Archive of Our Own

Barley's smile was stretched wide as he observed the fluffy snowflakes falling in buckets from the night sky. They were illuminated by the porch lights and streetlamps, and despite the snowfall beginning mere moments ago the ground was rapidly being blanketed in white. 

The first snow of winter! Barley thought excitedly. He was looking out the living room window, knees digging into the sofa cushions as his breath fogged the glass. Blazey stood next to him, wagging her tail as she too watched the snow. 

"Mom, you've noticed it's snowing, right?" Barley asked, turning his head toward the kitchen.

"Sure have!" Laurel responded in a cheerful tone, "At the rate it's going, everything will be covered by morning." She was loading the dishwasher, since Ian had unloaded it for her after supper. "I may have tomorrow off, depending on how the roads are looking." 

"Wish I could say the same," said Colt with disappointment, "But we'll need to be out in case there are any accidents."

Barley resisted the temptation to say "sucks to be you". Instead, he said, "How about the school? Think Ian will be off?"

"I know he is," answered Laurel, "We just got the notification on the radio." 

"Perfect!" said Barley with a grin. He stood and jogged up the stairs to Ian's bedroom, Blazey trailing after him. Without missing a beat, Barley knocked on the door. He heard Ian groan, and only then did Barley look down and realize that the light in Ian's room was off. Barley winced: Ian must've been trying to sleep early. Before he could slink downstairs and pretend nothing happened, footsteps padded to the door and pulled it open. 

"What?" asked Ian grouchily. He couldn't have been in bed for very long, but his eyes were drowsy and squinting from the light in the hallway. He yawned and covered his mouth with the top of his old T-shirt. 

Barley felt momentary guilt, but it was overshadowed by his plans for tomorrow. "It's snowing!" Barley said, leading in with the obvious. However, this seemed to be news to Ian.

"Really?" Ian said with interest. Rubbing his eyes, he walked over to his window and pulled back the curtains. "Huh." 

"Pretty cool, right? Pun intended," Barley added cheekily. He walked into the room to stand next to Ian.

"Ha ha," said Ian dryly, rolling his eyes. 

"Hey! That snow way to address a good joke, Sir Iandore!" Barley said in mock outrage. 

Ian cringed. "Barley..." 

"Come now, don't be so uptight! Sometimes it helps to chill." 

"Barley..."

"You know, little kids ride their tricycles. Some people ride bicycles. And some really hardcore folks have got their motorcycles. Do you know what yetis have?" Barley grinned as he waited for Ian's answer. 

"I give up."

"Icicles!" 

"That's dumb," Ian said, but the corners of his mouth were twitching. 

"You liked it!"

"Did not!"

"Say!" Barley suddenly said, "What do you call the window to winter's soul?" He wiggled his eyebrows at his younger brother.

Ian stared at him. "Don't say it."

"I'm gonna say it."

"Please don't say it."

"I'm totally gonna say it."

"Barley--"

"Ice!" Barley laughed triumphantly. Ian chuckled, shaking his head in fond exasperation. "All jokes aside, though, I was wanting to go out tomorrow to enjoy the weather! Want to go with me?"

"Uh..." said Ian, gnawing his lip as he considered the offer, "Well, I've never liked the cold all that much."

"So dress warmly!" Barley said simply, "C'mon, Ian, when was the last time we properly enjoyed a snow day together? You know? Snowmen? Hot cocoa? Snowball fights and snow angels?" Barley gasped in delight as an idea came to him. "We could make a snow fortress! Declare war on any who would dare attempt to breach it!" He felt positively giddy at the thought. 

"Well..." said Ian, still deciding. Barley noticed that Ian's eyes kept glancing at his bed, unable to completely hide his desire for sleep. 

"Ian, I hope you don't think I would go so far as to get on my knees and beg for your presence at my side."

"I just--"

"Please!" Barley exclaimed, instantly dropping to his knees and clinging to Ian's scrawny (and startled) form, "Please, please, please, I don't wanna be out all by myself, it would be absolutely no fun alone and you're my favorite person in the whole world, pleeeeeeaaaase--"

"Okay, okay!" Ian yelped, trying to lean away from Barley, "I'll go! As long as you let me sleep in..."

"Great!" Barley cheered happily. He stood back up and ruffled Ian's hair, "Then I'll see you in the morning. I can't wait!" He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. 

