As Keaton drew nearer, their excitement mounted. The strain of Patience’s bag on her shoulder seemed to have disappeared entirely. The sight of town buildings ignited a second wind in the girl. Ignoring her already tingling legs, she broke into a jog. Just as eager, Anax called out little strings of encouragement, willing her legs faster. By the time they reached the stables, Patience had broken into a sweat. She strolled the rest of the way, recapturing her breath.

Anax became quiet as they came upon the barn. It was nice knowing the skull could monitor himself without any reminders. Patience spotted Mr. Wells carrying a large box from his store to his wagon parked at the entrance. They bade each other good morning.

“All right, Patience. Have a seat. I’ve got just a few more things to load up,” said Mr. Wells, flashing a smile.

The girl passed by the mules, giving them a thorough pat each. She hopped up to the wagon’s seat and placed the carpet bag on her lap. She breathed in, scanning her surroundings from the high perch. Anax did the same, mostly focusing on the mules. The wagon rocked as Mr. Wells packed the final boxes into the back. He then ascended the driver’s seat. The girl was thankful Anax’s eye occupied their right side since he could freely look around on the ride without the man noticing.

“Ready?” asked the man.

“Yes, Mr. Wells!” She smoothed the fabric along her legs, trying to tame her thrill.

With a flap of the reins and a whoop, Mr. Wells ushered his mules into motion. They turned onto the road and the clopping of hooves fell into a steady rhythm. A soft rattle from some object in the back added an energetic percussion. Years had passed from the time Patience last rode in a wagon. Nostalgia washed over her, she felt like a young girl again.

The sun began to peek out between the early morning clouds and a light breeze stirred the scent of dew and grass into the air. Unlike Schuler’s motorbike that whizzed past the countryside, the wagon took a more leisurely pace. It forced them to absorb the landscape, but it was not unwelcomed.

Patience shyly glanced over at Mr. Wells. Eyes straight ahead, he clicked his tongue every so often to encourage the mules. The piece of straw in his mouth wavered like a conductor’s baton. Her head swiveled to the side, absentmindedly training on a passing pond. She was unsure how to begin a conversation with Mr. Wells, or if she should even try. She had never spent this much time in his personal company. Thankfully he was not shy to begin chatting.

“Don’t know if you’re aware …” began Mr. Wells, “I told this to your parents before …” He cleared his throat. “But I appreciate your long term patronage.”

Patience shot him a glance and smiled.

“Ned too …” Mr. Wells continued to keep his eyes steady on the road. He passed a hand over his frizzy, cropped hair. “When we just started, it was hard. But your father and mother were among those that believed in our hard work and supported us. We—all of us and our families, are forever grateful.”

Her heart clenched at the thought of these two brothers being born into the ownership of another person. They had suffered much to get to where they were today. And while the girl could never fathom the hardships they went through, and still faced, she knew the best thing she could do was to continue to support their businesses. Aside from her putting money into their registers, she made sure to also speak highly of them when appropriate.

“Oh, you and your brother are self-made men. You only have yourselves to thank,” said Patience.

“Well, a business ain’t anything without its customers,” Mr. Wells laughed.

Patience had always felt a tinge of guilt over her father not serving in the war. Using his inheritance, he had paid the incredible commutation sum of three-hundred dollars to escape the draft. His family was wealthy, and as the only son with a lame sister, he was favored tremendously. While they were staunch abolitionists, they were hard-pressed to get their hands dirty.

That was one aspect of her father that Patience disliked. He deferred to preaching and economic support rather than physical actions. Even if he had vowed to never take a life at the end of a rifle or bayonet, he could have trained as a medic with his intellect and dexterous hands. Not being able to discuss this with him was the one thing Patience regretted now that he had passed.

Her father’s passive actions were complemented with her mother’s own aggressive hands-on approach towards life. Perhaps some of her mother’s strong will rubbed off on her husband over their years of marriage, and the rare time he did take action led to Patience becoming a part of their lives.

Her mother had come from a family of poor farmers who valued hard work. The youngest of seven, she always vied for the attention of her parents, trying to work harder and out-do her siblings. Ultimately she caught the eye of her great-uncle, who gifted her the parcel of land that was now Patience’s home. It was her first real reward for all her efforts, and she treasured it until her last breath. And so Patience felt compelled to honor her hard work.

