Once Upon a Time 1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

**Chapter 1:**

The punch to her stomach made her double over. A kick to the backs of her knees knocked her to the ground. There, on top of the dirt, she curled up into a tight little ball, arms wrapped around her head, chin tucked in, knees drawn up to her chest, while the village boys kicked and punched every square inch they could reach. They wanted to hear her scream, but she never did. They hit and taunted her for a long time, but finally grew bored by her lack of response.

"She's no fun," the leader of the gang complained as he stalked away.

"She doesn't even cry. It'd be funnier if she cried."

His friends followed, sneering over their shoulders at her as they left, leaving her alone in the field.

She bore the pain, the cuts and bruises—she bore it all, because she knew that even if she cried, if she screamed, nothing would happen. She saw it in the women's averted eyes, and felt it in the hostility that rolled off the men. The adults in her village didn't care—unless she fought back. When she retaliated, someone usually intervened and threw a few kicks as well, but those blows were always aimed at her, not the bullies. The adults would only be too happy if their brats accidentally kicked her too hard or forgot to pull her head out of the river for air, and she died as a result. Most days, she just let them hit her until they grew tired of it. She wasn't sure why everyone hated her so much, but it had always been this way—for as long as she could remember.

After the bullies had left, she stayed on the ground for a long time, with the packed earth cool against her skin—but it wasn't long enough. She had to get up eventually, had to go back to the village, had to face her tormentors again. And if they decided to renew their fun from before, no one would do a thing to help her. Just like every other day. But she couldn't stay here. The sun was setting and it would be dark soon.

The village elders always warned the children about dangerous creatures that roamed the forest at night. She knew that if she stayed, the creatures would kill and eat her, or eat and kill her, and although she didn't really understand death, she knew that being killed and eaten was worse than being beat up by the bullies in the village. She was beat up every day, and she never died; but if she was eaten or killed, she would die.

A sense of self-preservation forced the girl on her hands and knees. After much wincing and gritting of teeth, she pulled herself to her feet, and slowly made her way back home. The shadows in the forest became deeper with every second, elongating into talons that tried to hook into her skin so they could drag her into the dark depths where monsters lurked. She avoided them the best she could, sliding between the claws that lined either side of the forest's path, jumping over them when they joined forces to block her path, running as quickly as her throbbing stomach would allow when the sun sank beneath the horizon.

She slipped out of the forest just in time. After catching her breath, she headed toward the village.

"Cassandra!"

She winced at the name, before looking for the source of the voice, although she knew who it was even before her eyes settled on the old woman standing at the forest's edge.

"Don't call me that," she said.

"It's your name."

"It's my _ma__'s_ name."

"Don't be difficult, child." When she didn't reply, the woman continued to admonish her. "You know you shouldn't be playing in the forest after dark."

"Yes, ma'am," she replied, hanging her head in the appropriate display of shame, hoping it would be enough.

"Gideon and the other boys came back hours ago, like they were supposed to. Why weren't you with them?"

_You know full well why._ But instead of saying anything, she merely kept her head down, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep her tongue in check, as she forced back the hot tears that threatened to fall.

When the lecture had finally ended, she turned on her heel and ran into the village before the old woman could change her mind. Walking between neighbors' houses, she kept her head low, careful not to attract too much attention. She didn't want to get beat up again today. Thankfully, many of the villagers had retired to their homes for the day, taking their children along with them, allowing her to go unnoticed. Soon, she had reached the side of the village that faced the river, and stood before her own small house at the end of a row of buildings. Beneath a patch of luminescence, she began patting down her dress to try and get some of the dirt out of it, grimacing as her hand brushed across her bruised ribs. Forcing herself to ignore the pain, she tried for a bit longer before finally giving up on the dress—nothing short of a thorough scrubbing in the river would get it clean now.

Stepping forward, she pushed open the door and walked into her home. The room beyond was dark, save for the light of a fire in the hearth.

"Cassie? Is that you?" a voice called.

"It's me, Ma," she answered.

She avoided objects in the room as she walked toward the outline of her mother, who was sitting before the crackling flame. The path within the cabin was as familiar to her as the back of her hand, and she discerned the furniture by the varying depths of darkness before her eyes. When she reached her mother on the other side of the room, she clucked her tongue in disapproval.

"Ma, how many times have I told you not to sit so close to the fire? You'll get hurt and you won't even know it."

She pulled on her mother's arm until the woman got off of her seat. Moving the chair back several feet, she guided her mother back into the chair. She went into the bedroom, where she knew a thick quilt sat folded on the bench inside. Picking it up, she brought it over and placed the fabric over her mother's lap, tucking in the bottom so the embers couldn't catch it alight.

Going to the table in the room's center, she climbed a chair, then leaned over and pulled out a loaf of bread that sat in the basket there. With a knife, she sliced two thick pieces from the loaf, then paired each with one slice of cheese. Hopping off the chair, she handed the larger portion to her mother before sitting down on the earthen floor.

"Where have you been all day, Cassie?"

"I was… out in the forest," she replied between mouthfuls of bread and cheese.

In a matter of moments, she had devoured her dinner, and set about preparing the next day's meal. Picking up the small iron pot that sat beside the fireplace by its handle, she lugged the heavy pot the three steps needed to stand before the hearth, her shoulders and spine bent back to compensate for its weight. Setting it down before the fireplace, she went to retrieve water from a bucket they kept by the back door. Once the pot had been filled with liquid and pushed toward the fire, she began cutting up the roots and vegetables on the table. The slices were awkward and misshapen, the work of a child who had never been taught the craft, but no one would mind.

She realized her mother had been silent for a while now, and chanced a glance. The bottom half of her mother's face was lit in a soft orange, showing the slight frown that marred the woman's features; the upper half was hidden in shadow. When her mother leaned forward suddenly and grasped her wrist, she left the shadows entirely, revealing empty hollows where eyes should have been.

Startled, Cassie tried to draw back, but her mother's grip was too strong. "Ma, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

There was no reply. Instead, the void of her mother's sockets faced straight ahead, causing Cassie to fidget where she stood, plucking at the frayed ends of her dress with her free hand. She knew her mother couldn't see, but she felt as if every smudge of dirt on her face and every muddy print on her dress was under careful scrutiny.

Finally, a sigh escaped the woman's lips. "I'm sorry, honey," her mother said, releasing her wrist. "Things will be better when your pa returns."

Cassie patted her mother's hand comfortingly, but didn't give a verbal response. It was something her mother said often, like a bedtime story that left her dreaming of a happier life, with a father who would chase away her tormentors with a hoe and dark curses; and then hold her in his strong arms afterward, uttering assurances about keeping the little monsters at bay. But like bedtime stories, their magic diminished with age; and the images they painted in her mind faded to stark reality, leaving only the ugliness that surrounded her day after day.

Solemnly, she gathered the vegetables she had chopped from the table as she thought about the fish she would catch the next day to add to the concoction. She carefully dropped her burden into the pot so the hot water wouldn't splash back on her, added whatever herbs she could find, and then began stirring the pot in slow circular motions with a long wooden spoon, causing the contents to move to the rhythm she had set. She watched as the liquid swirled, catching up the chunks of vegetables in its wake. Round and round, the assortment bobbing merrily, the fire's glow lighting up the surface, her face reflected in the contents, then her mother's image replacing her in the center.

The longer she stared into the whirling vortex, the faster they came. They flew across her vision in a flurry of color and images. An old woman falling before a sword; another woman jiggling a blue-eyed babe on her hip; the inside of a cage; a dark-haired man being torn in half by a ferocious creature.

A strangled groan escaped her lips as her knees gave out. The spoon dropped beside her as she fell to a heap on the floor. Each image had only lasted for one or two seconds before being snatched away in the artificial current. She hadn't been able to see them all, and could discern little between one and the next. But for every glimpse she'd caught, there were a hundred—a thousand—more that flashed past too quickly for the eye to catch. There had been so many—all of them concurrently invading her mind and demanding her attention—that she had been overwhelmed.

"Cassie?" The quilt fell to the floor as her mother lurched forward to hold her. "Are you okay?"

