He pulled back the worn, dirty blue canvas of his sister's dwelling and 
peeked inside timidly.  "Sapphire?"  He knew she treasured her privacy and 
hated to bother her, but this was just too important to him to stay silent 
any longer.

"It's okay, Lynx.  You can come in."  The voice was much older than his, 
soft and reassuring.  He smiled as he walked to his sister's pile of rags 
that passed as a bed and sat, cross-legged, at her feet.

Sapphire was the only family he had ever known since he was four years old.
His parents were only vague memories and taunting images.  His mother's 
side of the family denied their existence.  His father's side was almost 
completely deceased, save for one aunt who kept in touch with them when she
could.  Sapphire, nearly seven years his senior, had been his mother for as
long as he could remember.  She had kept him fed, clothed, and warm.  
Sapphire was his entire world.  Or, at least, she *had* been up until he 
began to fight for his own independence.  She was still dearly important to
him, but he was trying to make his own way in the world.

Trying.  She was making it difficult.

He let her pet him on the head a bit, knowing that it was more of a comfort
to her than a gesture of love towards him.  "Sapphire," he began, "I need 
to ask you something."

She smiled down at him, not condescendingly, but the same way she smiled at
him when he was a child and had asked for something outrageous, like for 
the stars in a bag for Summer's Faire.  He wanted to cringe at the 
expression but forced himself not to.  She was very attached to him, he 
reminded himself, and she wasn't going to take this very well.  "Go on, 
then," she answered him.

"Well I'm turning thirteen soon, you know that?"

"Don't be silly.  Of course I knew that," she chided him gently.

"I know what I'd like as a gift."

She gazed at him warily.  "You know what our money situation is right now,"
she said seriously, blue eyes tense and scolding.  "We have to save in case
we have to move again.  And besides, I already had something in mind."

She looked a bit hurt and Lynx stifled the guilty feelings rising in him.  
"I know," he answered hastily, "and you know that I appreciate all that you
do for me."  He was fighting to reign in his temper.  "But this is really, 
really important to me."

She shrugged.  "All right.  What is it?"

He swallowed the nervous feelings gathering in his throat and regretted it 
instantly when his stomach protested.  "I, um ... I'd like to go back to 
Calais."

She sighed, exasperated now.  "Lynx, I don't have the kind of money for the
two of us to-"

"No, Sapphire.  Just me.  I want to go back by myself."

He waited for it.

She exploded, just as he'd anticipated.  "No.  Not on your life.  It's too 
dangerous for a boy your age to be traveling so far without a companion.  
Not to mention those men who are after us, and the others looking for 
information about my son, and-"

"I'm not a boy!" he shot back angrily, losing his temper and interrupting 
her inconceivably long list of reasons why he couldn't go.  "And you're not
my mother!" he added as an afterthought.

Dead silence.

After a few moments, she spoke.  "Get out."

Oh, the guilt.  "Saph ... Sis, I'm really sorry.  I didn't mean to-"

"Get out."  No anger.  No rage.  Just a quiet order.

Biting his tongue to prevent him from speaking further, he gathered himself
and exited.

***

He would have been content to brood in a corner of an alley for the 
remainder of the evening.  he would have even been content to stay the 
night there, to sort out his thoughts.  However, the girl he was courting 
was a bit of a busybody and had enlisted the help of his best friend to 
track him down and drag him back to the camp.

He glared at the two of them from under dark brown, nearly black bangs that
had grown too long.  "What?" he asked tonelessly.

Zephyr knelt beside him but didn't touch him.  He was grateful for that; he
didn't much feel like having any human contact at the moment.  "You have 
two choices right now," she told him, sounding much more practical than 
he'd ever heard.  She was silly and a bit daft, which somehow made her more
endearing to him.  "You can either come back to camp with us, or you can 
find your sister and apologize for whatever it is that you did."

He scowled.  "I didn't do anything," he insisted.

"You did something," Carlisle retorted.  "About an hour after you left, 
Sapphire went storming out of the camp muttering about you.  She's really 
upset.  What the hell did you do, anyway?"

Lynx gritted his teeth, but what he really wanted to do was punch his 
friend in the face.  "You're lucky," he grumbled.  "You don't have some 
fool-headed woman telling you what to do all the time."

Carlisle glared at him.  "That's because my mother is dead."

"So is mine," Lynx shot back, "but Sapphire sure enjoys filling the role." 
He sighed.  "I can't get out from under her control.  No matter what I do, 
she's either showing me how to do it better or telling me to quit it 
altogether.  I love her so much.  I do," he insisted defensively, seeing 
the doubtful look on his companions' faces.  "I just want to be *me*.  
Don't you two ever feel like that?"  Carlisle's gaze dropped to the ground 
and Zephyr began playing with the scarf she used as a belt.  Lynx sniffed. 
"I thought so."

"You should still go talk to her," Zephyr replied.  "You really upset her."

