The Editor had specifically instructed the Snow Queen to put Will by himself, which was why it was so surprising when she tossed him in an occupied room and locked the door. He rubbed the icy spot on his arm where she had gripped it with her freezing hand as he looked at his fellow captive. He quickly forgot his cold arm when he focused on the pale blue eyes of Ewan Andric—better known to Will as Morpheus. "Morpheus?"

"Not anymore," was the tired response. "Thanks in part to you, I think. Please just call me Ewan, Will."

"Right. Sorry," Will apologized, remembering that it wasn't just in part to Will that Ewan was no longer Morpheus. He had written Rachel in as Morpheus. "But I thought you were dead."

"So did I," Ewan admitted ruefully. He stood up, absently rubbing his chest. It was too easy for Will to see those arrows striking him, and hear the scream of complete horror from Rachel. He flinched at those memories and another one from recently; the deaths of Ewan's parents. Ewan saw the grimace and cocked his head. "Everything alright?"

"Fine," Will lied. "It's just a bit peculiar seeing you again."

"Trust me, at the moment, I'd rather be dead."

"If you'd rather be dead," Will said, "then perhaps you can help me escape to get some of that spice of life back into you?"

Ewan shrugged. "I just tried to kill my sister. I really doubt she wants to see me anyway."

"The key word there is 'tried'," Will said, trying to remain optimistic. "As long as she's still alive, there's hope for The Story!" Then he remembered the Editor's words and deflated. "But we have to save Guy as well." Ewan raised a disinterested eyebrow, the only prompt Will needed. He told Ewan everything about his interview with the Editor, especially about Rachel eating the poisoned apple.

Ewan slapped his forehead at the end of Will's tale. "For heaven's sake!" he exclaimed. "She willingly ate the apple? Of all the stupid things to do..." He subsided into irritated muttering as he stood up and stretched. When he saw Will giving him a strange look, he grinned a little. "What? If my little sister needs my help, I'm not going to sit around here and mumble about how I want to die—again. We need a way out."

Will tugged off his boot, procuring the pin he and Guy had been working so hard to get. "The Snow Queen was so kind as to not search me for this," he said with a cheeky grin. His grin faded. "Except...it takes me a while."

Ewan shrugged. "Something tells me they didn't put us in here because they'll be needing us soon," he said. "We've got time to kill."

They did indeed have "time to kill". It took Will over an hour to finally pick the lock on the door and get it to open. He peered out into the hallway before opening the door all the way. "We're clear," he said.

"For now," Ewan said. "Just remember, the Snow Queen might've disobeyed the Editor once, but that's no guarantee she'll do it again."

"Snow guarantee?" Will asked with an innocent smile.

Ewan glared at him balefully. "No puns, please," he said pleadingly. "Can't bear that."

"Fine," Will said. "But you started it." He touched his hip, once again bemoaning the lack of a sword. He always felt a lot safer with his sword at his side. He was anxious, and when he was nervous, he talked a lot and it didn't make much sense.

Ewan must have sensed his nerves, because he slapped him on the shoulder. "We're two defenseless, magicless young men wandering through the most powerful person in The Story's home. What could possibly go wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing," Will replied.

The two started moving down the hallway with absolutely no idea where they were going. Ewan tossed his black cloak over his shoulder as they reached a two-way junction. "Any ideas?" he asked Will.

Will shrugged. "We need to be going down, towards the cells. Much more than that? I can't remember. I have a horrible sense of direction, and the Merry Men never let me forget it."

"I don't have a bad sense of direction, but every time I was brought here I was unconscious," Ewan said with a shrug. "You know what they say about lefties—they're the work of the devil."

Will sent an insulted look at Ewan. "I'm left-handed."

Ewan smiled innocently. "All the better! They'd expect you to go left. So..." He cocked his head and listened. "Let's go right. Like, now."

Will heard a large group of people moving down the corridors. He looked at Ewan, blanching. "I'm guessing they're probably not here to break us out."

"Probably not," Ewan agreed. "Come on!" The two young men fled down the corridor, to the right as Ewan had suggested. Neither one wanted to be on the wrong end of the Editor's army as they ran as fast as they could.