Sadie Madison and the Boy in the Crimson Scarf

5 | The Boy In The Crimson Scarf

Sadie had been excited about Christmas since the first snowflakes had fallen on Iron Bridge. She and Danver had planned to fill their days with adventure and enjoy their time away from Cale Boswick and his worshippers.

But everything had changed.

Danver had gone.

And this boy had arrived.

Sadie watched as he approached the window and placed a tentative, pale grey hand on the frame. A gentle wind blew through the small opening at the top, rustling his hair, the white strands sparkling like silver.

He pulled the crimson scarf up to cover his mouth and gazed down at the Shadow Valley, tracing the stars with his wide eyes and long fingers.

"Are you okay?" Sadie asked.

"Of course," he replied, jerking slightly at the sudden sound of her voice.

She joined him by the window. "I do not know where you came from, but I'm glad you're here."

"I came from you."

"Yes, you said. But—"

"You needed me. I am here."

Sadie cradled her face. "Will you still be here in the morning?"

Sitting on the window seat, the boy nodded.

"Then you're going to need a name."

"Of course."

"I take it you do not have one already."

"I do not believe so."

She considered the strange-looking boy for a moment. What was he: a ghost, a hallucination, an imaginary friend? And what sort of name could she give a person like that? Sadie had no idea. Instead, she turned to her large bookcase. Closing her eyes, she spun her arm in circles and jabbed her index finger randomly against the spine of a book.

"Complex Inherited Wisdoms of the Dragon Riders—" she read, "—by Domingo Oliviera." She looked at the boy, her eyes thinning. "How about Domingo?"

"If you like," he replied.

"Dom?"

"Sure."

"Not a chance," she told him. "But Oliviera's not right either."

He shrugged. "How about Oliver, then?"

Sadie smiled. "Hello, Oliver. I'm Sadie."

"Hello, Sadie," he replied, shaking her outstretched hand.

"This isn't a dream, is it?"

"I do not believe so."

"Good."

Sadie sat beside him. "So," she began, looking out the window, "this is Iron Bridge."

She described her hometown to Oliver: the coiling residential streets of Leviathan Crook, Hydra Drive, and Kraken Walk; the caves and foothills beside the River Myr; the Commercial and Industrial Districts beyond; the Glade of Remembrance in the south, the sandstone quarry and the Palace of Light in the North.

Before long the sun began to rise.

The boy seemed fascinated by it.

"The world is an amazing place, Oliver. You simply won't believe it."

Oliver took her hands. His touch tender, yet cold as ice.

"What shall we do first?" she asked him eagerly.