Ian walked Barley back to the doorway. "While we're out, you'll stay close, right? You won't run off and leave me?"

"Of course not!" Barley affirmed. He added slyly, "We'll stick together like igloo." 

Personally, Barley thought that Ian's response of shutting the door in his face was quite the overreaction. 

The next morning Barley was humming loudly to himself as he got dressed. Laurel repeatedly requested that he put on multiple layers of clothing, but Barley wasn't as sensitive to the cold as Ian was (likely on account of his bulk). He made himself a peanut butter and banana sandwich for breakfast as he waited for Ian to emerge. Barley had to suppress the desire to run straight up, grab Ian and run out. He was afraid that if he annoyed Ian too much this morning, he would change his mind and stay home. So Barley was left to fidget with his plate and the crusts he'd peeled off his bread, when he finally heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

"I'm ready," said Ian. Like Barley he was dressed in a coat and winter boots, but he also wore gloves, ear muffs, and a scarf. 

"Excellent!" Barley replied approvingly, "Then we're--"

"Hold it!" said Laurel sternly, "Are you wearing enough layers?"

"Yes, Mom," Barley responded impatiently. Was it so much to ask that they just go already? Why did they have to wait?

"Extra socks and pants?"

"Yeah," Ian told her.

"Thermal underwear?"

"MOM!" chorused two mortified, adolescent voices. 

"Just checking," she said. Her eyes, brown like Ian's, were twinkling mischievously. 

"On that note, I think it's time to go," said Ian hurriedly. His face was flushed beet-red with embarrassment, and he fumbled for Barley's arm to pull him to the door. 

"Mom, are you sure you don't wanna come with us?" Barley asked over his shoulder. 

"Nah," Laurel declined, "I think today is a good day to pull out my electric blanket, brew some spiced apple cider and curl up on the couch!" She approached them and adjusted Barley's hat so that it didn't sit lopsided on his head. Next she plaited Ian's scarf before tucking it into his coat. "You two know the drill. Be aware of your surroundings. Be cautious around people you don't know. Don't lose sight of each other." 

"We know, Mother," Barley said to her.

"You both have your phones, right? Don't let them get wet. And call me when you're about to head home."

"We will," Ian assured her with a smile. 

Laurel kissed both their cheeks, having to stand on tiptoe to reach Barley's. "Be careful. And have fun!"

"We shall, we shall!" said Barley with a confident nod. He opened the door and was greeted with a blast of cold air. "Whoo! Feel that lovely, icy wind!" 

Not wanting to waste another minute, he swept Ian out the door and dashed after him. 

The sound of feet crunching through the snow was music to Barley's ears. Each frosty breath he took in made his lungs feel fresh and new. Every time he exhaled a small, misty cloud burst from his mouth. Currently snow wasn't falling, save for the stray flurries that appeared each time a patch of existing snow was disturbed. But the sky above was a calm shade of gray, and it showed no signs of changing in the near future. There was a good chance that more snow would arrive later. 

"This is nice," Ian spoke, his voice filled with contentment, "Going on a walk like this. It feels peaceful." 

Barley gave Ian an affectionate bump to his shoulder. "See? I knew going out would be fun. And everyone else is having a good time, too!"

Barley was referring to the neighbors they were passing. Almost every household had at least one person out enjoying the weather. Already Barley had seen people playing games, taking pictures with their phones, and sitting on their porches with a hot drink. 

"So, uh...where are we going?" Ian questioned. He glimpsed at the footprints they were leaving behind. 

"To a place that will have plenty of space for our needs!" Barley answered.

"Which is?"

"The park!"

"There's bound to be a bunch of people there..." Ian sounded unsure.

"I know! Isn't it great?" Barley said enthusiastically. Ian didn't look convinced. "Come on, Ian, snowball fights are more fun with lots of participants!" 

Ian sighed, "I guess." 

Barley loved being around other people. To talk to, to play with, to make the wild moments in life even wilder. But Ian was the opposite. Being surrounded by people, whether Ian knew them or not, seemed to be taxing on him. Overwhelming, in some cases. As soon as a house gathering ended, the first thing Ian did was retreat to his room. Even while the gathering was ongoing Ian had to take short breaks from the crowd. Barley didn't hold this against Ian, but he did pity him for being stuck with such an issue. Of course, Barley hated being alone. 