Her vision swam, and the room seemed to coalesce into one jumbled mass of shapes and shades; her head pounded, as if the things she had witnessed were beating on it from within, trying to force their way back out. It was all too much, and she could feel bile rising in her throat. She hid behind closed lids and pressed herself pitifully into her mother's arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

**Chapter 2: **

She woke the next morning to the crowing of the town's roosters. Not wanting to subject herself to the chill of dawn yet, she sidled closer to her mother on their small bed while pulling the quilt tighter around them, reveling in the warmth. She stayed that way for a while longer, but knew that if she wanted to catch any fish that morning, she would need to go down to the river early. With a sigh, she wriggled out from beneath the quilt, being careful not to disturb her still-slumbering mother.

There was a sharp intake of breath as the cold air hit her. Locking her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering, she padded out of the small bedroom. In the main room, she grabbed her woolen shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders, tying a tight knot with the ends to keep the garment from falling off. Dressed, she grabbed her father's old fishing pole and an empty pail, and then left the quiet house to make her way down to the riverbed.

It was marginally warmer outside the house, and she was relieved to see that most of her neighbors had yet to venture out. The trip down the slope was short, and soon she was setting her pail and pole down on an even patch of land. Then, being careful not to lose her balance and make even more of a mess out of her dress, she bent over the muddy ground. The mud squelched beneath her bare feet and oozed between her fingers as she dug around for the inhabitants of the earth. Each wriggling worm she extracted from the ground was tossed into the pail. This had always been her favorite part of the activity, in her vague recollections of fishing with her father; back then, she had never worried about dirtying her clothes. Once she deemed there were enough, she found her favorite little boulder that lay right at the water's edge. It reached just over her shoulders, and the sides curved into a smooth, flat surface that made for a perfect seat.

She placed the items on the boulder before scrambling over herself, using the smaller rocks as steps. She had to grit her teeth as her bruises pressed against the hard side, but she finally settled into her perch. She then hooked the worms and threw the line into the water. With the wooden pole clutched between her hands, legs swinging against the stone, she waited for the fish to bite.

* * *

When Cassie returned home a couple hours later, she dropped off her items by the door before making her way across the room. Kneeling before the hearth, she rekindled the embers that had died out overnight. While the heat began to radiate from the fireplace and warm the surrounding space, she went out the back to prepare the day's catch. After cleaning and gutting the fish—something that required more skill than simply stabbing a knife through the meat, as she had learned through experience—she placed them on glowing embers to cook.

There were sounds of movement coming from the bedroom. It was good timing, because the fish were just about ready, their fragrance wafting through the room. It was the next part that was hard. She stared at the black pot intently for a long time, gathering her courage for what was about to happen. Taking a deep breath, she peeked over the rim into the pot. She waited, but nothing surged out at her; there was only the soup. It was as if the events of the previous night had never even transpired. Reassured that no monsters laid in wait inside the pot, she began to ladle the contents into bowls.

She was in the process of carefully separating the fish meat from the fine white bones when her mother came into the room. The woman felt her way to the back, where Cassie could hear the sounds of her cleaning up. A few moments later, her mother had seated herself at the table, and Cassie set a plate in front of her.

"Careful, there might still be bones," she cautioned.

"I know how to eat fish, Cassie," her mother sighed, taking up her utensils.

Cassie saw her mother's hand trembling as it tried to lift the morsels of food to her mouth; half the time, the pieces of fish fell back onto the plate, or the liquid splashed back into the bowl, leaving her mother to bite down on an empty spoon. It was an agonizing scene to watch. Cassie would have helped, but her mother refused to be fed like a child, so Cassie could only ignore it and concentrate on her own food. She picked up her own utensil and began spooning soft carrots into her mouth.

The meal passed in relative silence. When they'd finished eating, her mother rinsed off the plates while Cassie prepared for another trip outside. Standing atop a chair, she wrapped bandages around her mother's eyes, being careful not to tie the strips of cloth too tight. The townspeople found her mother's condition unsightly and frightening, and while Cassie could have cared less what they thought, her mother wanted to lessen their discomfort as much as possible. When she was finished, she retrieved their shawls and they left the safety of their home together.

They joined the other women walking down the dirt road, all going in the same direction. Aside from the initial glances they received, the women mostly left them alone, and no one attempted to start a conversation. As they approached their destination, Cassie's steps slowed until she was literally dragging her feet in the dirt. She had tried many times to dissuade her mother from attending these gatherings, but her mother insisted on participating. According to her, it was a chance to socialize with the other villagers and maintain friendly relations—Cassie could even play with the other children. Cassie would just as soon make friends with the pigs in the neighbor's sty than those monsters. But part of her knew that if they helped with the work, they would get a portion of the harvest, and food was something they couldn't turn down.

Following the other women into the house, Cassie looked around the main room. There, in the corner, she spotted her tormentors from the previous day. Gideon, the leader of the group, was surrounded by his friends, and appeared to be quite excited. His hands and arms were waving around wildly, his face slightly flushed as he spoke to the other boys. Cassie's ribs hurt simply looking at them, so she turned away, joining her mother on the opposite side of the room. The adults had all claimed a chair or bench around a blanket spread on the floor; their daughters sat by their feet, with several large piles of corn stacked between them. She found a spot by her mother and tried not to fidget in discomfort from the stares as she stripped the thick green husks from the corn one by one. Luckily, they all ignored her once the work got underway. And pretty soon, the women had begun a lively conversation of their own as they tossed corn husks onto the blanket.

She only half-listened to what they were saying, not overly concerned with whose pigs had just given birth or whose goat needed to be put down.

"... Just where _is_ that woman?"

"Mary, did Beth say anything about not coming today?"

"No… I haven't heard from her since yesterday."

"That was when she woke up to find the fence behind her house smashed in, right?"

"I heard about that, too. All her chickens escaped the pen, poor thing."

"They apparently found a trail of feathers and blood leading into the forest."

"Do you think it was bandits?"

"Such a frightening thought!"

"When she and her husband were building their house, we told them it was a bad idea to have it so close to the forest. But did they listen? Now look what's happened."

Several hours later, the work had been completed and the leftovers were taken out back to feed the pigs. Everyone exchanged farewells as they collected their children and began filing out of the house. Her mother smiled and uttered goodbyes as well, but most of the others only ignored her. Cassie waited by the door, a full basket of corn in her arms, their commission for the day's work. When her mother finally walked over, a discouraged smile on her face, Cassie took her hand and they left the house together.

As they were walking back home, a scream pierced the air. People around her began to run toward the sound, their children's hands clutched tightly in their own.

"Who's screaming?" her mother asked anxiously.

"I don't know. Somebody probably just fell over," she replied, pulling her mother toward their house. But her mother wouldn't budge. Instead, Cassie was being towed in the direction of the scream.

"Ma, just leave them be!" she said, digging in her heels.

"Cassie! Someone could be in trouble. We should be there to offer our assistance."

Her mother was surprisingly strong, and Cassie found herself with little choice but to follow grudgingly, steering them away from the walls and fences. The screaming had long since died down, but she only had to head toward the crowd of people gathered by the forest. They stopped at the edge of the crowd; everyone was speaking in hushed murmurs.

"What's happening?" her mother asked.

One of the women from earlier responded. "Mary just ran out of the forest screaming. We've been trying to calm her down enough to talk."

Cassie peered between skirts that formed a loose circle. Indeed, in the center of the throng sat Mary. The woman was in hysterics, bloody hands covering her face as she sobbed, the front of her white apron stained red. Two others knelt to either side of her, rubbing her back and making soothing sounds. Slowly, hiccups replaced the gasping sobs, and Mary's hands were slowly pried from her face, leaving red streaks along her pale skin.

"Mary, tell us what happened."

"I went to check on Beth and I s-saw the blood… I thought it was from the chickens, but t-that's not…" She dissolved into tears again, and merely pointed at a part of the ground several feet away.

Concerned looks were exchanged, then two people went to inspect the area. When they returned, both sported confused expressions.

"It leads into the forest, but it's only dried blood."

Cassie wandered off in the direction Mary had pointed earlier, her basket left behind by her mother. When she was a fair distance from the main group, she spotted a patch of flattened grass that had been colored brown by dried blood. The flattened area was large—but it was only one area in front of Beth's splintered fence. Looking around, she spotted a similar imprint in the ground several feet away; it was the same size as the first one. Beneath the canopy of trees, she found another—something had obviously come this way.

