Days after the children returned, life in Hamelin inched toward a sense of normalcy. Horses and oxen hauled merchants' wares to the market, and parents brought their children along to replenish their homes with ample toys and trinkets. Rows of stalls that sold everything from loaves of bread studded with cranberries and raisins to hand-painted tops carved out of wood hoped to tempt their newest and youngest customers.

While the children had returned, the shadow of their disappearance still lingered over the town. Families fussed over their youngest members as if they feared they might wander away again if they weren't bribed with candy and toys. Even once distant brothers and sisters took time off from their apprenticeships to try to engage their siblings in all manner of games and mischief.

For their part, the children tiptoed through the town as if the smallest misstep would make them disappear. No longer did they snatch feathers from the farmers' chickens, splash in muddy puddles, or yank each other's hair. Instead, they followed their families without saying a word, trailing after them like tiny ghosts.

Once upon a time, William used to let Emma run through the market and peek at any booths that tickled her fancy. Sooner or later, she'd return with a fistful of dandelions and a spring in her step. Not even her getting lost among the crowds could keep her away from him for long. With Hamelin being as small as it was, everyone knew Emma's proper place was by her brother's side.

Those carefree days were long behind him. William led Emma by the hand, keeping her close lest she wander away from him once again.

He needn't have bothered. Despite her eager agreement to join him on his errands, Emma scarcely lifted her eyes from the ground. Where once she would have rushed to show him every blooming flower or wandering ladybug, now nothing seemed to catch her attention.

"Are you feeling well?" William asked. His satchel weighed heavily with the supplies he'd bought from Mr. Stein. The oats and potatoes would hold them over until the Harvest Festival filled the market with autumn's bounty, and the cheese would be a fine way to further celebrate Emma's return. 

"I guess." Emma kicked at the ground, sending orange and yellow leaves leaping into the air. Before she'd disappeared, she would have sprinted through the fallen leaves in a giggling frenzy, but now she stuck to William's side without so much as asking him to visit the toy maker and his marionettes.

A weight as heavy as his father's anvil settled in William's stomach. Something was definitely bothering her. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" he said gently. "I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to." He'd kept his fair share of secrets. None save his guitar and the Tantalus knew all his sorrows.

Emma glanced around before motioning for William to bend down. "Your nose looks like it really hurts," she whispered in his ear.

William breathed a sigh of relief that eased the tension out of his shoulders. "What, this?" He pointed to his nose, still red and swollen from being elbowed in the river. "Nothing time can't fix."

"Shouldn't you go see Dr. H—"

"No need to worry him," William said hurriedly. Anxious laughter bubbled past his lips as other townsfolk turned to stare at them. "I'll be fine."

He had to be. A visit to Dr. Hughes meant Father wouldn't let him out of his sight for weeks afterward. Something as mild as a broken nose wasn't worth the pain that could come after. He'd tended to far worse injuries on his own just fine.

Emma scrunched up her nose. "But—"

"Look!" William pointed to a stall with a bright blue sign depicting a loaf of bread. "We'd better go visit Mrs. Norton before she runs out of bear bread."

He didn't have to tell her twice. Emma sprinted through the market, weaving between other customers and dodging a horse-drawn cart filled with hay. William trailed behind her muttering countless apologies to the people she'd nearly crashed into. If there was one thing that hadn't changed, it was that he still couldn't keep up with her.

The smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the baker's stall. Mrs. Norton sold everything from crusty loaves to pies whose fruity fillings tempted many a wayward finger to pluck the sticky sweetness from beneath the lattice.

Though all of her baked goods were well renowned throughout Hamelin, none could compete with Mrs. Norton's bear bread. Dried berries and walnuts studded the perfectly browned rolls, each one topped with a glistening honey glaze.

"There are my two favorite customers!" Mrs. Norton greeted William and Emma with a smile as sweet as her desserts. Her ginger tomcat, Baron, dozed nearby with his tail curled in front of his nose. "You're in luck. Ernest fetched such a fine price for old Bessie's milk the other day that we bought enough honey to make an extra batch of bear bread."

