Joe slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the left. The vehicle spun out of control. Then came the metallic crunch of vehicles colliding. Chris felt Joe's stumbling motion just before the crash, so he knew his brother was not lying maimed in the wreckage.

Moments later, they were falling and hit the ground in a tangle of legs, arms, heads, and bodies, their landing cushioned by the layers of the snowsuit. As quickly as possible, he helped Cassie and the children, now awake and amazingly calm, find their way out of the pocket. Joe had Modified and was getting the last of his fairy clothes on when they met up with him in the street.

They all scurried beneath a car on the side of the road and huddled behind an enormous front tire. Four black boots and flashlight beams passed over the shattered glass from the collision, not more than a few human-sized paces away.

Joe's stolen clothes lay in a mountainous heap not far from the car they were hiding beneath.

Their location wasn't what Chris would consider secure. With hand gestures, Chris and Joe began the debate of when to run. Cassie, however, didn't wait for the outcome. She was already en route to the opposite wheel, and slipped between it and the curb.

Chris and Joe froze as they watched her dart into the open from there. They turned toward the boots, which no doubt belonged to a couple of Gray Coats, and followed the beams of light with their eyes. All motion remained slow and thorough, their search focused in another direction. 

When Cassie made it underneath the next car, she signaled for them to follow. They took her route, two at a time—Chris and Morgan, then Joe and Ryan—and made it there without attracting any attention.

The next car was farther away. They had to be much more careful. But, at a glance back, Chris discovered what the Gray Coats had just discovered—the snowsuit Joe was wearing. So everyone had to move, no hesitation.

They made it to the next car, the last one before an intersection. They hugged the curb, crouched low, and rounded the corner. Then they ran as far and fast as their little lungs and limbs would allow.

Soon the brutal wind had them staggering. They paused underneath another car to catch their breaths and weigh their options.

"We can't go on like this for much longer." Joe blew a few labored breaths over his bare hands. "At our size, we'll die of hypothermia that much faster."

"Why don't we pick a house and try to secure a car," Chris suggested. "How about this one?" He jutted a thumb toward the house on their right. "It looks like there's a television on."

"Shouldn't we pick a house without lights on?" Joe asked.

"People who aren't home don't usually leave their keys lying around."

"I meant a house where people are sleeping. Not absent," Joe retorted in his I'm-not-an-idiot tone.

Cassie pointed to the beam of light sweeping over the ground nearby. "We have to make a decision."

Chris, with Morgan in his arms, peeked out from underneath the car. He darted across the sidewalk and ran up the shoveled walkway of the bungalow. The front steps looked too tall, the stairs too steep, so he took a right turn behind a snowbank.

They all met up again beside a garbage barrel. After rounding the house, the driveway took them by a basement window.

Chris paused when he dragged his hand across a familiar sort of fabric. "Hold on—that's duct tape! I think we can get in here."

He tried to peel the tape off the window, where it was sealing a crack in the glass. Joe and Cassie joined his efforts. Still, their tiny frozen fingers could not rip the weathered material.

"Do we still have a knife or a sword handy?" Chris asked.

"We have the sword I was using. I put it back in Cassie's bag." Joe turned to grab it from her. 

She already had the sword in her hand with the hilt propped in Chris's direction.

"Thanks." Chris took it from her and stabbed through the tape. Warm air seeped through the crack. He warmed his fingers, but that was all he could do without breaking additional glass.

He tapped the glass with the hilt of the sword and tried to muffle the shattering sound with his other hand. Since he couldn't eliminate the sound, he worked quickly and stopped once he chipped a triangular hole down to the window frame.

Chris eased Cassie inside first by her wrists. She found her footing on the windowsill, walked around for a moment, and beckoned them inside with a hand gesture. Then, as light reflected off a window nearby, Chris climbed in and put his arms out for the children.

Joe hurried them inside. "Move, move, move!" he hissed as a direct beam hit the driveway.

Chris herded everyone away from the hole. As soon as Joe was inside, Chris pulled the loose tape back into position as best he could. He held still, not daring to breathe.

The window lit up and then gradually darkened. Chris exhaled and let go of the tape.

They were out of sight and temporarily warm and safe. Although their circumstances had improved, it wasn't by much. The darkness was almost too dense to navigate, and they were stuck on a narrow ledge with no way down. Phasing back to his human self would increase the risk of discovery but taking on the human world at fairy size would be hazardous and time-consuming. Certain challenges in both cases would be nearly impossible to complete, so they would have to find a balance.

"Wings would come in handy right about now," Joe whispered, and that gave Chris an idea.