Cassie glanced up and thought she saw a shadow dart between the trees. Her heart rate sped up and she looked again, but the shade was gone. From the brief glance she'd caught, she thought its outline had appeared human. Of course it was a human—someone from the village. It couldn't be a monster; those only came out at night—everyone knew that. It was probably the boys trying to frighten her. Well, she wouldn't be so easily scared. But as she plowed on, she kept seeing that shadow, that flicker of movement between tree trunks, the bright moon shining overhead—no, no. She shook her head to dispel the images. What was wrong with her? There was no moon—it was still day out. She tried to concentrate on the tracks in the grass as she followed them; eventually another trail appeared beside the first, but this one was a thick line in the grass, twice the width of Cassie's own small frame. The canopy overhead became thicker and the patches of sunlight fewer the deeper she ventured.

She had to skirt the base of a particularly large oak, and when the path ahead was clear again, her heart nearly stopped. There was a bulky creature ahead of her. She'd never seen a wolf before, but if she had to guess, this would be it. Its appearance was similar to that of the stray dogs that roamed the streets begging pitifully for scraps, except much larger. It was perhaps a head taller than she was, and covered in gray fur. It moved on all fours, leaving the imprints she had been following until now. Then she heard the screams. Between the creature's legs, she saw a long snout pulled back to reveal a long row of canines. And clutched in the sharp teeth were two figures. One of them was limp, while the other was struggling weakly to escape; both were covered in blood.

Her feet became rooted to the spot, rendering her unable to do anything but watch. One of the people being dragged picked up a thick branch from the ground and stabbed it in the creature's snout, and kept stabbing blindly until the stick went into a glowing yellow eye. The creature howled in agony and tossed its burden to the side. Cassie thought she heard the sound of bones breaking as their bodies collided with a tree. Then the creature tore into them with claws and teeth, staining its muzzle red.

She hadn't screamed when the bullies had kicked and pummeled her, no matter how long they'd been at it—in fact, she couldn't recall the last time she'd made the distressing sound, but this time the sound tore itself out of her throat before she could suppress it. Afraid the creature would come for her next, she turned and ran, crashing through the brush, just barely grazing past the trees that blocked her path. She stumbled over roots and slipped on leaves that blanketed the ground, but she would scramble back up and continue running. She saw a group of people on horseback further ahead—soldiers, the sun glinting off their polished armor and shield—and she changed direction toward them, crying for help. The men disappeared just as she approached, and for a moment she stood in the patch of light, disoriented. Her eyes darted from left to right, but there was no one in sight. Frightened that perhaps this place harbored creatures other than the wolf, she took flight again. Things materialized in her path—hideous giants, men with axes, snarling beasts—and rushed at her. She screamed again, raising her arms to ward off their attacks as she ran. She plowed through them, and their forms vanished without a trace, just like the soldiers from before.

Finally, she saw the cabins beyond, the women still gathered there. More relieved to see her neighbors than she had ever been before, she burst out of the woods. She saw everyone jump at her sudden appearance, their eyes widening at her state of distress.

"We have to get out of here! There was a wolf in the forest!" she cried, gesturing behind her frantically.

Anxiety rose in the crowd as people took several steps back, looking past her to see if the wolf had followed.

"What in the world are you talking about?"

She looked over to see that the men had joined their wives in the throng. Most of them were giving her disapproving looks, but she didn't care—getting everyone away from here was more important.

"I followed these tracks into the forest and then I saw this wolf—it was gigantic—and it had two people in its mouth and then the man stabbed its eye with a branch. That made the wolf angry and it started tearing the man into pieces—and there was a woman in a blue dress, but she wasn't moving—"

"She's lying!" someone shouted, cutting her off.

Everyone had been staring at Cassie in bewilderment, but now their attention turned to the source of the outburst. Cassie saw Mary glaring at her accusingly; she was still sitting on the ground, but the women by her side earlier had been replaced by her husband.

"Beth and Robert were already d-dead when I f-found them. There's no way she could have seen it happen. She's lying!"

There were gasps from the others at the grim news. Cassie, unable to get the woman's words out of her mind, barely heard them.

"I'm not lying!" she shouted at last, enraged. Why would she lie about something as stupid as this? She searched the other villagers' faces, looking for someone—anyone—who would hear her out, and found only disbelief mixed with disapproval; it finally dawned on her that none of them believed her.

"I really saw the wolf kill those people," she pleaded with them. "We have to get out of here."

"Maybe the kid is telling the truth," one of the men spoke up. "I mean, the forest goes for miles in either direction. There could be something in there somewhere and we wouldn't even know it."

"He's got a point. Maybe we should get some weapons together and hunt it down before it kills any more people." This suggestion was met with a general murmur of agreement from the women, who offered to go fetch torches for the hunting party.

"Don't tell me you actually believe the brat."

"A wolf would explain the chickens. And something had to have killed those two people."

"What about the fence? It would have to be huge to do that kind of damage, and we all know they don't get that big. Come on, have more sense than that," another man said.

"If you don't believe me, go in and see for yourself!" she shouted, stabbing a finger in the direction she'd come from. "Go on, and don't blame me if you get clawed and eaten!"

"You watch your mouth, you little—"

"That's enough!" the old woman from last night stepped forward, grabbing Cassie roughly by the arm and dragging her away from the others.

"Let go of me!" she demanded.

She tried to wrench free, but the woman dug her nails into Cassie's arm until she had to cease struggling. Cassie couldn't believe how stupid these people were. She searched around for her mother—she would believe her—but she couldn't find her familiar face anywhere in the crowd. Had she already returned home?

The old woman marched her down the dirt path in the middle of the village, right to Cassie's front door. The woman knocked loudly on the wood, and a moment later, Cassie's mother had stepped outside.

"Hello? Who is it?"

"Ma, I—" Cassie began, but was cut off when the person who held her shook her roughly. She glared at the old woman.

"It's me, Cassandra," the old woman said in her rasp of a voice.

"Oh, Edith! How are you this day? Did you hear about what happened to Mary?"

The old woman ignored the greeting. "Cassandra, your daughter has been stirring up trouble in the village—spreading blatant lies about a giant wolf to unsettle the adults and frighten the children. It's a good thing no one is foolish enough to believe her, or we'd have a panic on our hands."

"I did no such thing—I saw it attack those people!"

"You hear that? Claims to have _seen_ it happen," the old woman scoffed. "But Mary saw Beth and Robert's bodies long before your daughter made up her tale."

"It must have just been a bad dream," her mother said in a placating tone, an apologetic smile on her lips.

"It wasn't, Ma! I saw!"

"Quiet!"

Cassie's eyes widened at the harsh tone; her mother never scolded her. With a huff, the old woman turned on her heel and stalked off, leaving Cassie and her mother alone in front of their house.

After a moment of silence, her mother spoke, "Come inside."

A hand was placed on Cassie's shoulder, but she shrugged it off and stalked past her mother into the house. She heard the door shut and her mother's footsteps coming toward her. Her mother stood in front of her, setting both hands on her shoulders this time; they pressed down and refused to be dislodged.

"Listen to me, Cassandra. You mustn't ever speak of these dreams of yours again."

"But they're not dreams!"

"It would be best if they were. Don't try to remember them, decipher them, or tell others of them." Her mother gripped her tightly. "Do you understand?"

It was the most intense Cassie had ever seen her mother, and her tone brooked no argument. Reluctantly, she agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

**Chapter 3:**

The moon glowed overhead; when the orb was full like this, the light was at its most potent. Sitting on her boulder by the river, Cassie could see the bed of tiny pebbles that lined the bank; she had collected several handfuls before climbing the boulder, and they were now pooled in her apron. The water in front of her reflected the serene sphere overhead; its image rippled and distorted as she flung a rock at its center, then again when it had settled, and again.

There was a tightness in her chest that had nothing to do with fear. She was recalling the scene from earlier, when she'd tried to warn everyone about the beast. As she plunked stone after stone into that impassive face, she silently cursed the people of her village. She'd tried to warn them, but they were all too pigheaded to listen. But like it or not, she expected that type of treatment from them.

She didn't understand, however, why even her own mother didn't believe her. She called them dreams, but Cassie knew that what she'd seen that afternoon had been no such thing. Maybe the people hadn't been Beth and her husband; she hadn't gotten a close enough look at their faces to recognize them. It could have been some other couple from a neighboring village who didn't know about the monsters, or else they would've been more careful. The beast's snarls, the man's screams, the sound of the bones cracking and the flesh tearing—she just _knew_ those had been real; they _couldn't_ be dreams.

