A half-hour later Penelope sat in her bed, a wide smile on her face. She might have only gotten a chance to choose three books, but she had chosen well. The engineering book she’d picked detailed the inner workings of mechanical inventions she’d never even seen before. One invention that especially intrigued her was a piece of headgear with special pieces of glass that let people with damaged eyes see clearly again.

The two fantasy books she’d gathered were also wonderful. One contained an exhaustive list of fantastical creatures while the other was an adventure of a young heroine, Aurelia Dawnthorn. Penelope was especially excited about that one, she’d read about countless heroes, but hardly any heroines.

Penelope grabbed two bookmarks from her desk. She placed one in the engineering book and the other in the book about fantastical creatures. She then headed to her shelf where she kept her favorite bookmark and the only item she had left of her mother.

Pulling it off the shelf, she studied the blue-ish green and gold pattern. The bookmark was thick and made of leather. On it, in iridescent gold paint, someone had painted a very intricate design that started in the center and worked outwards. It reminded Penelope of a flower.

Penelope’s birth mother, Sanaya —a name Penelope had only learned through relentless searching of her house’s basement— had fallen in love and married Nathaniel Quill, shortly after arriving at Willowbrook. Penelope knew nothing about her mother’s life before Willowbrook, having been only a baby when she’d arrived, although she suspected her mother had traveled from very far. Penelope’s features were hint enough that her mom wasn’t from around here, from her round face, large wide-set brown eyes, and shoulder-length silky brown hair. But her most telling feature was her soft brown skin which was many shades darker than anyone else in the village.

Still, despite the long journey and young child, upon arriving at Willowbrook Sanaya had made a good life. Penelope knew her mother and Nathaniel had loved each other very much, and for five years everything had been okay. Penelope even had slight memories of the time, the feel of her mother's hugs, the warmth that bloomed in her heart every time her mother had kissed her to sleep.

But her mother had felt differently, and on the eve of her sixth birthday, she had just up and left. Sanaya Quill had left a note saying she was headed to Avalora and would be back in a month's time, but never returned, leaving both her husband and her child. Penelope’s last and only clear memory of her mother was her horse disappearing into the forest, never to come back again.

Ever since that moment, Penelope had been completely and utterly alone.

She knew Nathaniel Quill had never been a man fond of children, especially her. The only reason he’d adopted Penelope was to marry Sanaya and he had been perfectly happy leaving the care of his step-child up to his wife. That was until she left. To give credit where credit is due, her stepfather had taken the issue in stride. He’d kept Penelope fed and clothed (although he left the responsibility of cooking to Penelope, so perhaps it would be more apt to say she kept herself fed) and he kept a roof over her head (nevermind that the roof was in the attic and leaked constantly when it rained).

Still, though she’d never been disillusioned enough to think his treatment fair, she’d grown to not mind it. She didn’t mind the chores or the solitude, actually, she’d always loved the solitude. Penelope much appreciated her own company over the stuck-up townspeople’. And no, she didn't exactly appreciate the way her stepfather treated her, but it was tolerable. As long as she got her chores done, he usually didn’t bother her. The only thing Penelope truly minded was her father's strict supervision of her activities. She wasn’t allowed to leave the house without his permission or go out without appropriate company, which would be the aforementioned stuck-up townspeople. But these conditions she could manage. She’d managed them for years.

Penelope sighed longingly, glancing out the window. Her eyes caught on a group of three people talking slightly up the street —a couple and a man in a vibrant, conspicuous, red coat in a style she’d never seen before. The group shifted, facing her window and she recognized the couple as Mr. and Mrs. Ravenwood. Mr. Ravenwood owned more land than anyone else in the village, so the couple was well-known and respected. The red-coated man —Red, Penelope decided to call him— was unfamiliar to her, which was incredibly bizarre. Aside from the occasional traveling salesman, Willowbrook never had visitors. There was absolutely nothing in the remote town to attract people, what could this man be doing here?

