A small fishing boat stood in front of the trio as they walked on the old dock. The wood was weathered from salt and slightly green along the edges. The bustling street behind them bled onto the pier as fishermen and mongers walked around the area. It stank of fish and salt. Margaret and Abraham stood quietly behind Miss Peregrine as she spoke to one of the fishermen. His boat was smaller than the other ones, and looked older by a few decades. Still, when Miss Peregrine handed the man a few coins, and motioned for the children to follow, they did. When they were told to sit next to stinking nets, they sat. And when the salt breeze slapped them in the face, wetting their hair and stinging their eyes, they didn't complain.

After riding on the rickety boat for what seemed like hours, a speck could start to be seen through the dense fog covering the ocean. By now, Margaret was beginning to feel queasy, her stomach turning at every wave the boat would crest. She never thought she would be so glad to see that speck. When they finally pulled into the crescent shaped harbor and docked, Margaret nearly ran off the boat.

"Do you not like sailing?" Abraham asked after he got off, a twinge of humor in his voice.

"No" she murmured, studying the cobblestone of the ground below

After a few seconds, Miss Peregrine found the pair and, after thanking the sailor, took them into the town. The town itself was small. Old stone walls disrupted the green sheep fields. Whitewashed buildings weathered with sea spray littered the street, shingled or thatched roofs topping them like hats. People milled about the town, some dressed to go out to sea, others wearing twill. Two women came out of what could only be a store, and stared at the children as they passed.

"Good day." Miss Peregrine quipped. The women turned away, blushing with embarrassment. More people watched as they walked through the street, following a path that led them up towards the cliffs behind the town.

"What is this place?" It was Margaret who spoke

"This," Miss Peregrine gesturing around "is Cairnholm. It's a small, fishing island off the coast of Wales. The villagers are nice enough and don't interfere with us. It's a safe place for our kind."

"Wait, there's more you?" Abraham asked, slowing his quick steps to stay behind the women. She walked with a limp, and Margaret thought she could benefit from a cane.

"Yes" she responded "I have ten other wards at my house. Miss Bloom, Mr. Nullings , Miss Bruntley, Mr. O'Connor, Miss Elephanta, Mr. Apiston, Miss Frauenfeld, Miss Densmore, Mr. Bruntley and Mr. Somnusson."

"Oh." To Margaret, that was a lot of children.

A heavy fog covered the stone inlaid path. By now they had long ago left the town, the only passerbys being the occasional herd of sheep. The path took them along cliffs, sheep pastures, and ended at a bog. The dark water and light grass was a stark difference from the lush green of the fields.

"Follow my footsteps and you won't sink." Miss Peregrine said before lifting her skirts and began walking into the bog. She wore what could only be described as Victorian riding shoes; deep brown leather boots with endless laces. Abraham went first, and Margaret followed. They tried their best, but by the end, each of their shoes had been coated in mud. They finally stopped at a wall of rocks. Miss Peregrines called them cairns.

"This is the entrance to our home." Miss Peregrine turned and spoke with a soft authority. Not threatening, but sternly. They must heed what she was going to say. "This also marks the end of the property. You are not to go across these rocks without my permission. Understood?" They both nodded their heads.

She then proceeded to walk in between two of the taller rocks. Hesitantly, they followed her through the rocks, and walked out into woods. Tall trees stood inviting, their thick leaves blocking the clouded sky. After a minute's walk, the group entered into a clearing. Margaret took a breath in at the beauty of it

For a brief moment, the sun broke through the dense clouds, and it glistened off the many windows of a large, lovely house. Victorian in style, it had large brick walls interrupted by arches and metalwork. A worn green roof ending in points reached towards the sky. Surrounding the building were lush bushes, trimmed into shapes of people, animals, and other objects. A small pond with fish was placed in front of the whole scene, so the house could look at its reflection. Children who were playing outside stopped to stare at the two as they crossed the threshold. They followed them to a large front door, and into the house. The children crowded around the mother-like figure as she cleared her throat.

"Children, these are our new wards, Mr. Abraham Portman, and Miss Margret Fichter. They will be staying with us, and I expect you to give them the same respect you give each other."

"Which is none at all." said a boy with goggles. He had dark brown hair, and Margaret could have sworn she saw a bug fly out of his mouth. Everyone giggled

"Miss Bloom," Miss Peregrine said louder, ignoring the boy's comment. "May you show these two the house and their rooms?"

A girl no older than 16 came forward. She had sandy hair that was cut short around her face. She was pretty, strikingly so. As she walked forwards, her skirt danced around her pale legs. Abraham smiled at her, and she smiled back. It reached her green eyes, making them crinkle in an appealing manner.

"Course, Miss P." Her voice was light and flowy, the British accent rolling off her tongue in such an appealing way.

With that, the rest of the children either dispersed, or followed the small group when they thought they couldn't be seen.

"I'm Emma Bloom." she said, holding her hand out to the pair.

While hesitant, Margaret took her hand, but when she did, her entire body shuddered. Emma looked at her, a question on the tip of her tongue.