For once he didn't respond to her mindless comment with a verbal jab and 
simply nodded in defeat.  "I will.  Eventually."

"Now," Carlisle ordered.

Lynx rolled his eyes and shuffled to his feet obediently, giving his best 
friend a good-natured punch to the shoulder before heading for his sister's
thinking place.

***

Calais was made up of vague memories for him, much like his parents were.  
He would catch a brief smell of salt in the air that didn't really exist.  
He would hear the quiet rushing of the water when he was walking through 
the town.  Bright, vibrant colors would pass by his field of vision when he
was staring at a group of drab villagers.  Memories from his second time in
Calais were little better, as most of his time then had been spent at his 
sister's beside, praying she would not die and leave him behind.  Calais 
didn't have many pleasant memories for him.

For some strange reason, Sapphire still pined for it.  She would never 
return there, he was sure of that, but she was a water-baby through and 
through; despite all the horrible events that had occurred there, she still
loved her birthplace and not a day went by that she didn't miss it.

Lynx knew exactly where he would find her.  Outside the city limits, just 
beyond the view of the camp, lay a grassy field.  The Seine cut a neat line
through it and Sapphire often went there to collect her throughts.  It was 
her sacred place, her own little sanctuary, and Lynx knew he would not 
exactly be welcome there.  Still, he had to make amends with her.  It was a
need in him that had grown as he made his way through Paris and outside the
city gates.

Stopping at the top of a little hill that blocked the area from view of the
city, he looked at her.  Worn white shawl around her too-thin shoulders, 
blue skirts spilled around her, long brown hair flowing with the currents 
of the wind.  She was not beautiful by anyone's standards; her half-bred 
heritage had not been kind to her.  He, at least, looked like his father, 
tall with darkened skin and nearly black hair.  She fit into no category; 
the Romani often shunned her for looking like the gadje, and the Parisians 
avoided her blatantly Romani eyes and dress.  She had too much of her 
mother in her.  But Sapphire was his sister, his guardian, and he loved her
so dearly that he saw beauty when none was apparent.

He approached her, not bothering to hide his footsteps in the grass.  She 
didn't turn to face him, but he knew she was aware of his presence.  He 
knelt behind her, not quite ready to meet her gaze.  "Saph?"  A pet name, 
one he had used since he was a child and unable to pronounce her full name.

"Hmm?"  Verbal static, revealing no emotion.

He hesitated, wondering why he had come to see her and what he had wanted 
to say.  He finally settled on a simple, "I love you."

Her head moved slightly, then she turned around completely to face him.  
Her eyes were red at the corners and her face was paler than usual.  It 
pained him to see her, especially when he knew what the cause had been.  
"You're a pain in the ass," she told him matter-of-factly.

"I know," he grinned at her boyishly, trying to make her smile.

"And you're giving in to me too easily," she grumbled.

"I know."  More grinning and attempts to look innocent.

Finally, finally she cracked a small smile.  She swatted at him playfully 
and he allowed her to beat up on him a bit, chuckling good-naturedly.

After she was done with her play, she sat back again, looking him over as 
though she had never seen him before.  "When did you start growing up, 
Squirt?  I wasn't paying attention."

"I know.  You were too busy worrying about me."

She quirked an eyebrow but didn't argue.  "You're still young," she 
clarified.  "You're not an adult yet.  Even you need to admit to that."

He began to protest but backed down when he saw the look in her eyes.  I 
guess you're right," he muttered.

She sighed deeply.  "But you do need your own space.  I know that.  I 
should have understood that when you insisted on living on your own."  She 
was playing with the fringe on the corner of her shawl nervously.  "I don't
like this Calais business.  I really don't.  There are terrible, terrible 
people in Calais and for all I know, they could be targeting you.  I don't 
like putting my family in danger when there's so little of it left."

He nodded, trying to see where she was going with all this.

She took a deep breath.  "You're the same age I was when I started 
traveling.  Actually, you've got almost two years on me.  Sometimes, you 
need to learn things the hard way.  I sure as hell did.  So," she finished,
"you may go to Calais."

He blinked several times, not sure he had heard her correctly.  "I can?"

"I have just enough saved for you to go by yourself.  You've got your own 
horse.  You're smart.  You look like one of the Romani.  You can do it by 
yourself and you probably should."

He thought his face would crack, he was grinning so hard.  He grabbed his 
sister around the shoulders and pulled her into a bear-hug.  Despite her 
seven years' seniority, she was a tiny woman and her valiant struggling was
useless against his height and strength.  Finally she gave up and let him 
squeeze the air out of her as he pleased.

"Oh gods, Spah, you have no idea how happy this makes me!  I can see Etana 
and the ocean and the old kumpania and-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it.  You're thrilled.  Now put me down before I hurt 
you."

He let her go and kept on grinning.  She just shook her head.  "Boys," she 
muttered, as though that explained everything.