"Cassie, do you have any rope?"

He heard her rummaging through her knapsack. "Here." She handed him the bundle.

"Ryan, buddy, can you do us a special job?" Chris asked.

He could vaguely see Ryan's nod.

Chris squatted beside him and placed the rope in Ryan's hands. "Can you fly up and find something on the ceiling to wrap this around?"

Morgan tugged on Chris's sleeve. "Can I help, Daddy? Please?"

"All right. I'll hold on to one end of the rope, and you help your brother carry the other end. I know it's dark, so use your hands to find something strong, like a pipe or a wire. Then bring your end back to me. You can see a little light coming in from the window, right?"

The children looked to the window behind them and didn't comment, and Chris took that to mean they agreed and understood. With the rope in each of their hands, Morgan and Ryan then fluttered off the sill.

"Work together," Chris suggested in a loud whisper.

After some rattling, the busy buzz of their wings, and a great deal of time when every second seemed to doom them further, the twins made their return, each handing him the end of their strands.

"Good job, you two!"

Chris tugged them to test the stability. He slid the rope back and forth, left and right, and in all cases, it seemed as if it would stay put and support his weight.

He evened out the ends, made a knot, and handed Joe one half of the loop. Once Joe braced himself, Chris jumped on the other one.

Joe lowered him to the floor, and they kept the rope circling until the three wingless adults were all safely on the ground.

Chris cycled the rope back around and untied the knot, and while doing so, another idea came to him. At his new position and angle, a sliver of light hit his eyes. He figured it was coming from underneath the basement door.

"Ryan and Morgan, where are you?" Chris asked.

"Right here, Dad," Morgan answered, only an arm's reach away.

Chris set one hand on her head and fumbled to find Ryan's as well. "Do you see that light above our heads? It's probably a door!" he said brightly. "Can you do us another big favor? Fly up and wrap the rope around the doorknob?"

The twins flew off together once again. The noisy doorknob rattled Chris's nerves, almost beyond repair, but the task was soon complete, and they returned to his side.

With the children hovering beside them, Chris, Cassie, and Joe climbed, pulled, or lifted each other up the stairs. When they reached the top step, Chris sent the twins back up to release the rope. After another round of clattering and clacking, they came down empty-handed.

"It's stuck," Morgan explained.

"Cut it off, Chris. We can make do with what we have left," Joe said.

Chris nodded and sawed through the rope with the sword, and while he bundled what remained of it into a circle with his hand and elbow, Cassie was crouching down, trying to fit underneath the door. If she couldn't get through, they were all likely stuck there. They might not be able to postpone transformation much longer.

Cassie kept trying in various locations, and finally, where the door met the doorframe, an L-shaped gap allowed her to slip through.

Everyone else came over to the spot where she had disappeared. Chris examined the size of the hole and shook his head. "You try first," he suggested to Joe.

He made it to the other side without much of an issue. Chris sent the twins through next. Then he held his breath and had to play with his angle of entry a few times, but he eventually squeezed through as well.

Now in a cluttered galley kitchen, they had one dim, flickering stretch of under-cabinet lighting to make their next task possible. While Joe, Cassie, and the twins were exploring the area from the ground and air, Chris followed the house's only other source of light—a television blaring the late evening news in French.

Chris came across a man, probably in his late fifties, sleeping in a tattered recliner. He looked like a miner or a logger, weatherworn and aging gracelessly from a hard life. Chris also surmised from a shrine-like photo display on a nearby shelf that the man's wife was no longer among the living.

It compelled Chris to consider his own fate for a moment. When this adventure reached its conclusion, would he be able to resume something that resembled his old life? In thirty or forty years, would he be alone on a couch somewhere counting down the days until he would see his enshrined wife again? Or was the human world forever gone to him? And if so, what would take its place? Perpetual struggle in a tumultuous new fantasy world?

The man suddenly coughed and mumbled something. Although his snoring pattern recommenced, the interruption was enough to jar Chris back to the present.

There was a third contingency—dead—and everyone in his company—dead—and if didn't turn this between-worlds challenge into a triumph, it was a sure thing.

He may have jogged off, but he found it in himself to run back.

When he returned to Joe and Cassie, they were staring up at a kitchen island. The kids were presumably on top, busy with an errand that wings would facilitate.

"Where've you been?" Joe asked.

"The guy's asleep. I was just making sure. How are things going in here?"

"The kids found the keys and the wallet, but they can't lift them," Joe reported. "We probably don't want anything crashing to the ground anyway. So. . ."