"What happened to your head?" Margaret's hand quickly went to cover the deep bruise on her forehead. It was noticeable against her freckles skin, and went from the top of her forehead and into her hairline.

"Oh I slipped and hit my head." she said, trying to push her hair around to cover it. While Emma accepted the story, Abraham watched her. He raised his eyebrows in question, Why did you lie? Margaret just shrugged her shoulders and followed Emma into the house.

First Emma led them to where they came in. Abraham hung his coat up, while Margaret kept hers on. The shirt she was wearing underneath was dirty from the hollow chase, and it was short sleeved.

"Aren't you going to take you coat off?" asked Emma

"I'm cold," she answered, then hurriedly added "but thank you for asking." The last thing she wanted to do was to offend the people she was going to live with.

Emma showed them the kitchen first. It was a large open room with brown tiled floors and copper pots hanging from the ceiling. The next was the parlor. Plush couches and knickknacks covered coffee tables litter the room, rugs over the wood floor. The dining room held a long table decorated in a white cloth, all of the chairs pushed in. The library held shelves and shelves of books. A small corner with armchairs and rugs was next to what was obviously a teaching station. The greenhouse was last, and was full of propagated plants, some for the garden and some for decoration. Throughout the tour, Emma asked the two questions such as their age, favorite color; things equating to small talk.

"So, where do you two come from?" she asked while walking up the stairs

"Poland." Abraham answered

"Margret, what about you?"

"Austria." she muttered

They were shown the bathroom, Miss Peregrine's, or as Emma referred to her as, the Bird's office, and some of the rooms. They stopped at the end of the hallway, and Emma knocked on the door. No one answered.

"He must be out." she said before turning back " Well, Abraham, this is your room. You will be sharing with Millard, but he is currently not here."

"Aye! I actually am." said a detached voice from the stairs "Was out tryin' to read" It was Scottish in nature, and while it wasn't deep, it wasn't high either.

Both Abraham and Margaret looked around, but saw no one. Then it clicked

"You're invisible." Abraham said

"Right you are." said the boy, Millard "Emma, the Bird just wanted to know if you gave the new wards clothes yet."

"Just gettin' to that." Emma said through her teeth, but then she turned to Abraham "Anyway, my room is right next to yours, so if you need anything, ask me."

"Or me." Milliard chimed in.

Emma glared daggers at his general direction, she was unsure of the exact location, and watched as Abraham walked into his new room.

"What's with the coat?" Milliard asked. That caught Margaret off guard. She turned to face the stair, a slight furrow in her eyebrows. She was about to answer, when Emma beat her to it.

"She's cold." she said aggressively at Millard

"Alright." The invisible boy said, dragging out the word. He then walked down the stairs.

"Thank you." Margaret smiled at Emma once he was gone

"No problem" she said "He can be a bit of a nosy git sometimes."

She then proceeded to walk across the hallway and open a door two down from hers. Inside were two beds on either side of the room. While one side was bare, the other side was obviously one of a child. The bed was hurriedly made, with the pillows out of place, and the sheets uneven. The wardrobe draws were stuffed with clothes, and a dollhouse stood by the end of the bed. In place of a desk, a toy chest sat open, full of dolls and other girl's toys.

The room itself had fading floral wallpaper that contrasted the dark oak of the floor. Dividing the two sides area was a window, the only current source of light in the room. The only things on the bare side of the room was a metal framed bed, a small wardrobe with drawers as a base, and a wooden desk.

"Hello" a sweet voice broke the silence.

A small girl had slipped past Emma and into the other side of the room. Her blonde ringlets bounced as she moved to sit on the bed, pink dress poofing as she sat.

"This is Claire." Emma said, then in a whisper she added "I hope you don't mind sharing a room with her?"

"No, I don't mind." Margaret whispered in response.

She walked over to the bed, and put her small carpet bag on it.

"Thank you." Margaret turned to Emma to smile

"I hope you'll like it here " she spun to leave before catching herself on the door frame "It's nice to have another girl 'round here, one my age, ya know?" she added before leaving

Margaret looked around again, soaking in the room. So much has happened over the past few days. She had left London, was attacked by a hollow, and now was living with more peculiar children. Shifting to sit on the bed, Margaret lifted her bag up, and began to lay her items out to be put away.

Three dresses and a skirt were put on hangers, two blouses, one white and one navy, were folded and put into a drawer that seemed too big for the small amount of clothing. A hair ribbon and hair comb were put onto the desk, and a photo of a woman and infant. It was grainy and worn, but the fame it was in protected it from further damage. Margaret set it on the desk so that it faced the window.

"Who's that?" Margaret jumped slightly and turned to face the girl. Though she was slightly surprised by the child's bluntness, she still answered.

"That's my Mutter." Claire looked confused. "It's my Mama."

She nodded her head and swayed on her feet, studying the woman "Where is she now? The child's bluntness continued it seemed

"She's not her anymore."

"Neither is my mother." Clair was beginning to ramble " She took one look at me when I was a born and screamed bloody murder. That's what I was told at least. But that's alright because Miss Peregrine is like my mother. She could be your mother too!" she finished excitedly before looking at me with wide eyes.