"It won't be all day," Barley reassured, "When you think about it, any kids who are there will be gone before we will. Their parents won't want them to stay out too long. Fear of catching a cold and all that." 

Ian's expression brightened considerably. 

When they reached the park's entrance, it was as Ian said. It wasn't a massive group, but some parents had decided to bring their children to play on the swings, the slides and the monkey bars. Barley was beaming at the sight. 

"What do you want to do first, Ian?"

"I--"

"Snow fortress!" Barley shouted, rushing over to the side of the park, which had the largest vacant spot. He practically crashed to the ground in his excitement, and immediately started building his snow walls. Without a word, Ian kneeled next to him to help, amusement lighting his eyes. 

The end result...wasn't as grand as Barley had envisioned. He had imagined stalwarts, barricades, cannons and a drawbridge. What he was looking at now was a snow structure with three waist-high walls. "It's missing something," Barley muttered with a frown.

"I think it's missing a lot of things," Ian said, breathing warmth into his gloved hands. 

Barley walked all around the...fortress...trying to think of that one thing that would make everything look more impressive. He snapped his fingers as it came to him. "We need a flag!"

Barley charged over to the trees, where he found a sufficiently long branch that had long broken off. He brought it back to the snow fortress and stuck it straight into the ground. Then he pulled his hat off and draped it over the top. Barley was pleased with the improvement. "Now it's perfect!"

Ian shrugged, not really confirming or denying Barley's statement. 

"Um, 'scuse me," a small voice said, tugging on the back of Barley's coat. Barley turned to find three children, two satyrs and a troll, standing behind him. It was one of the satyrs, a girl, who had spoken. "Can you make us walls too?"

"Oh, you mean a fortress?" Barley asked. He was flattered that these youngsters would come to him for assistance. "I don't see why not! Wanna lend me a hand, Ian?"

The two of them set about building a second snow fortress, several feet away from the first one. The more they progressed, the more kids congregated around them, offering their own advice on how the fortress should look. Without anyone even suggesting it, they all searched the playground for things to decorate the walls with. Pine cones, shiny pebbles, even their own accessories, provided their parents allowed it. They'd also made their own flag out of another tree branch and Ian's scarf, which he'd loaned to them only reluctantly. 

As they worked, Barley couldn't help but notice the expressions of the parents. Some of them were friendly enough, being openly encouraging and chatting amicably with Barley and Ian. But the others seemed to be wary. They tried to hide it; they averted their gaze whenever one of the brothers looked at or spoke directly to them. But the way they were eyeing Barley and particularly Ian, as though expecting one of them to cause trouble...it rubbed Barley the wrong way. The only reason he didn't confront them outright was because their kids were present. He didn't want to make a scene in front of them. If Ian was aware of the adults' behavior, he gave no outward sign of it. To deal with it, Barley decided to do what he often did best: enjoy himself without caring what others thought. 

"Who would approach the Stronghold of Lightfoot nobility?" Barley demanded bombastically from behind his structure. He was hunched down so that only his eye peeked over the wall.

"Me," the girl satyr, Starry, piped up. 

"And what qualifies thee to enter?"

"I can throw a mean snowball!" 

Barley laughed, "You are worthy to pass!" Within seconds the satyr had rounded the fortress to join him. "Next!"

"Hi," said the troll boy, Bart. 

"Salutations! What art thou qualifications to join the House of Lightfoot, good sir?"

Without hesitation, Bart boasted, "Nobody can knock me down!"

"A fantastic trait for a steadfast warrior to have!" Barley approved, "You may enter!" Bart ran into the fortress, and the satyr boy--Starry's twin brother Dusty--stood, his little nose red from the cold. 

"Hello, young squire!" Barley greeted. He made some effort to keep his voice extra sunny for Dusty, as he didn't strike Barley as being outgoing like his sister. "For what reason should I grant thee access to this humble abode?" 

Dusty shuffled on his hooves. "It's lonely out here."

"...Good enough! Welcome aboard, Sir Dust of Spacington!" Beside him, Starry giggled at the nickname. 

"Can we start already?" one of the other kids complained from the other fortress. Before Barley could answer, however, a snowball was thrown at his face. It managed to graze his ear, and there was laughter from both sides. 