When she ran out of projectiles, Cassie uncrossed her legs and allowed them to dangle over the boulder's side. She lay back on the rock's flat surface, heedless of how it dug into her shoulders and spine. She observed the denizens above, noting how the stars appeared subdued in comparison to the moon tonight. It had been a long day, and her eyes were steadily growing heavier. She shut them for a short while, just a moment.

* * *

She shivered. It was cold. Why was it cold? She tried to pull the quilt closer, but her groping hand couldn't find the soft material. As she turned on her side to extend her reach, the bed dropped out from under her, and she landed on the floor. There were a lot of sharp objects stabbing into her side, but she was unable to recall what they might have been.

Forcing her eyes open, it took Cassie a moment to recognize her surroundings. With a groan, she realized she must have fallen asleep outside. Picking herself up off the bed of rocks, she made her way back home. Needing to get away from the house, she had snuck away in the middle of the night to vent her anger. Hopefully, her mother hadn't noticed her absence.

She made as little noise as possible when entering the house, and carefully crept to the bedroom. The door was closed and she couldn't hear any noise beyond—a good sign that she had not been missed. But when the slab of wood swung open, the room was empty, and her mother's boots weren't by the bed. She searched the small cabin, but couldn't find her anywhere. Where could her mother be? Worried, she tore through the front door to search outside, but was accosted by a sudden gust of wind.

Dirt and grains of sand blew into her eyes. Through the streaming tears, she thought she saw her mother's figure stumbling down the road ahead; the sound of Cassie's name carried back to her on the wind.

"Ma! I'm here, Ma!" she called, trying to get her attention. But her mother didn't turn around.

Cassie ran after the retreating figure, calling her with every step, but she never seemed to get any closer. Despite the late hour, when most would have been asleep in bed, a group of women occupied the roadside, their laughter penetrating the night; several children formed a ring up ahead, kicking something small in the dirt between them. Nobody so much as turned a head as Cassie ran past.

Her mother groped her way along the fences to each house beside the road, knocking on the doors, but as soon as Cassie reached that house, her mother had already appeared at the next one down the line. Between one moment and the next, Cassie completely lost sight of her mother. That was when the unmistakable sound of howling filled the air. She gave an involuntary shudder, only just now realizing how close she was to the territory of monsters at night.

Unbidden, the horrible scene she had witnessed that afternoon arose in her mind. This time, she registered details she hadn't noticed at the time—the splintered end of a wooden rod that protruded from the creature's shoulder, and the matted brown of the fur around that area; the curtain of blonde hair that had hidden the woman's face parting when the creature tossed her aside, revealing Beth's round face beneath; the beast's claws making quick work of their bodies. The wolf would be on the hunt for food now, she knew, and she didn't want to be anywhere near the house where those chickens had been plucked from their pen. But she couldn't leave without finding her mother.

She realized with a start that the darkness above was fading to ever-lighter shades of blue. Her eyes swept the surrounding area, but there was no sign of life ye—there, on the far side of the road back the way she had come sat a house with its light on. She staggered toward the cabin and began pounding on the door with hands bruised and scratched from her fall—or was it from her flight through the forest? It didn't matter; she kept up the action until the wood swung inward, revealing a very angry-looking Edith in the doorway.

"What do you think you're doing?" the old woman demanded.

"My ma—have you seen my ma?" Cassie asked frantically.

"She came by here in the middle of the night, asking about you. And here you are, before the sun has even properly risen, asking about her! What are the two of you playing at?"

"Where is she now?"

"If she has any sense, she'd have done like I told her and gone back home."

Cassie shook her head. "She wasn't there when I came home. Now I can't find her at all."

"You sure she didn't just go to the outhouse?"

"No, I checked everywhere."

"I _told_ Cassandra to wait for you back home. I don't know what that woman was thinking, going off on her own like that," the old woman muttered.

"We have to find her. She could have stumbled and fallen. She could be hurt and no one would even know. Please—"

"Enough!"

The door was slammed in Cassie's face, and her heart sank. She was just about to turn away and continue the search on her own when Edith walked out, a thick shawl thrown over her shoulders. The old woman marched onto the main road.

"We're going to ask around about your ma."

She followed the old woman to a neighbor's house, where Edith knocked on the door. After a long moment, a stout man appeared.

"What?" he growled, clearly irritated.

"Cassandra's missing. Have you seen her?"

"Only thing I seen is the inside of my eyelids. And that's what I'd like to go back to seeing."

Then, for the second time that night, Cassie got a door slammed in her face. They moved on to the next cabin, and the next, and the next, but found no clues to her mother's whereabouts.

"She came by last night looking for you. We told her you were like as not just trying to give her a scare, or having a tantrum somewhere. She went off after that."

"We told her to get lost, of course. We needed to get our rest—we had _real_ work to do in the morning. Not everyone can just sit around the house all day waiting for food to show up on the doorstep, you know."

"She wanted us to leave our houses in the middle of the night to help look for her brat. Of course we said no."

It was all Cassie could do to rein in her anger at her neighbors and keep her tongue in check. As it was, her hands were balled into fists, shaking in fury as she stomped down the road. The silence of the village was broken by a collection of crowing. Cassie blinked, distracted; she hadn't even noticed the other colors of the rainbow creeping along the horizon. Dawn had arrived while they wasted time going door to door when they should have been searching the surrounding area. As they approached one of the final houses at the end of the path, a woman stomped over to them. Cassie recognized her as Mary, the person who had called her a liar the previous day. She scowled; she already knew that this person wouldn't be willing to help her.

"You!" Mary shouted, her face filling up with splotches of red. Mary pointed a shaky finger at Cassie. "How dare you do this!"

"I haven't done anything."

"Don't you dare deny it! I know it was you, probably trying to get back at me for exposing your lie. Then you can blame it all on the wolf—as if anyone would believe that!"

Before Cassie could reply, Edith had asked, "Mary, what are you talking about?"

"See for yourself!" The woman led them behind her house, where they found what appeared to be the messy remains of several sheep. Chunks of meat and clumps of wool were scattered all over the pen; the scent of blood permeated the air.

"The wolf!" Cassie exclaimed, turning to Edith. "If the wolf was here and my ma was out looking for me, it could have taken her! We have to form a search party to save my ma! Hurry—before it's too late!"

She grabbed Edith's sleeve, begging for her help, but the old woman merely looked at her dubiously.

"Why aren't you doing anything? The beast—"

"I thought we were past this nonsense. There _is_ no gigantic creature lurking around."

"But… but you always tell us there are monsters in the forest…"

"For goodness' sake, you ridiculous child! That's just a tale to keep the children from getting into trouble. But you have taken this game entirely too far—"

Cassie backed away, shaking her head disbelievingly. She was lying—the old woman was lying. It couldn't be true. They were just too scared to go up against the beast. She turned and ran toward the border that divided the village from the wilderness. If they weren't going to help, she would find her mother without them.

* * *

She found a space between the thick roots that dug into the earth and collapsed against the sturdy trunk at her back. When she had entered the forest, she had crashed haphazardly through the terrain with no clear direction, and it had been a while before she'd realized she had no clues where the wolf or her mother was. Somehow, she found herself returned to the location where she had seen the first attack and found the remains of Beth and her husband. There wasn't as much left as the first time she'd seen them, although there were two new mounds of earth beneath the tree where they had been killed.

From there, she'd found the bloody tracks the wolf had left behind—so much larger than all the other animal prints clustered around the remains—and followed them deeper into the woods. Incredibly, the wolf's prints had steadily reduced in size. At first she'd thought she'd made a mistake, and the tracks actually belonged to some other creature, but when they disappeared altogether, she became convinced. The monsters only came out in the dark, so it made sense that it would take on a different form during the day. But where had it gone?

She had no idea how long she had been running around since then, simply hoping to stumble across the creature. Judging by the sun's position high overhead, it had been hours, and yet she had found nothing. Her throat was sore from all the shouting, but she had never been rewarded with a response. Tears of frustration rolled down her face. There was nothing here.

After a while, she stood back up and began walking again. Every part of the forest looked the same, and she had no idea where to look. Even so, she continued onward.