Penelope studied him closely. He had dark brown tousled hair and fair skin. Mr. Ravenwood was incredibly tall, perhaps the tallest man in town, and appeared to have only a couple of inches on Red. And he was dressed in a way she’d never seen before. Red had on a loose top, similar to the farmers in Willowbrook, but his pants flared out at the bottom and were tucked into a pair of tall, black boots. Not to mention his coat. It was a shade of vibrant red that few in the village would be bold enough to wear.

The three turned toward her direction, still chatting. As the Ravenwoods led Red closer, Penelope could make out a distrustful frown on Mr. Ravenwood’s face. She also noticed how the couple gave Red a wide breath, walking farther away from the man than necessary. Interesting that the distrust seemed to belong to Mr. Ravenwood alone. His wife seemed to be chatting away with no hint of apprehension.

The three of them drew nearer and Penelope realized with a start that they were headed towards her home. Red seemed to pick up on that as well, his attention diverting from Mrs. Ravenwood's words as his eyes roamed over the house. Even from afar, she could see him studying it, his gaze attentive. As he looked, his gaze traveled to her window and connected with hers. Upon meeting her eyes, his expression changed into one of… recognition? No, that’s impossible, she’d never met this man in her life, that she was sure of. Penelope jerked back, away from the window. Cheeks red at being caught spying, she ran down the stairs to the front door.

She waited there for half a minute before the doorbell rang. Swinging open the door, Penelope found herself face-to-face with Mr. Ravenwood. The tall man’s scowl morphed into a sneer as his eyes landed on her.

“Ms. Quill,” Mr. Ravenwood nodded in greeting, “my friend Mr. Bird here would like a word with your father. Is he home?”

Mr. Bird? She’d never heard that name in her life. “Let me just fetch him for you” Penelope replied, then, remembering her manners, “would you like to come in?”

“No no, I have a meeting I must get to promptly.” Mr. Ravenwood answered. His eyes traveled past her, drifting to the dirty dishes and food her father had left on the table after finishing breakfast. Penelope felt a blush creep into her cheeks. She’d been so distracted by her books she’d forgotten to clean up. Mr. Ravenwood made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat and turned to leave. His wife, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to argue, her eyes betraying her interest in the purpose of Red’s visit. However, not wanting to go against her husband, she followed him down the stairs.

As they left, Penelope’s eyes drifted to Red for the first time since their arrival and found him studying her. She noted his rather bizarre attire again. Studying it at this closer distance, she could make out more details. His most eye-catching article, his red coat, looked well worn but made of fine materials. Underneath the coat, he wore a loose, billowy white shirt, open at the chest and revealing a worn leather vest underneath. Around his waist, a thick black leather belt was strapped, holding up pants made from loose black fabric, also well worn. They were tucked into his shoes just below the knee, showcasing a pair of tall leather boots. In striking contrast to the fashion of Willowbrook, his attire was open and comfortable, prioritizing ease of movement. An image of a pirate she’d once seen in one of her books drifted into her mind, the clothing matching almost exactly down to the boots. Red shifted, drawing her attention out of her memory. She flushed at being caught staring —again— and regained her thoughts. “Would you like to come in Re— Mr. Bird?”

“I would be grateful, thank you.”

As she opened the door wider to let him in, her stepfather came down the steps, his mood from earlier clearly not improved. He glared at her as if the unexpected guest was somehow her fault. “Who is this man?”

“Hello, are you Mr. Quill sir?” Red interjected before she could respond.

Her father paused as if weighing how to handle the question. She watched as her stepfather's eyes took in Mr. Birds' attire and in the end, curiosity won out. “This is he.” her stepfather responded.

Mr. Bird looked relieved as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. My name is Mr. Bird. I’m looking for Mrs. Quill, is she home?”

For a moment Penelope thought she had heard wrong. And then her brain caught up with her and she realized she had heard wrong. Mr. Bird was looking for Mrs. Quill, not Ms. Quill. With the realization that he was not looking for her, but her mother, Penelope’s heart started pounding again. No one had mentioned her mother in years, aside from her stepfather, and even those rare occasions only emerged when he was properly drunk and usually resulted in Penelope getting yelled at for her leaving. She turned to her father, waiting for his response, but he stood frozen, equally stunned.