“How are your chickens doing?”

Patience shook herself from her thoughts. “They’re doing well! I’ve got a clutch of chicks this season. I’m hoping to trade you once they’re older.”

“Of course, of course,” Mr. Wells simpered.

The two spoke at length over the care of chickens and other animals until the sun fully emerged from its cloudy cover to grace the day.

“My parents never allowed me to own pets,” sighed Patience.

“Oh? Not even a dog to guard your home?”

“My mother said she had enough to take care of around the house. I would have liked a cat, even just as a mouser. But she said any loss we had to pests was negligible and could be considered as offerings for the woodland spirits.”

“She believed in that?”

“I don’t think so. It was more likely to entertain the wild imagination of a child.”

“I’m sure they do exist though,” said Mr. Wells, tapping his nose, “or did.”

Patience wondered. There had been sightings of faeries and other nature spirits throughout history, but never had there been any hard evidence for their existence. No skeletal remains, nothing left behind. They could simply very well be an undiscovered species such as Anax.

“In some form or another,” Patience sighed.

“Well, I like to think they exist.”

Patience chuckled. If he only knew what could exist. Mr. Wells was so close to Anax, so close to learning the true nature of the skull if they slipped. Everyone was. Her eyes bulged.

Suddenly Patience’s lungs ceased to work smoothly. She never knew the burden of such a large secret until this moment. The whole weight of the world seemed to press down upon the girl. Her entire life could be unraveled should the wrong person discover Anax. Her vision glazed over. Mr. Wells was speaking, but she was not listening.

“Patience!” Mr. Wells placed a hand on her shoulder.

She snapped out of her torpor.

“We’re almost to Haverston!”

As they crested a hill, the wide sprawl of the town expanded before them. Anax gasped ever so quietly, Patience quickly masking it with her own. It had been a long time since she enjoyed this view. The buildings clustered together into a mass. The line of the rail tracks laying over the surrounding land cut into the very edge of the concretion. Unable to let the effect fully permeate, Mr. Wells urged on his mules.

Haverston was over twice the size of Keaton. All of the large public buildings within town limits had electric lights and most places were plumbed to a sewer line. Having found its modest wealth as a hub for distributing produce grown in the surrounding area, it boasted several luxuries. Among other things, there were fine hotels and restaurants, the department store, a manicured park and gardens that made Keaton’s look like a barren field, and of course the grand theater that was now home to the illustrious singer Celeste Hargreaves. However at the moment, the only sight Patience had in mind to visit was the train station.

Towering brick buildings rolled past Mr. Wells’ wagon. Throngs of people were out enjoying an early start to their Saturday. The vignettes of urban life were akin to Keaton, but everything was denser and more crowded. Patience most certainly noticed the looks and sneers some of the citizens directed at her and Mr. Wells. Patience was unsure whether she would love living in a large town like this for its amenities or categorically hate it for everything else.

Mr. Wells pulled up to the side of the station among vehicles of all sorts collecting and depositing passengers and freight. She gave her thanks and bade him farewell before dodging a horse to hurry to the ticket booth. The girl requested a ticket for the next train stopping at St. Phocas, then presented her money.

“Here you are, young lady,” said the clerk, handing Patience a ticket. “The Coastal Express is expected to arrive in one hour.”

“Wonderful! Thank you,” said Patience. Relieved that she was early and would not need to stay overnight at a hotel to wait for another train, she took her time strolling to the platform.

“But I want to explore,” grumbled Anax.

“We can explore around Haverston once we come back from our trip!”

“Promise,” Anax quietly demanded.

“I promise,” Patience sighed.

She spotted a bread cart and bought a roll stuffed with cheese. The previous train that had occupied the station blew its whistle, grinding into motion. Finding an empty bench, the girl sat down to enjoy her breakfast. Anax’s eye fixed fastedly on the iron black, mechanical beast and remained captivated as it chugged away into the distance.

“Are we getting in one of those?” he asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice.

“Yes,” said Patience, slightly amused.