Eventually, after wandering the land for she knew not how long, fighting the dizziness from hunger and thirst, she found herself back at the beginning. She could see the village's buildings on the other side of the trees. Her throat burned with the need for water; her legs wobbled, threatening to spill her into the dirt; and her hands shook against the natural column she used as a support; but all these sensations were overpowered by the bitter disappointment that rose within her at the sight.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

**Chapter 4:**

Cassie had red hair, wild and unruly like her mother's. Her eyes were her mother's as well—back when she still had them—blue like the sky. Her mother had once told her that her grandmother, too, had possessed these features, and it made Cassie feel like a part of them remained with her. She didn't know if some part of her belonged to her father, didn't even really remember him—she thought that he perhaps had dark hair and kind features. He had left to fight in the Ogre Wars years ago, and had never come back. She still missed them, sometimes, as she sat alone in the house, huddled beneath the quilt she had once shared with her mother. But she didn't allow herself to cry. Crying made the others notice, and nothing good ever happened when they noticed.

Nothing in the village had changed since two moons ago. If anything, it was worse. Because her parents were gone. Because she saw what others could not see. She didn't understand it herself, the images. Sometimes they were so clear and sharp, she swore they were real. Other times they were blurred, indistinct, ever-changing; she needed only to reach out a hand and they would dissolve into mist. Most of the time they were somewhere in the middle, halfway between reality and fantasy, a waking dream. But the one thing they all had in common was that no one else ever saw them, only her—just one more reason for the other children to torment her. Except now, she didn't even have her mother. At day's end, all that awaited her was an empty house.

* * *

The wind was at her back, speeding her along as the vast shimmering sea passed by below. She was flying away—away from her home, away from her life—and it felt wonderful. In the distance, she could see a spot on the surface of the water, enlarging to become an island in the sea. Without conscious effort, she descended toward land, and touched down upon sandy shores.

Cassie spun around, her body light with exhilaration. Gone were the structures of her village and the people who lived there. There was no one else on this stretch of sea and sand and jungle but her. Waves lapped invitingly at her toes, drawing her attention to the horizon. She had never known such a large expanse of water that it completely separated her from the world beyond. She wasn't sure where this new land was, but it was magnificent—if only for that reason. For the first time in a long time, Cassie smiled as the freedom settled over her. She reached down to the sand at her feet and tossed a fistful into the air, then proceeded to shake the grains out of her hair, which was wild and tangled from her journey.

"And who do we have here?"

Cassie whirled around and was shocked to find a boy standing behind her. Where had he come from? She had been certain she was the only person here.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Peter Pan. I live here. And who are you?"

"I—what are you?" she gasped, bringing her hands to her face, pressing them against her eyes. She wanted to block the scenes playing in her mind, but they would not be deterred.

"Well, that's a strange question to ask. Can't you see I'm a boy? Just a regular—"

"No—not a boy. Not a boy and not a man. A monster in disguise, whose days slip away with the falling sand." Silence followed this statement.

"How do you know that?" The stranger's tone had changed; less feigned amusement and more icy edge.

Cassie lowered her hands. She didn't know where the words had come from—or rather, the images that inspired the words. She never knew. But looking at him now, he didn't appear any different from other boys she knew. Older, perhaps, but that was all.

"I-I don't know," she told him. "I see things, sometimes. I don't know what they mean, but they're like moving pictures around me."

"Well, it seems like you've brought me someone interesting."

Cassie frowned. This statement didn't sound like it was being directed at her. Then her eyes grew wide at the shadow hovering beside the boy, detached from any bodies that she could see. The shadow had the form of a man, with glowing white eyes. She began to back away from the monster.

"Oh, don't be frightened. It's just my shadow," the boy told her.

"But it isn't attached to you."

"Well, that's because of magic."

"Magic?" she asked dubiously. She had heard of magic back home, but she had never heard of it doing something like this.

"That's right. This is Neverland, and the island is overflowing with it. As long as you believe, anything is possible."

"Anything?" she leaned forward. "My ma, could I see my ma again?"

The boy didn't reply, and she could feel hope tearing at her heart like a beast.

"I'm afraid not," he said after a long pause. "Neverland is for children only. Adults don't belong here."

A wave of disappointment crashed down on her, but she couldn't let it show. Hastily, she scrubbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, furious at her own weakness.

"Did something happen to your mother?" he asked.

She regarded him warily, but saw only concern in his expression, and it prompted her to answer. "She was taken by the wolf."

"Wolf?"

She launched into a retelling of the events that had led to her current situation. Once she began, she couldn't stop. Frustration and bitterness coated every word that spilled out of her mouth. It felt good to tell someone else about the events, even as the blood rushed to her face with the renewed anger. But now that her secrets—the images, the wolf, her mother disappearing into the forest—were out, she braced herself for more accusations.

"Well, it sounds like your village is full of fools," he said at last.

"You believe me?" she asked in astonishment.

"Of course I do."

"But… why? Nobody else does."

"If you say you weren't lying, then I believe you. Those others, they're prejudiced against you because you have something they don't."

She frowned in confusion. Unable to come up with an answer, she finally asked, "What's that?"

"Power. A gift. _Magic_."

"But I don't have magic."

"You do, you just don't know that's what it is. This ability you have, to see things no one else can, things that have already happened—that's magic."

"But everyone says magic is evil."

"That's because they are ignorant fools. They don't understand it, so they denounce it as evil. But you have magic, so tell me: are you evil? I have magic as well. Have I done anything to make you think _I'm_ evil?"

Cassie considered this. The argument seemed logical; she certainly didn't feel evil. And the boy sounded so earnest, she found it difficult not to believe him.

"So this power I have… the things I see—they're real?"

"Most definitely. After all, you knew my past with just a glance. And you were right. I didn't always have this form." He gestured at himself.

"I used to be a grown man, but I saw around me the deceitful lives that all adults led, the treachery and lies that they spun, hurting others—hurting _children_—who had done no wrong… Well, I couldn't do it. I couldn't live like that, so I came to this island, where my youth was restored to me. So I would never have to be like those people in your village again—hurting innocent children, depriving them of their family, of their mothers."

Cassie realized that her cheeks were damp. Quickly, she brought up both hands to wipe them dry. But Peter Pan didn't say anything. There were no taunts, no delighted smile at seeing her tears, no gleam in his eyes at witnessing her moment of weakness. He was different from the boys she knew.

"You were right about my days being numbered as well," he continued. "Though I am a child at heart, this is not my natural form. And when the sand in my hourglass runs out, I will die. It doesn't matter if _I_ die, except that this land—where children in need of reprieve from the cruel world beyond come to play—would die with me. And then children like you would have no place to go."

She looked around the beach sadly. Although she hadn't explored the island yet, she already liked this place; it would be a shame to see it disappear. "Isn't there any way to save the island?" she asked.

"I've been searching for a way to extend my life, so that this place can be a safe haven for abused children forever."

"Is that possible?" Perhaps then, she wouldn't have to leave.

"Yes, but I'll need your help. Now, I know a thing or two about magic, and I'm fairly certain that it isn't just the past that you see. You can see the future as well, can't you?"

"I don't know… How do I tell the difference?"

"Just tell me everything that you learn about me, and I'll know whether it's from the past or the future."

"But I've never tried to see anything before—the pictures just come on their own."

"This gift is a natural part of you. Just focus on me, and the magic will do the rest."

She looked at him doubtfully; she had never been encouraged to seek out the images before—they had always been declared dreams and lies. But he believed in them, and continued to reassure and encourage her. So she closed her eyes and attempted to prepare herself for the onslaught of images. When she opened them again, she concentrated on Peter Pan. He was taller than her by two heads, with pale skin that appeared to cast a faint light of its own. There were smudges of dirt all over his skin, much—she knew—like her own. His eyes were green and intent. He wore a hopeful expression—hopeful for the continued existence of Neverland.

When the images came, her eyes flitted left and right, trying to catch and hold one, but they were too fast; she couldn't keep up. There was another hindrance as well. It felt as if she was viewing everything through a thick film, and the separator distorted the images, causing them to become clouded and indistinct. It confused her; this had never happened before.

After a while, she could feel a headache coming on. With a soft moan, she sat down on a nearby log and leaned forward, pressing her head against her knees.

"What did you see?" Peter Pan asked anxiously from beside her.

She shook her head slowly to avoid provoking more pain. "I couldn't see anything that would help you."

When she had recovered, she lifted her head and glanced over at the silent boy. He wore a frown on his features, and she knew that she had disappointed him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I really wanted to help. Maybe… Maybe I can't really see the future."