William's stomach growled as he inhaled the bread's sweet scent. As much as he longed to get some for himself, he couldn't afford to buy a piece for both himself and Emma.

"I want some!" Emma reached for one of the rolls, only for William to gently take hold of her hand.

"One moment. We still haven't paid yet." William extracted his coin purse from his satchel. Scant few coins jingled within. Father would not be pleased if he returned home with it empty, but what more could he do but grumble if William told him their rations had been more expensive than expected? Besides, he didn't mind serving himself smaller portions for a week if that meant he could make Emma happy.

She licked her lips, standing on her tiptoes to peek at the goodies on display. "Everything looks delicious!"

"Ooh, I think you'll love the new spices we're trying out," Mrs. Norton said. "Just about ate half the first batch myself, I did. Praise the Lord that Baron didn't get his pesky paws into the cinnamon, nosey scamp that he is. He's been acting like a right rascal for days, so it's no wonder he's gone and tuckered himself out."

Baron twitched his ears in his sleep. William bent down to pet the cat's head. "Still a kitten at heart, I suppose."

A soft purr worked its way out of the tom's throat as he leaned into William's touch. Rolling onto his side, he stretched out his paws and parted his jaws in a massive yawn.

Then his gaze found Emma.

A hiss ripped through the air as the ginger tom sprang to his feet, his fur standing on end. Emma screamed as if she'd been bitten by a snake. William gasped as her fingers dug into his skin, her grip tightening as Baron growled.

"Oi, that's enough of that!" Mrs. Norton prodded Baron with the tip of her boot. The cat bared its teeth in one last hiss before dashing deeper into the market. "I don't know what's gotten into him. Hope he didn't give you too much of a fright, poor dear."

Emma sniffled, still clinging to William. "He's scary!"

"He was never like that before," William said. Sure Baron wasn't the most outgoing cat, but he'd tolerate even the most energetic toddler as long as they didn't yank his tail. It wasn't like him to get so aggressive, especially since he'd purred at William's touch only moments before.

"He's been a right mess ever since the children came home," Mrs. Norton explained. "Probably not used to all the hootin' and hollerin' anymore."

"It's certainly a big change." William wrapped his arm around Emma, giving her a quick squeeze. "A welcome one."

Mrs. Norton smiled warmly. "Aye, it's been far too quiet without all the little ones running around." She handed William two pieces of bear bread. "These are on the house."

"That's not necessary," William said. "I can—"

"I'm sure you can, but you won't. Not today. Think of it as a welcome home present for Emma." She winked. "I'm sure it won't be the last she and the other little ones receive, but I hope it brightens her day nonetheless."

William dipped his head. "Thank you, Mrs. Norton. May the Lord bestow blessings upon you."

He and Emma started their journey home with their chunks of bear bread in hand. Her eyes darted from stall to stall as they walked, her hand squeezing William's each time a cart's wheel thudded over the cobblestone.

"It's alright," William said gently. "I won't let anything hurt you." It was bad enough Baron had frightened her. She'd been through more than enough without the cat startling her.

Emma glanced up at him. There was no warmth in her gaze, only a quiet coldness as she stared at him unblinkingly.

A shudder traveled up William's back as he broke eye contact. What had gotten into him? Emma was a child. A seven-year-old who had been through things she couldn't remember. What did it matter if her gaze was too cold, her grip too tight?

Emma released her hold on his hand and sank her teeth into her share of the bear bread. Crumbs rained onto the ground as she tore into the treat, her lips glistening with glaze as they smacked against each other.

William's stomach snarled at the memory of his own hunger when the rats had thrown Hamelin into famine. He knew the ever-present ache that came with months of insatiable hunger far too well. "Why don't you have mine, too?" he said. "I'm not hungry."

Emma wordlessly snatched the bread from his hand. The only sounds that came out of her were her teeth crunching through the nuts and her greedy swallows.