"Do you want to play dolls?"

"Um...alright."

She handed Margaret a doll with a bright blue dress and yellow yarn hair. Though worn, the fabric was still still soft against her fingers.

"That is Juniper, and I'm Jasmin, and they are twin princesses of Cairnholm." she said it as if it were a common fact, not a child's game.

They played like that for the better part of an hour, until Emma came up to fetch the two for dinner time. Putting the dolls back in the chest, they left. Walking down the stairs, Margaret found almost everyone seated at a large table. Besides the white table cloth, there was a hearty dinner of fish and vegetables covering the table. Claire went to sit down next to another younger girl, leaving Margaret to take the only seat empty. To one side of her was Miss Peregrine, and on the other was a floating hat.

"Glad you could join us." Miss Peregrine said happily as Margaret sat. "You may begin."

The children all began to pass food around, filling their plates with the meal. Margaret's plate felt bare next to the other, sporting only a small pile of carrots and potatoes. The stretch of the fishing boat had Margaret un-eager to eat anything from the sea. Slowly eating her food, she watched as a tall lanky boy ate plate after plate. When he noticed her gaze, he smiled at her, and then continued eating.

"Why aren't you eating?" asked Milliard from beside her

My god! Margaret thought he was nosey.

"I'm full." she mumbled, slightly embarrassed at his observation

"But you only ate a little." he said, prying her further

"Aren't you the observant one?" she retaliated, an hint annoyance growing in the pit her stomach

"Indeed I am." he retorted

Clapping her hands to break the tension, Miss Peregrine, or The Bird, began to speak "Alright children, it's about time you introduced yourselves to our new wards!" her eyes scanned the table "Abraham, let's start with you."

"Alright?" Abraham said nervously, licking his lips "My name is Abraham Portman. I am 16, and I come from Poland."

"What's your peculiarity, mate." someone shouted

"Undetermined." Miss Peregrine said quickly before Abraham could finish. Then it went down the line of people.

There was Emma Bloom, of course. She had the ability of fire manipulation. Her eyes lingered on Abraham as she sat back down

Next to her were the Bruntley siblings, Victor, the boy who had been eating platefuls, and Bronwyn. They both had inhuman strength.

Olive Abroholos Elephanta was strapped down to her seat, due to the fact that she was lighter than air. Margaret watched as Bronwyn fused over the strap, and made sure that both of the young ones ate their food.

Clair Densmore was next to her, and she had a huge, sharp toothed back-mouth. She pulled back her hair to show the table, feeding it bits of green bean. She only stopped when a boy with deep eye bags pretended to gag.

Hugh Apiston, the boy with the goggles who spoke earlier, had in-fact a working bee hive living in his stomach. Margaret felt glad that she wasn't going crazy. Hugh also spoke for girl next to him. Her name was Fiona Frauenfeld and she could manipulate plants.

The boy who pretended to gag at Claire was Enoch O'Connor. He had the ability to create homunculi.

Sitting with the best posture, and, the best clothes, was Horace Somnusson, who said he had prophetic dreams.

Next was Milliard Nullings, who was obviously invisible.

That left Margaret. Slowly, she began to speak, feeling as if the watchful eyes of all the children cut daggers through her skin.

"My name is Margaret Fichter. I used to live in Austria, and I am 16." Her voice was raspy, half way between a whisper and regular volume. Margaret winced at her heavy accent, its harsh sound cutting through the air like a knife. "And my peculiarity is...is."

Margaret tried to form words but they would not come out. Instead, her mouth gaped like a fish as she stood frozen. Her face flushed as her eyes widened with panic. It is safe here she told herself It is safe here and no one can hurt you. Still, Margaret felt reality begging to slip as the silence of the room loomed over her. How could she be safe? Sweaty hands gripped the fabric of her skirt as her eyes found the gaze of Miss Peregrine

"You can tell us in time." said Miss Peregrine, bringing me back

Nodding her head, Margaret looked down, her eyes glued to her plate. After a few seconds of tense silence, The Bird dismissed the table; no one was eating anymore. Margaret hurried out of the room, though she could still hear the whispering of some of the children. Walking around the back of the house, she found a door that led straight to the garden. Without thinking, she swung it open.

While the night was cool, Margaret was unbearably hot. In the safe solitude of the garden, she shrugged off the coat, letting it fall to the dew covered grass. Left in a short sleeved white blouse, she walked until she found a small bench. Sitting, Margaret let the cool night breeze calm her. She let the broken beams of moonlight illuminate her pale skin, covered in not only freckles, but small scars and nicks. Her eyes found the inked numbers on her forearm and a new wave of emotions came through; anger, pain, guilt. Margaret looked away and covered the tattoo with her other hand, finally letting out a choked sob into the otherwise quiet night. She could still hear his voice, yelling at her even now.

"Get up 48!" No matter what she did, Margaret wasn't Margaret, she was just a number. She was just 48, and the tattoo of 0048 on her arm proved it.