Anax met the arrival of their train with stoic silence. He braved the thunderous noise and intimidating plume of smoke. Patience could imagine how threatening this giant moving machine was to an apex predator unaccustomed to the creations of man. She leapt up the steps of the nearest open car door, immediately running into a conductor. He punched her ticket. The girl then shuffled by him to scout for a seat in an empty car.

Settled into place, Patience held her breath as the train lurched forward. Her heart drummed harder as she felt the world recede. There was no turning back now. Anax held his gaze outside the window, his eye quivering in astonishment. Patience rubbed at a small wart on her finger. Unused to train travel, she centered her breathing on the motions of her fingertip until the locomotive maintained a steady pace. Only then did she allow herself to peer at the fleeing landscape.

“Are you still minding yourself, Anax?” asked Patience in a whisper.

“I behaved in town, did I not?”

“You did. I just want you to be doubly vigilant. I’ve a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more people now.”

“I am still a secret.”

“Yes. I’d like to keep it that way, you know … for our convenience.”

“Except Schuler knows.”

“He can keep a secret. He’s good like that.”

The thump of shoes announced a passenger walking past them. He paused to shoot a glance at the girl from below the brim of his bowler. She returned a look from the shade of the skull. The man seemingly flinched before continuing on to the next car. Patience assumed he thought her a witch. She realized it was a notion that worked in her favor. She could always try explaining Anax’s abilities away with magic. However, it would be optimal to avoid any such conversation all together. The girl would rather not do any mental acrobatics; particularly if she had to explain Anax to a witch.

The train brought them over earth and water. The country passed before them, invisible lines separating counties and state rolling by underneath Patience’s planted feet. The girl estimated they had left Maryana by now. Her hunch proved correct when the conductor announced Spotswood, Wiginia as their next stop. People came and went as the train paused along its assigned stations. Most never bothered Patience. She had the luxury of an empty booth for the entirety of the trip. She crossed nearly two states in comfort, drifting in and out of sleep.

The sun had begun to descend from its zenith by the time they passed into Carolus. Patience had made herself quite at home in the car booth. Her bag sat at her side, a crumpled napkin from lunch tossed on the bench opposite of her. She had taken out her jacket to cushion her backside against her wooden seat. She even dared to put up her feet. If anyone noticed, they did not bother to speak up. Having the skull had its perks.

“This place is far,” Anax commented.

“Well, it takes a while to get to a nice beach,” yawned Patience as she glanced out the window. Woods had turned into low, bushy trees. The land had flattened. “We should be there soon.” The girl was beginning to grow restless herself, the hard seat aggravating her situation. She had to put her faith into the words she just spoke.

Nearly another hour had passed before the conductor announced St. Phocas, Carolus as the next stop. Renewed with energy, Patience cleaned up after herself, brushing any crumbs on her clothes onto the floor. She put on her jacket and checked her money again before sitting up properly with her bag on her lap. Craning her neck until Anax’s skull tapped the glass pane, Patience strained for a view of the ocean. For now it remained hidden behind gentle sand dunes in the distance, basking in the fading glow of the day. Passing trees shuttered her vision, drawing her attention to the foreground. Fences and buildings appeared, and soon, so did the town of St. Phocas.

As the train slowed, Patience caught glimpses of the town between the drab railway structures and bushy eastern red cedars. Brightly colored homes glinted like jewels with pearly white-washed buildings interspersed between. Other edifices once clad in dark wood now stood silver after years of lashings from the wind and water. Still the ocean lay beyond them, and Patience was annoyed these human constructions hid the true treasure born by nature.

At last they stopped. Stepping off the train, a blast of cool air hit Patience’s face. Refreshed from the stuffy car, her smile stretched across her cheeks. She jumped onto the wooden platform and sidled to the nearest wall in the small station displaying a map of St. Phocas. About a dozen other people shuffled their way along the platform, already certain of their destinations. Currently still in low season, St. Phocas would not see the bulk of its annual tourists trickle in for another few weeks yet. The lonesome whistle blared as the train continued onward to other places. It took some time before Patience spotted the street on which her hotel was located. Committing the directions to memory, she hefted her carpet bag on her shoulder and trudged forward.

The dying afternoon sun painted long shadows on the ground. A completely new world surrounded the girl and the skull, one made more fantastical with the rose gold light and the gentle call of seabirds echoing around the coastal town. The smell of salt and pelagic musk hung in the air, renewed afresh by mild breezes. Patience took note of the shops and businesses she passed, getting her bearings of the streets.

