chest.
"Listen to me very carefully, sweetheart," her mother said, cupping Marcelline's face in her hands. Her voice was steady now, but Marcelline could see more tears gathering in her eyes. "You need to go to Grandma Yenna's house. Do you remember the way? Through the woods, past the big oak tree with the heart carved in it?"
Marcelline nodded slowly.
She'd walked that path dozens of times, usually holding her mother's hand and collecting pretty flowers along the way. But she'd never walked it alone, especially not at night when the shadows looked like monsters and the trees whispered secrets she couldn't understand.
"I don't want to go without you," Marcelline said, her lower lip trembling. "Why can't we all go together?"
Her mother's composure cracked just a little, and she gathered Marcelline into her arms. When she spoke, her voice was muffled against Marcelline's hair.
"Because Mama and Papa have to take care of something first. But we'll come find you, I promise. Grandma Yenna will take good care of you until we do."
Marcelline pulled back to look at her mother's face, seeing the tears flowing freely now. She didn't understand what was happening, but she knew it was bad.
Really, really bad.
"I love you, little star," her mother whispered, pressing their foreheads together. "I love you more than all the stars in the sky, more than all the flowers in the meadow, more than anything in the whole wide world. Don't ever forget that, okay?"
Marcelline giggled, she couldn't help it. When Mama said things like that, it always made her laugh, even when she was sad. "I love you too, Mama. More than ice cream and puppies and my music box."
Her mother's smile was watery as she pressed a soft kiss to Marcelline's forehead.
"Be very quiet," her mother whispered as she led Marcelline to the back door. "Like we're playing the quiet game, remember? No talking, no singing, just quiet little footsteps like a fairy."
Marcelline nodded solemnly. She was good at the quiet game.
The night air was cool against her skin as her mother opened the back door.
Beyond the small garden, the forest stretched out like a dark ocean, the trees swaying gently in the breeze. Usually, the woods felt friendly during their daytime walks, full of birds and squirrels and dancing sunbeams. Now, they looked different. Maybe a little dangerous.
"Go straight to Grandma Yenna's," her mother said, giving Marcelline's hand one last squeeze. "Don't stop for anything, don't talk to anyone. Just run as fast as your little legs can carry you."
Marcelline took a step into the garden, then another.
The grass was damp with dew, cold against her bare feet. She'd forgotten to put on shoes, but it was too late now. When she reached the edge of the woods, she turned back to wave goodbye.
Her mother stood silhouetted in the doorway, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold something in. Even from a distance, Marcelline could see the tears still falling.
"I love you, Mama," she called softly, and then she turned and walked into the forest.