Fiona waved goodbye to the cat, who, frankly, was too busy with his ineffective grooming to really notice. She scrambled up the ladder, then, sandwiched between her older brothers.
On the street, she paused with a surprised expression on her face. The quaint little street in which the trio had found themselves was lovely, composed of small, closely-placed cottages with overflowing gardens and flowerbeds. The sun's light fell on blues, greens, yellows, and pinks, brightening the entire street with a sense of cheer and peace.
Yet, Fi's surprise quickly became confusion, then caution as she spun in a slow circle in the street. "This isn't righ'," she murmured quietly. There was an edge of something else creeping into her tone, something entirely foreign to her usual cheer. It sounded like fear, verging on hysteria. "We shouldn't be 'ere! We 'ave t' go!"