As they neared the ocean, the distant sound of waves became apparent. Soon the massive expanse of the sea was in sight at the end of the street, peeking between two large buildings. Patience restrained her excitement and promised not to spoil herself just yet; they still had to settle into their room and the light was fading. The waves were a tame roar by the time the girl reached the Tradewinds Hotel.

Patience stood in awe of the massive five-story building. With its back to the sea, it offered the best views of any of the hotels in town. Its impressive shingled facade beamed proudly, flashing its numerous large windows that allowed for grand views of the town and ocean. A deep porch crowned with a balcony wrapped all around the exterior. Pristine chairs and small tables took up all of the outdoor floorspace, ready to host the hotel’s guests at a moment’s notice. Dormers jutted from the highest floor. Patience had her heart set on one of those rooms. The sweeping views of the lower suites did not entice her much. She just wanted her little corner of St. Phocas.

At the front desk, the clerk grew wide-eyed at the sight of Anax before composing himself to handle Patience’s request. He informed her she was in luck. She would get her small dormered room and as she was the only occupant on the top story, the floor’s bathroom would be hers alone. Saving a bit of money, the girl opted for a street view; she would see the ocean plenty during the day.

Receiving her key, Patience nearly sprinted to the staircase, having just enough restraint to not upset a few older matrons who just finished afternoon tea. As they left, the girl flew up the steps. Reaching the very top, she noticed how much lower the ceilings were on her floor. Patience took a quick look at the bathroom down the hall. Her face glowed as she thought of the upcoming days blessed with indoor plumbing. Accounting for the pitch of the roof, the rooms were longer than they were deep. Her cozy room offered the basics and had a writing desk at the far end. Between the foot of the fluffy bed and the washstand was the window Patience had admired from the street. She sat on the cushioned sill and looked out onto the rows of buildings across from the hotel.

“We’re finally here!” Patience breathed. The street lamps buzzed aglow as the sky darkened. People below began to wander out of stores and congregate at bars and restaurants. She figured she would join them.

“How about we find some supper and then treat ourselves to a bath?”

“Yes!” hissed Anax, perhaps even more excited than she was.

The pair found a small deli just about ready to close for the day across the street. Happy to have one last customer as an excuse not to take more meat home, the owner piled on an extra helping of sliced ham on Patience’s sandwich. She brought it back to their room with a bottle of cola and ate lounging on the window seat, safe from an evening chill.

After supper, Patience ventured into the bathroom. Upon entering, a painted privacy screen greeted her, shielding the clawfoot bathtub behind. Two sinks were affixed by the door opposite a separate water closet housing the toilet. She took one of the hotel’s towels from a built-in shelf on the side and stepped behind the panels depicting a bucolic landscape dotted with sheep. The tub’s knobs turned with a squeak. Patience heard a low hum of gas before the gush of water overtook it. Simply seeing the process was almost as wondrous as the bath that was about to come. Undoing her braid, she sat on the ledge watching the water fill the tub and begin to steam. Once it was full and pleasantly hot, the girl undressed and slipped into the bath. Even the strongest borax mix could not clean the smile from her face as she soaked.

“I could never get the water this hot at home for my baths!” Patience sighed.

“Let’s do this every night,” said Anax, a slimy tendril stroking her collarbone.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the trip already. We haven’t even spent a full day here yet.”

“New things to see and do!” Anax trilled.

Her stomach coiled into a knot. She wondered how despondent Anax would be when the time came to return home to the cottage. Small trips were all she could afford with her meager income, even accounting for her inheritance. Patience briefly wished she were of higher birth and had the ability to travel all across the globe like Uncle Lung.

“Let’s take it slow and focus on one thing at a time,” gulped the girl. “You’ll get to appreciate things more.”

“Fair,” said the skull, gelatinous coils swishing across the surface of the water.

With each party placated for now, the girl allowed herself to drift away to distant daydreams. The hot water seeped into all the worst parts of her and masked their existence for a while. Her hands and feet felt free of calluses and warts. Even her burn seemed to melt away into Anax’s slime. In the steaming sea, every blemish was forgotten, leaving a pure and calm soul.