Joe bobbed his head sideways to signify he was leaving to take care of it. He walked around the island, disappearing from view. The naked upper half of his body then reappeared, above the island.

He was getting good at Modifying; it took no more than a few seconds. In his human form, Joe began lowering items to the floor—a wad of money, keys, a miniature flashlight. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was out of sight, small again. Chris envied his brother's ease with this newfound power.

Once Joe had his fairy clothes back on, he and Chris hefted the keys off the ground. They returned to help Cassie with the flashlight. And the twins each carried a side of the folded Canadian money down the hall. They brought all items to a utility room at the back of the house.

With a running start, Chris nudged the utility room door toward closed, but he did so with too much force. To prevent the door from slamming shut, he had to grab it with both hands. It stopped just shy of pinching his miniature fingers. The man at the other end of the house didn't seem like a light sleeper, but Chris wasn't going to take any chances.

The room had a faint glow from two windows, but the clear night sky wasn't enough to guide them. He had to turn on the flashlight. And it seemed worth the risk. They were in the right place. There were clothes in laundry baskets, shoes and boots lining the wall, and the door held one of the windows. It would lead them outside.

Joe had already Modified again and was dressing himself in the available clothing. Chris decided it might be best to join him. He sat down behind a laundry basket, lowered his head between his knees, covered out all light with his arms, and tried to rid his mind of all excess. It took a few attempts; he opened his eyes to see the basket looming above him several times before he managed to direct his thoughts toward the change and the change alone.

At last, he found himself at human size.

Chris dressed in layers of the old man's sturdy, warm clothing, and put on some work boots. The pants were too short, and his toes were a little crunched, but it would have to do.

He joined Joe by the back door just as Joe was adding Cassie and the twins to the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. They both nodded with readiness and Chris clicked off the flashlight.

Chris slowly rotated the door's bolt counterclockwise. He eased the door open just enough to slip through. Joe followed him out, close behind.

The garage was about ten paces beyond the stoop. They would have to expose themselves to the street.

Chris craned his neck around the corner of the house. The driveway was dark. Just beyond, there were lights animating the street in cycles, but they seemed distant and routine. So Chris stepped down, moved to the side, and sent Joe to the garage with a hand-signal.

Joe knelt down and tried the handle of the garage door. It was locked. Joe fanned out the keys in the wad and began selecting ones to try while Chris kept glancing at the street over his shoulder.

Chris had never seen so many keys on the same ring before. When Joe finally identified the right one, the handle pulled up with a squeak and the overhead door rolled with a sound like thunder. Chris cringed and crouched down to help his brother lift it with the right momentum so that they could minimize the noise and its duration.

With one last look over his shoulder, Chris followed Joe into the garage.

Joe opened the driver's side door of a well-used Chevrolet Silverado, and Chris accepted the passenger seat. Joe had proven his worth for the night with his skillfully aggressive driving.

"Wait a second," Chris said as Joe was about to start the engine.

Chris had the flashlight on again and began rummaging through the glove compartment with fingers that were already stiff from the cold.

"Shouldn't we go?" Joe's breath immediately fogged up, even in the garage and inside the truck.

"Here's a map. Let's figure out where we're going as long as we're still alone." Chris glanced in his sideview mirror.

While Joe watched the rearview mirror, Chris opened the map. He found the right quadrant, he thought, but the map was in French.

Joe lifted Cassie out of his pocket. "What towns are we near, my dear?"

"There are no towns. I believe you just have to follow Route 167 south toward Lac Saint-Jean, where you pick up Route 169 toward Quebec."

"Lac Saint-Jean? That's a lake, right? I think I saw a sign for that earlier," Joe said.

Chris shook his head and continued to scrutinize the map. Where is Chibougamau or Route 167? "Would you put money on that? We won't have a lot of time to spare."

"If we make a right out of here, and then a right at the next street, we'll avoid the street where we had the accident and can circle back a ways."

"I'd like to be able to confirm that." But then Chris sighed and refolded the map, too cold and frustrated to argue. "All right. Let's go. Drive fast, but try not to stand out, unless we're being chased."

"I'm all over it. Buckle up." Joe started the ignition and backed down the driveway. Once he rolled onto the street, he put the truck into drive with a jolt and sped off.

Chris turned around for a better look and Joe glanced in his mirror. Emergency vehicles had arrived at the scene of the accident, but there were no Gray Coats in sight. The Range Rovers were crushed beyond a capacity to function and no additional ones were idling in the area.

Joe made the turns he suggested and followed a sign to Route 167.

And they fled from Chibougamau uninterrupted.