"By firing the first shot," Barley announced hammily, "thou hast declared war!" 

In the storm of snowballs that erupted, Barley hardly got the chance to speak again. They were hurled from either side of the field, some falling short of their targets, others far off to the side, and yet many others managing to hit either the intended recipient...or one of the unfortunate parents. Barley knew he was the best shot of all of them, being the biggest and all. But he purposely missed the kids in the other snow fortress a lot of the time, and he even allowed some of their snowballs to hit him, because his size gave him an unfair advantage. All the kids laughed at his expense, though not unkindly, and he laughed with them. His pride was a small price to pay if it meant that no one felt cheated or alienated. Barley frowned as he looked off to the side. Speaking of which...

Ian had been hovering on the edges of the playground, observing the chaos. So far he'd made no effort to join in the shenanigans. This wouldn't do at all: Barley had brought Ian so that they could play together. Somehow, he had to bring Ian into the game. 

"Everybody!" Barley called, "Feast your eyes on he!" 

He pointed dramatically at Ian, who was now looking sideways in confusion. He was probably thinking that Barley was referring to someone else. Seeing no one around him, Ian uttered, "Uh--"

"A suspicious person!" Barley declared.

"Huh?!" Ian stuttered, "Suspicious how?" 

Thinking fast, Barley retrieved his hat from their makeshift flagpole and threw it at Ian. Then he gasped loudly and pointed again. "He has stolen our flag! He must be stopped!" 

At this, Ian shot Barley a look that said, very clearly, I will get you for this. That was all he had time to do, for the children speedily converged on him with shrill battle cries. Before Ian could even react, he vanished under a pile of elementary schoolers.

Ian had fun; Barley could tell. Ian wouldn't admit it, as he had an impressive scowl on his face after being "revealed" as the flag thief. But he wore a small smile and eyes shining with mirth when he thought no one was looking. 

Within an hour and a half, as Barley had predicted, the parents were ready to take their kids home to eat lunch and warm up. As they waved good-bye to the satyr twins, who were the last to leave the park, Barley murmured, "Do you ever imagine it?"

"Imagine what?" asked Ian.

"Having kids of our own someday," Barley answered. 

Ian blinked in surprise. "I don't know...I haven't thought about it much."

"I have," said Barley softly, "I'd like to have a boy and a girl. Kids I can read to at night, cradle in my arms, play games with...even the girly ones like Tea Party! I'd do it all if it meant I could make her smile." Barley meant to stop there, but he found himself continuing. "I want to tell them about their Grandpa Wilden the Whimsical. To hear their feet running through the house while they play together. To watch them grow up...maybe they'd grow to be like us, but maybe they wouldn't. It doesn't matter--I'll love them either way. And...I don't ever want them to be afraid, Ian. If they ever have bad dreams, I want to hold them until they feel safe again."

"Like you did for me."

Now it was Barley's turn to be surprised. He turned his head to see a knowing smile on Ian's face. "I didn't think you remembered that."

"How could I not?" Ian asked, "When we were little, it was the only way I could go back to sleep." He walked over to one of the swings and sat down, his expression wistful. There was a swing next to him. A bigger one, meant for troll children like Bart. Barley took that one. It reminded him of how he'd always wanted a porch swing, but sadly, their porch wasn't built for that. 

"Do you still have bad dreams, Ian?"

"Occasionally," Ian admitted, "but not as often as I used to." 

"You can still come get me when they happen," said Barley in concern.

"That's okay," Ian replied appreciatively, "You helped me get strong enough to deal with them on my own." 

Barley was so touched by this that for a moment, he couldn't say anything. Then he told Ian something that was perhaps overdue. "You helped with mine, too." 

"Hmm?" 

"In the past...I had awful dreams about Dad. About...that one memory." He didn't need to specify which one. "But..." His throat was starting to feel tight. "After you gave me...the chance to fix my mistake..." He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

"Did the dreams go away?" Ian guessed hopefully. 

Barley nodded. "They did. My nights got a lot more restful. I owe you so much..."

"Barley," Ian said with a small shake of his head, "You don't owe me anything." He held out his hand, crusted in snow. "I was just paying back what I owed you." Barley took his hand, and they sat that way for a while. They didn't say anything more, and they didn't release their hold on each other. 

