Madeline practically inhaled her breakfast, the wooden spoon clacking against her bowl in a frantic rhythm. The secret of the "Devil's Throat" burned in her chest like a swallowed coal, hot and demanding to be shared. For the first time in days, the shadow of Mr. Woodsman didn't feel like a shroud; it felt like a hurdle she was finally fast enough to jump.
She reached Charlene's lopsided cottage just as the first amber rays of sun hit the thatch. Her knuckles rapped a staccato beat against the door until a dishevelled Charlene pulled it open, blinking against the light, her dark hair a tangled nest around her shoulders.
"Maddy? It's barely dawn," Charlene croaked, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Is it your grandmother? Has something happened?"
Madeline couldn't suppress the manic grin spreading behind her veil. "Can I come in first? The street has ears, Char."
Charlene stepped aside, her confusion deepening as Madeline practically lunged for the worn-out wooden chair in the center of the room. She grabbed Charlene's wrists, pulling her friend down to sit.
"Guess what," Madeline whispered, her blue eyes dancing with a terrifying light.
Charlene leaned back, wary. "I haven't seen you this breathless since we were ten and stole those apples. What's happened?"
"I found it, Char. A job. And it doesn't pay in copper or bread scraps," Madeline leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss. "It pays in silver."
Charlene's entire body went rigid. "Silver? Maddy, nobody in this district handles silver unless they're stealing it."
"It's true! Three silver coins just for showing up. And Rob—a man I met there—he told me if I'm 'good,' I could walk away with ten in a single night."
Charlene's jaw didn't just drop; she looked as though she'd been struck. "Ten silvers? Madeline, think! There isn't a trade in this village—not the blacksmith, not the weaver, not even the Mayor's clerk—that pays that. That's palace money. That's... sin money." She gripped Madeline's arm, her fingers digging into the wool of her cloak. "Where is this place?"
Madeline's gaze flickered to the floor. The excitement suddenly felt a little colder. "I... I took the long way home yesterday. Through the Devil's Throat."
Charlene let out a strangled gasp, her face draining of color. "The Throat? Madeline, are you insane? We were raised on stories of that place! It's a pit of vipers and predators. Why would you even set foot there?"
Madeline snatched her hand back, rubbing the red marks Charlene's grip had left. "It wasn't like the stories, Char! It was... different. Strange, yes, but they were kind. I met people. Rob, and a man named Chris. They didn't look like monsters."
"Kind?" Charlene stood up so abruptly her chair screeched against the floor. "Madeline, tell me you didn't take a job in a den of iniquity. Tell me you aren't going back there."
Madeline didn't look up, her silence acting as the loudest confirmation possible.
"Does Miguel know?" Charlene whispered, the name hanging in the air like a threat.
"No! And you cannot tell him," Madeline snapped, her voice sharpening. "You know how he is. He'd chain me to the hearth before he let me walk past the industrial gates. He doesn't understand the clock I'm standing under. He doesn't have Woodsman breathing down his neck."
"Maddy, no," Charlene paced the small room, her hands shaking. "I won't let you. Do you even know what they expect from you for ten silver coins? It isn't honest labor."
"I'm a cleaning assistant, Charlene! I'll be scrubbing floors and tidying rooms," Madeline insisted, though even to her own ears, the words sounded flimsy against the image of Rob in his leather collar. "Please. You're my best friend. I need this. I need to save my grandmother."
She stood and took Charlene's hands, her eyes pleading. "Promise me. Keep this one secret. In three nights, I'll have the money. I'll pay the debt, and I'll never go back. I'll be safe."
Charlene stared at her for a long, agonizing minute. Outside, the Ambient Sounds of the village began to rise—the heavy thud of carts, the shouting of vendors—reminding them both that the world was moving on, with or without them.
Finally, Charlene let out a defeated sigh, her shoulders slumping. "Fine. I'll keep your secret. But the moment you have those ten coins, you quit. You don't look back. You don't even say goodbye to 'Chris' or 'Rob.' Do you swear it?"
Madeline nodded fervently, throwing her arms around her friend. "I swear. Thank you, Char. Thank you."