"It's okay." His face lifted toward the sky. "The sun is about to rise. I'm afraid it's time for you to go back home."

"But I don't want to go back," she protested. "I want to stay."

"I know, but Neverland is a place where children come in their dreams. I'm the only one who is able to stay here permanently, because my life is tied to the island."

She began grasping at straws. "Then… Can I come back tomorrow night?"

Peter Pan smiled at her. "Of course. I look forward to your next visit."

She then found herself being lifted into the air by an unseen force, and being transported across the water. The boy and the island became smaller and smaller until she could see them no more. The next thing she knew, she was on a bed, the familiar walls of her room surrounding her.

When the town's roosters announced dawn's arrival, she jumped out of bed and went about her daily routine. She hurried through every chore, impatiently awaiting the sun's descent, when she could travel to Neverland again.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

**Chapter 5:**

There was birdsong from the branches, accompanied by the chatter of cicadas in the woods. Cassie tuned out these distractions and tried to focus on a single point in front of her—the knot in a tree. Different hues drifted into existence at the edges of her vision; she resisted the urge to follow them, and merely waited for them to take form.

She had been back to Neverland two more times since her first journey, and each time Peter had been waiting for her at the shore. They would sit on a large piece of driftwood while she tried to interpret the brief flashes she saw, but the separator from her first attempt continued to deter her. When she got tired from the effort, he would take her on a tour of the island. So far, she'd seen the Pixie Woods, where she and Peter had climbed the stout trees, using the thick boughs to pull themselves up higher and higher. Then, at the top, she'd been taught to dip her fingers into the rosy petals. From their cores, she'd extract a pinch of glittering pixie dust. The dust would work its magic and she would fly high above the earth, the whole of the island sprawled out beneath her.

Peter had told her during one of these visits that those who wouldn't listen to her deserved their fates. He was the only one who believed her, so she wanted to prove that he had made the right choice; and she wanted to help him save Neverland. That was why, when she returned from these adventures, she would spend the day trying to separate the myriad visions from one another so that she may give her friend good news that night. It had only been a couple of days, but she thought she was improving.

"I told you she'd be here," someone said smugly.

Her concentration was broken by the obnoxious voice. She scowled at the interruption. She had chosen this spot because of the privacy it offered. The men were in the fields this time of day, and the women had avoided the place since the disappearance of Beth, her husband, and Cassie's own mother in its depths. She thought it ridiculous that they would fear a place so much when they insisted there were no monsters within. But it seemed that fear did not extend to their children, since four of them stood before her now.

"She's trying to see the _future_ with her dark magic," Gideon mocked.

"It's not dark magic," she said through gritted teeth.

"What do you see, witch-girl?" the boy named John taunted.

"She probably sees us beating the crap out of her," Jack snickered, inciting laughter from the others.

Cassie made to leave the glade, but she was shoved to the ground. They surrounded her and began to kick at her like they had so many times before. She didn't know why, but instead of curling into a ball like she always did in these exchanges, she grabbed one of the legs aimed for her and sank her teeth into it. The leg's owner screamed and tried to shake her off. The taste of dirt and sweat coating the fabric was sour on her tongue, but she held on. When she felt the violent tugs on her hair, she opened her mouth and lifted the leg with enough force to topple the boy. She stood up to see Arthur rolling around on the grass, cradling his leg and screaming.

She turned around and a nearly feral snarl ripped free from her throat. The others dropped her hair and backed away uneasily.

"Who's next?" she snapped.

"W-we're not afraid of you!" Gideon retorted.

"I'm a _witch_, remember?" She pointed a finger at the leader of the gang. "You wanted to know what I see in the future. I see you dying a horrible death." Her finger moved to each of the others in turn. "All of you will, if you don't leave me alone." She put as much anger and menace as she could muster into the threat, and was satisfied to see the fear that took over their faces. With one final glare aimed at them, she stomped away.

She returned to her house, where she quietly awaited the setting sun. She didn't try to invoke any more visions. Perhaps because her mother's presence was so strong at home, most of what she saw here concerned her, and that always brought an ache to her chest and tightness to her throat. It was why she preferred to practice in the glade; but she couldn't go back there today, not after what had happened earlier. The boys would probably attempt revenge if she left the house. It was best to stay put for now.

* * *

She had been visiting Neverland. Peter was just telling her about the mermaids that would sometimes appear just off the shores when a loud banging sound interrupted the conversation. He and the island faded before her as the noise continued. She tried to reach out to him, but he was gone.

She lifted her head from the table and stared at the door blearily. There was yelling outside, but she was having trouble deciphering the words. Stiffly, she got up from the chair and crossed the small room. Opening the door, a dozen angry faces crowded into her vision. Her thoughts were still muddled from sleep, but she soon caught on to what was happening.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" one person demanded.

So the brats had told the adults what had transpired that morning. "I'm sorry I didn't think of it earlier," she said, without a trace of remorse for her actions.

"So you admit your guilt?"

"Yes, yes. I bit the little monster. Not that any of you care, but _they_ attacked _me_ first."

"And you killed Arthur for revenge!"

"What are you talking about?" she asked. "Kill? Has someone died?"

"Don't play innocent—we know what you did! You killed a child with your dark power!"

"I didn't do anything. I was minding my own business, sleeping, before you rudely woke me up," she snapped. She moved to close the door, but a man shoved it back open, easily overpowering her.

"You're going to admit your guilt whether you like it or not!" One of the villagers grabbed her arm and began dragging her down the road.

"What are you doing—let me go!" she yelled, digging her heels in, to no avail.

Nobody heeded her protests, and she was continually pulled and yanked until they stopped in front of a house. She recognized it as the place where the boy she'd bitten lived. So they were going to make her apologize to him, was that it? Or punish her in front of him, which she found equally distasteful. It figured they would take his side, she thought bitterly.

When they entered the cabin, she spotted the boy's mother on the floor, her shoulders heaving with unrestrained sobs.

"Sally, we brought the witch."

The woman turned around. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks streaked with tears. There was accusation and loathing in her eyes as she glared at Cassie.

"My baby is dead because of you!" she screamed.

Following the point of her finger, Cassie saw the boy who lay on the floor. His face was frozen in horror. There were streaks of dried blood on his face, originating from his eyes, nostrils and mouth. His skin appeared almost translucent, as if it had been drained of color.

"You think _I _did this?"

"The other children told us what you said, how you threatened Arthur after they discovered you practicing dark magic."

"I wasn't practicing dark magic. And I only did that to scare him. I didn't actually do anything."

"We already know you attacked them after they found you—"

"_They_ attacked _me_—I was only defending myself! I bit him on the leg—that is _all_."

Someone pulled up the leg of Arthur's pants, revealing the red indents in his calf, reminiscent of bite marks.

"That proves nothing. You already admitted to being a witch. Who else could have done this?"

"Maybe the wolf did it," she retorted. This provoked an uproar.

"It was the work of a curse!"

"We should have never let her mother stay. Eight years and we've had nothing but bad luck!"

"Aye, coming into our village like that, with her eyes torn out and blood all over—anyone with sense could see it was an ill omen!"

"I want her punished for killing my baby," Arthur's mother hissed, cradling her dead child in her lap.

"She'll kill us all if we allow her to live!"

"Stone her!" someone cried.

"No! Burn her at the stake!" shouted another.

The clamor in the room rose in volume as everyone began shouting suggestions. The bloodlust was palpable. Frightened, Cassie tried to retreat, only to collide with a wall of bodies behind her. Someone shoved her back into the room. She looked around nervously, seeing only hatred burning in everyone's eyes and no way out.

Eventually, she was led back to her own house. One man was left as a guard outside her front door while the others took votes on the best method for killing a witch. She only wished that she truly were a witch, so that she could cast a spell or brew a potion—to do_ something_ to escape. Through the window, she could see the other children eagerly collecting stones and placing them in steadily growing piles in front of her house. A couple couldn't control their enthusiasm; they threw the stones at her window, and she had to duck in case they broke through. They were only shooed away when a boy with bad aim accidentally hit the guard.

Cassie retreated to the table, laid her head down on her arms and closed her eyes. She thought that perhaps if she could escape to Neverland, Peter would allow her to stay on the island with him, and she wouldn't have to return to live amongst these _ignorant fools_, as he called them. Not that she had long to live, anyway. But as hard as she willed sleep to come, it remained elusive.