The silence was broken when snowflakes drifted past Barley's face. He looked up. "Look, Ian!" he gasped.

Once again snow was beginning to descend from the sky. The snowfall wasn't heavy, and the snowflakes weren't very big. But that could change at any time. Barley tilted his head back and opened his mouth, savoring the feeling of snowflakes melting on his tongue. 

"Wonder if that'll be enough to cover the mess we made here," said Ian thoughtfully. Barley surveyed the park, which had been marred with footprints and trenches and mud kicked up from beneath. "You ready to go, Barley?"

Barley stood up and stretched. "Affirmative!" He waited for Ian to stand and walk toward the gate. Then Barley swiftly stooped to grab a handful of snow, patting it into a uniform shape. "Oh, Ian?" he called innocently.

"Yeah?" Ian turned back.

"I lied!" Barley hurled the snowball at Ian, catching him square in the forehead. Ian narrowed his eyes, calmly wiped the snow from his face...and knelt to the ground. Barley cackled as Ian bolted after him with two snowballs of his own, and he ran to stay out of his little brother's reach.

This was what Barley had wanted so badly. A havoc day in the snow, just the two of them, one-on-one. And since Ian was also fairly good at snowball games (when he could be coerced into one), Barley didn't have to let anyone win. They chased each other around the park, yelling nonsense at one another, throwing snowballs, dodging...and laughing. There was so much laughter that Barley felt his cheeks aching. All of this happened as snow fell steadily from above, dusting their hair and swirling around them.

As Barley was busy making a fairly large snowball, he misjudged how fast Ian was moving. Ian brought his hands up forcefully into Barley's, crushing the snowball into clumps of powder. Barley's jaw dropped at this outrageous display. "Hey, you're not supposed to do that!"

"Says who?" said Ian audaciously, reveling in his successful sabotage. 

"Says me!" Barley charged, wrapping his arms around Ian's midsection and bringing them both to the ground. Ian squirmed, trying to get free, but Barley had him pinned down. "You give up, little brother?"

"No, never!" 

Barley shrugged. "Okay, then." He scooped up more snow and rubbed it into Ian's face. Ian sputtered as some of it got into his mouth, and his hands flailed in an attempt to push Barley off of him. "How about now? If you don't, some of that snow might be going under your shirt..." Barley said in a sing-song tone. He backed off just enough to let Ian speak unhindered.

"Okay, I give!" Ian gasped, "I give!"

Satisfied, Barley climbed off of Ian, who sat up...and thrust a bunch of snow into Barley's face.

"I lied...!" Ian panted, out of breath. Barley was, too. They both collapsed onto their backs, side by side, chests heaving. 

After a few moments of catching his breath, Barley said, "Defiant...to the...end. That's...my...boy..." 

Ian didn't respond, but his smile said that he heard Barley's proud tone. They both lay there, staring straight up at the sky, which was now dropping bigger, fluffier snowflakes. If they didn't get up now, they could be buried before too long. 

"You know," Ian finally said, "Burger Shire's not too far from here. I could go for something hot."

"I like your thinking, Sir Iandore," Barley said agreeably. He climbed to his feet, then grasped Ian's hand and hauled him upright too. At last, they left the park.

Contrary to what many adults said, Barley thought that Burger Shire made good food. It was a real treat for them to sit at a booth, eating nice warm burgers and fries, and drinking creamy hot chocolate. Chatting about various topics ranging from high school to village gossip, and watching the snow outside their window. 

After they left the building, Barley had an idea. "Hang on a minute!" He sprinted over to the drive-thru menu.

"Barley, the snow's coming down pretty heavy," said Ian anxiously, "We should probably be getting home now."

"Don't worry, we'll be homeward bound soon," Barley promised. He was already arranging the snow on the ground next to the pavement.

"What are you doing?" Ian inquired curiously. 

"I," said Barley importantly, "am making a snowman!" He'd already formed the bottom part, and was now working on the middle. "Wanna help?"

"Well...why make it here?" 

"So that the hungry drivers have someone friendly to greet them, of course!" Barley answered. Really, though, shouldn't that have been obvious? 

"Okay...?" 

"Wanna give me your scarf?"

"No! I already let you guys use it at the park. Find something else!"

Barley huffed, "Fine." 

