The third road narrows between dead cottonwoods and ends at an abandoned schoolhouse. Hollis Vale arrives clutching his slate and schoolbook, while the Pinkerton rookie follows with one hand near his revolver.
The schoolhouse door hangs open. Hollis’s shadow remains stretched across the threshold, thin and dark as spilled ink, though his boots stand several paces away.
Hollis Vale
Do not let me cross. It takes strength each time, and the children have been reciting your name, badge-bearer.
From inside, faint young voices rise and fall through a lesson’s rhythm. Between the syllables, they speak the rookie’s name, each repetition making the windows tremble.
Pinkerton rookie
I hear it. Hollis, stay behind me. Ma’am, keep watch on the road and tell me if that shadow moves.
Hollis reaches toward the doorway. His knees buckle, the slate slips against his coat, and his face pales as the shadow pulls taut across the boards.
Hollis Vale
The threshold remembers me. If I cross, it will spend what remains.
“Eva will keep watch as informed, ready to warn the others if something happens.”
SUCCESS (Good Perception, rolled +3)
Eva turns from the schoolhouse and watches the road, silver eyes tracking the cottonwoods, the open doorway, and every shifting edge of shadow.
Eva Mistfallen
The voices pause whenever the wind changes.
Her vigilance catches what the others miss: a second shadow slides beneath the schoolhouse windows, moving against the evening light and carrying a child-sized satchel.
Eva Mistfallen
Warning. Something is moving along the schoolhouse wall, and it is not one of you.
The warning reaches Hollis before the shadow can cross the doorway. He grips his slate, while the rookie pivots without stepping onto the threshold.
Pinkerton rookie
I see it now. Hollis, keep your shadow still. Ma'am, you found our watcher before it found us.
The child-sized shadow halts beneath a broken window. Its satchel drops open, revealing a brass school bell and a folded attendance ledger marked with the rookie’s name.