There was the sound of something heavy dropping outside. Returning to the window, she peeked out cautiously, wary of any incoming projectiles, but there were none. The children must have gotten bored and moved on; she couldn't even see the guard. Moving to the door, she cracked it open. There, on the ground in front of the entrance lay the guard.

"Are you okay?" she whispered. "Hey."

Holding her breath, Cassie reached out a hand and tugged on the man's sleeve. His body rolled over, startling her. When he didn't move again, she took a closer look, and discovered that blood streamed from every orifice on his face. A rivulet of red ran down the side of his ear and into his beard. Her heart in her throat, Cassie quickly checked the surrounding area. Seeing no one, she slipped out of the house and took off toward the riverbank. She nearly tripped over something in her haste, but managed to just barely avoid it.

She scrambled and slid down the slope, then ran toward the water. She knew the shallowest parts of the river thanks to hours spent there. Diving in, she half-walked and half-swam to the opposite shore. A couple of times, she lost her footing and went under, but after a few breathless seconds, her head broke the surface again. Pulling herself onto the opposite bank, she coughed and spluttered the river water out of her lungs. Not daring to linger, she climbed the slope and ran into the foliage on that side.

This side of the river wasn't familiar territory for her, but she didn't care. She kept going. If she got far enough away, the others wouldn't be able to find her. Or they'd just give up and go home.

She stopped in her tracks and strained her ears. Past her heavy breathing, past the rush of blood in her ears, she thought she heard running footsteps. Quickly, she dove to the side and hid behind the trunk of a large tree. Clapping both hands across her mouth and nose, she tried to make as little noise as possible. Before long, she heard the footsteps getting closer, until they stopped right beside her hiding place.

Her first instinct was to take off in the opposite direction, sprint as fast as she could. But her muscles were frozen.

"We lost her," someone said. She recognized the voice. It was one of the boys who had taunted her that morning. They must have seen her run away from the house and followed. Were the adults right behind them? Had they decided how they would kill her?

"What do we do now?" Another one of her tormentors.

"We find her. You all saw what happened to Arthur. Do you want that to happen to you?" Gideon.

"No… But what if she curses us when we find her?"

"She won't be able to if you don't let her mark you. She has to mark you and then curse you with her eyes. That's why Arthur died. He was bit and then she _looked_ at him."

"That's right!" someone gasped. "That's why Arthur died. He was bit first, and then she looked at him!"

"Exactly. Right, then. We keep searching. She can't have gone far."

None of the things she'd overheard made any sense, but it didn't matter. She knew that if she stayed here, they would find her. Swallowing tightly, she tried to crawl away, using the brush as cover. She had barely made it five feet when her knee came down on something, and a loud _crack_ echoed throughout. She stood and bolted, but was tackled from behind.

A yell sounded directly beside her ear. "I've got her!"

She clawed and kicked at whoever had ahold of her. When the person emitted a groan of pain and rolled off of her, she tried to get up, but someone grabbed her by her hair and shoved her face into the ground. Somebody sat on her back while two others held down her arms. She struggled to throw them off, but it was useless. The ground was suffocating her; she turned her face to the side to get air, and glared at the boy who held down her right arm.

"She looked at me! She looked at me! I'm going to die!" he screamed.

"Shut up, John," Gideon ordered.

"Yeah, don't be an idiot. Gideon said she had to _bite_ you first, remember?" This voice came from her left.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Thanks, Jack."

"We know your power comes from your eyes, witch," Gideon said. "If we take them away, you can't hurt us. Then we'll take you back to the village so they can burn you."

"I brought my ma's silver spoon," John said.

"Good job."

"I have to take it back with me after, or she'll be really mad."

"Don't worry. She'll forget all about it when she finds out we saved the entire village from the witch."

"We need to turn her around. I can't get them like this."

Cassie began to panic. What were they going to do to her?

"I have other powers! Even without my eyes, I can still curse you!" She kept going, afraid to stop. "How do you think I escaped? Who do you think killed the guard? If you don't want to end up like your friend, leave right now and I won't kill you all with my magic!"

There was a long moment of silence following her declaration. She stayed perfectly still, willing them to believe her.

"She's lying," Gideon said.

"But what if she's not?" John asked doubtfully. "My ma told me there would be someone guarding her, so we'd be safe. He wouldn't have let her out..."

"If she had other powers, she would have used them already. She probably tricked him and cursed him after. But _we're_ not stupid. You have to turn her so I can get her eyes. Jack, you hold her head down so she can't bite me. John, you sit on her legs so she can't kick."

Cassie began struggling anew, using everything she had to kick and scratch and bite the three boys, but she was outnumbered. She had just managed to free a hand and claw Jack on the face, leaving four red streaks running down his cheek, when she caught sight of a fist-sized rock aimed for her face.

Pain blossomed behind her eyes, taking over her perception, until it was all she knew.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

AN: Vera, thank you for your lovely and encouraging words! Hopefully the remainder of the story isn't too disappointing.

**Chapter 6:**

She awoke to darkness. Moaning, she tried to open her eyes, but there was nothing—only darkness and blinding pain. It wasn't as if she had never been hurt before, but what she felt now was on an entirely different level from those times when she had returned home black and blue. She would have traded this pain for a hundred—a thousand—of those beatings.

She picked up sounds of movement nearby, soft noises in the background to the screaming in her head. At least, she thought it was only in her head.

"I see you've come to," someone said.

With an effort, Cassie tried to remember if the voice was one she recognized. She didn't think it was. She tried to speak, but the small movement sent bursts of pain through her, and all that came out was a garbled scream. So it _had_ just been in her mind before, because this new, ear-splitting sound could not have been mistaken for anything else. The seemingly endless shriek stabbed into her mind, bringing forth fresh bouts of pain.

"I wouldn't move too much, if I were you," the person warned belatedly.

It was a long time before the sound subsided, by which point Cassie's voice rasped and her throat ached from the prolonged strain. She didn't dare move after that, nor did she attempt to speak again. She clenched her jaw and ground her teeth to keep the vocalizations inside. Meanwhile, the other person kept talking, sometimes directing a comment at Cassie, sometimes muttering to herself. Cassie thought it was a woman. Old, perhaps, with a voice like rocks being crushed underfoot. The sound only added to her misery.

Without warning, something cool was applied to her face. There was a tingling sensation at every point of contact as it was spread over her skin. After a while, the pain had receded enough that she was able to locate its origin. Her hands burned fiercely; the feeling was reminiscent of the time she had cut herself while slicing fish, except much worse. Every twitch sent great shocks shooting up her arms. But it was nothing compared to the area behind her eyes, which screamed with pain so spectacular sometimes that she couldn't imagine anything else existed outside of those moments. When those instances occurred, the old woman would apply an ointment, and it would provide some relief.

Cassie was unsure of how much time had passed, but eventually she felt well enough to speak.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"In my home," the woman answered.

"Where is that?"

"On the other side of the river from where you live."

The river. Cassie remembered a river—jumping in, swimming through it… And then—The beating inside her skull became more insistent, warning her against following the trail of that particular memory.

"W-what happened to me?" There was a slight tremble to her voice. She hated hearing it, but her fear lent it strength. "The boys…"

"Boys? I didn't see no boys. Just you. I was collecting some herbs in the forest and there you were—just lying there, blood everywhere. I thought you might've been dead, but it seems I got there just in time. Brought you back here and fixed you up."

"W-what… What did they…?" A lump had formed in her throat; she couldn't speak past it.

"Well, when I found you, you had a nasty little bump on your head. I'm betting someone hit you with a rock." The woman seemed to chuckle at her own cleverness. "Ah, yes. Apparently someone had also taken your eyes out of that pretty little head of yours. Did a shoddy job, if you ask me."

Cassie couldn't breathe. And suddenly the pain seemed to have multiplied. Her hands flew up to check her face, forgetting about the woman's earlier warning. A scream pierced the air. It took her a while to realize it came from her. The contact had caused an explosion of agony inside her skull. She clutched her head in her hands, gritting her teeth against the overwhelming sensation, and she remained that way.