Unfortunately, they couldn't put any of the usual stuff on this snowman like carrot noses, scarves or coal buttons. But as Barley always liked to say, they would just have to use what they had. And what they had was a drained paper cup, a couple of straws, and some plastic silverware from inside. The cup became the snowman's hat, the straws its smiley face. The black plastic forks were too short to make sufficient arms, but Ian had the idea of using the plastic wrap they came in as improvised rope, which they used to tie more forks together and make them longer. Ketchup packets were used to form a tie for the snowman. And mustard packets became its eyes. A butter knife was stuck into the middle of its face to be the nose. When they were done, Ian and Barley stood back to see the results.

"This is either the most pitiful or the most horrifying snowman ever," Ian said in dismay.

"I love it!" Barley stated, "This is a prime example of using what you've got to its greatest potential!"

"If you say so..." said Ian doubtfully.

They were heading back for home when they heard screams behind them. In shock, the brothers turned to the source. The screams of frightened children came from inside a car...in the drive-thru. It was clear they'd seen the snowman. Barley and Ian exchanged a quick look...and hurried home without acknowledging the monstrosity they'd left behind them. 

Laurel stopped them before they could enter the house. "Hi, boys. Did you enjoy yourselves out there?"

"Absolutely!" Barley confirmed. He patted Ian's shoulder, sending snow scattering from it. 

Shoes, hats, coats, anything else with snow on it stays on the porch," Laurel instructed, "I don't want any ice tracked into the house."

"Wait, we haven't done any snow angels!" Barley remembered in distress.

"I did," said Laurel, "Out in the yard. I even got Blazey to do one with me." Her eyebrows creased as she looked at the ground. "Not that you can tell anymore. But I'm pretty sure this will still be here tomorrow. For now, it's time to warm yourselves up."

"Gladly," Ian said. He'd already stripped most of his outer layers off, eager to be inside. "I call the shower!" 

"That's all right, I don't need one," said Barley.

"Yes, you do, mister!" Laurel retorted, "If you don't get a hot shower, you could catch a cold!"

Barley grumbled as he stepped into the living room after his mother and brother. They really did worry too much. 

Even though he'd complained about it beforehand, the shower actually felt nice after being out in the cold all day. Barley could feel his muscles easing under the water, and when he inhaled the steam, he could feel himself warming from the inside out. When he walked out of the bathroom in his pajamas, he could smell popcorn. 

"Mom says this is a reading day," Ian explained. 

A reading day was what the Lightfoots referred to when they would sit in the living room and do things like read, listen to music, nap, or other things that didn't generate exertion. These activies were often accompanied by snacks like ice cream or popcorn, and such days were reserved for when the weather forced them to stay in. It was a time of quiet and relaxation, and even though Barley preferred noisy pasttimes on the whole, he could make an exception for reading days. 

Laurel had prepared two bowls of popcorn. A medium-sized one for herself, and a larger one for the brothers to share. She was dressed in a winter nightgown and robe, reclined in her chair and reading a book. Her blanket covered her legs, and her eyes already looked sleepy. Barley wouldn't be surprised if she drifted off into slumber where she sat. His eyes fell on Ian, who was sitting on the sofa and wearing thick socks. He'd pulled out his old GameSquire, and he had earbuds in, his eyes focused on the screen. 

Barley sat down next to him, pulling the popcorn bowl onto his lap. "Mind if I watch?" 

"Go ahead," Ian replied, "Just don't hog all the popcorn." 

"Who, me? For shame!" Barley nudged Ian playfully before wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Ian chuckled in response. 

In the end, Barley didn't know if their mother had fallen asleep after all...because he and Ian had drifted off themselves, completely exhausted from the energy they'd spent today. When Barley slowly awoke, the lights had been turned off. The room was lit only by the porch light outside, which meant night had fallen. He and Ian were leaning against each other, a blanket covering them both. Ian was breathing softly, his head on Barley's shoulder, his hair tickling Barley's cheek. His eyes were closed, his face totally serene. Barley thought about rousing Ian so they could retreat to their rooms...but he decided not to. This was one of those moments that Barley wanted to last forever, and he had no wish to disturb it. 

No bad dreams, Barley thought, Ian...

Beneath the blanket, Barley gently squeezed Ian's hand. He shut his eyes, ready for sleep to retake him.

...thank you for chasing them away.