She vaguely recalled feeling the ointment's effects once more. It was when she could feel other sensations again that she realized her hands felt heavy and awkward, and remembered that there was pain there as well. The beating in her skull started up again when she tried to recall that night's events, f but she fought to remember if the boys had mentioned anything about cutting up her hands, but nothing came to mind. When she tried to feel how extensive the damage was, she found herself unable to move her fingers; everything felt heavily wrapped in cloth. If she concentrated, she thought she detected the same thing on the upper half of her face, where her eyes were—had been. Not anymore.

Suddenly, all she wanted was to curl in on herself and sleep. It wasn't difficult to let go, to drift off…

"What's your name, girl?" the woman asked. Her voice tugged on Cassie's consciousness, delaying her departure.

"Cassie," she managed to get out.

"Is that short for something?"

"Cassandra," she said, reluctantly. She might not have said anything, except for how everything had begun fading to a dull throb. It was such a relief, and she wanted to give in to it entirely.

"Yes, I thought that might be it," the woman cackled.

Her mind tried to decipher the statement's meaning, but exhaustion was pulling at her limbs. She didn't fight it.

* * *

The wind was at her back, just as it always was. There was its cool touch gliding across her skin, its whistle in her ear as it passed. These were all familiar sensations, and though she couldn't see it, she knew the moon shone overhead, and the stars twinkled all across the sky. She knew where this journey led.

She landed on the beach, where she always landed—but then she stumbled in the sand, something that had never happened on her previous visits. She reached out her hands to catch herself, but the shocks of pain that shot up her arms caused them to give out. In the next moment, she found herself spitting out sand and trying to wipe the lingering grains from her tongue.

"What happened to you? You look awful." It was the only other person on the island. She ran toward the sound of his voice, reaching for him blindly.

"It was Gideon and the others. I can't see—"

"What do you mean, you can't see?" She could tell he was right in front of her now. Her bandaged hands grabbed awkwardly at his arms.

"Peter, they took out my eyes—"

"So you can't get visions anymore?"

"I-I don't know. I can't see anything at all."

"Well, then." The response was clipped, and there was something about his tone that she couldn't quite identify.

"Peter?"

"You should go now. Don't worry, you'll be returned to your land safe and sound."

"What—returned? But I've only just arrived. It isn't even morning yet." Was it? No. It couldn't be. She always arrived when the moon was high in the sky, and that usually afforded her several hours before she needed to leave.

He slipped from her grasp somehow, as she suddenly found her arms falling to her sides.

"I didn't want to tell you this, but… a person can only come to Neverland a limited number of times. It's the island, you see. It needs to replenish its magic by constantly bringing in new children who believe. That's why no one can ever stay for very long, and why all the friends I make must eventually leave me. All magic has a price, and this is the price for mine."

"But… you never said…"

"You were so unhappy when you first arrived, I couldn't bring myself to tell you. Perhaps if you had been able to… But now you must leave."

She felt the back of her dress being yanked upward, and her feet lifting off the ground. She tried to find him in the darkness, but her fingers only caught at emptiness.

"I don't want to leave! Please don't make me leave!"

It wasn't the gentle flight of previous visits. She fought against whatever had her, ignoring how the collar of her dress choked her, concerned only with kicking and punching her captor so it would drop her. She didn't care if she fell, as long as she fell to Neverland. But the wind was soon buffeting her from every side while some unknown force pulled at her back.

* * *

She awoke to darkness again. She wasn't certain how many times it had been now, or how much time had passed since the last. She turned on her side and curled into a ball as her last exchange with Peter came back to her. She would never be able to go back to Neverland. She sniffled against her sleeve. It had been the only place she'd ever felt as if she belonged, and now it was lost to her forever. She was trapped in this world.

"You're awake." Shuffling steps approached her. "How's about some soup?"

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled. There was no point. Eating couldn't get her back there.

A moment later, she was pulled into a sitting position and her palms were turned upward. Then something with a curved bottom was placed in them—a bowl. Steam warmed her face, and a strong scent washed over her. She didn't move, leaving the bowl disinterestedly in her lap.

"Being stubborn won't make it disappear any faster," the woman commented.

Cassie frowned, wishing nothing more than to be left alone. Perhaps if she did this, the woman would go away. She brought the bowl slowly to her lips and took a sip of the contents, then coughed as the liquid burned a path down her throat.

"What _is _that?" she spluttered, grimacing at the lingering taste on her tongue.

"Soup. It'll help with the pain."

Cassie scrunched up her nose and took another tentative sip of the brew, but the second mouthful was no less revolting than the first. It was then that she noticed a strong smell permeated the air. Like the soup, it had the bitter scent of herbs, but stronger than any kind she knew. She wondered how she had only just noticed it. She held the bowl with one hand and felt around her with the other, acquainting herself with her immediate surroundings. There was something spread across her legs, thin, rough—a blanket, most likely. Beneath her was something softer than wood, smoother than dirt—a pallet. Beyond where she sat, she found a flat surface, most likely the floor, and she placed the bowl there.

"On second thought, I think I prefer the pain. I've gotten quite used to it."

"You've got a bit of an attitude, I see. Well, suit yourself. It was just to brace you for this next part."

Cassie was startled as one of her hands was roughly yanked out. She could feel sharp nails digging into the skin at her wrist, and soft strips of cloth slipping across her palm.

"Stop fidgeting!" the woman commanded. "I have to check the results of the procedure."

"What procedure?" Perhaps the more pressing question was, "Who are you?"

"I'm glad you asked. I am one learned in the Arts. You can call me Myrtle."

"The Arts… You mean the _Dark_ Arts? You're a witch?" she asked with incredulity.

"Dark!" the woman spat. "Those people are just jealous! Is it my fault I have powers they do not?"

"My friend told me only ignorant fools call magic evil…"

"Your friend has the right idea." The witch laughed. "He wasn't one of them that did this to you, was he?"

Cassie defended Peter vehemently, "Of course not! He would never do anything that horrible!"

"Whatever you say, dear," the witch said dismissively. "Now, where was I? Ah yes… With magic, Ican do things those other fools could only dream about. Lucky it was me that found you, and the actual eyes weren't too badly damaged. It'd be such a shame to lose those pretty blue eyes of yours."

"Can you heal me?" If she could get her sight back, she could see the way to revive Neverland. Perhaps then, she would be allowed to stay in the other world.

"Afraid not. Healing is high level magic. Not just anyone can perform it. I can't replace them in that head of yours, but I fixed you up real nice. Good as new."

The last of the cloth fell away, and something changed. Her world ceased to be an endless darkness. Different hues slowly seeped into her awareness, giving form to her surroundings, and figures began dancing around the edges of her vision. She could see again. Everything was a little hazy, but even that was better than having only her own screams for company inside her head. She reached for the gray-haired old woman before her, but the witch dissolved beneath her touch. The significance of that struck her immediately.

"It worked! The procedure worked!" the witch exulted, running her fingers over Cassie's palms, their tips scraping over the skin.

"These aren't real. They're visions…" Cassie whispered.

"You, my dear, have what is known as the Sight. Such a rare gift," the witch crooned. "Many people covet the abilities of a seer, you know—to receive premonitions, to know what has yet to pass. That kind of power is more difficult to come by than you know—it is one not even the Dark One possesses."

Cassie wrenched her hands back and clutched them to her chest, ignoring the scratches in her palms caused by the action. "I don't want to see the future when I can't even see what's right in front of me!"

"You see the only thing that's important! You silly child, don't you understand what this means? You could have anything you ever wanted—wealth and power. It could all be yours if you give yourself over to this power entirely."

Wealth and power? And here she'd thought being stoned or burned to death was a form of punishment, because those were the only things ever offered to her for this ability. No, this wasn't a gift. It was a curse. That was the only thing it could be. What else could explain why she retained these visions when everything else had been taken from her? She had lost _everything_. The only things left to her were these images of things and people that weren't even real.

"I didn't spend all that time and effort in the graveyard, and slaving over needle and thread so you could waste this ability."

"Graveyard… What does that have to do with me?"

"It doesn't matter! The point is, I could count on one hand the number of seers I've encountered in all my years. They were all stupid fools who couldn't understand what they had at their disposal. But you will be different. You will learn to master the power in the… _palm_ of your hand, and become the greatest seer the realm has ever known!"

Cassie balled her hands into fists and set her mouth into a hard line. She didn't care what the old woman said, didn't care that she could do nothing to impede the flow of images. The hag could kick her out if she wanted, Cassie didn't care about that either; she could survive on her own. But she would not do this anymore.


End file.
