Jacob Peregrine is four when his peculiarity becomes obvious. Aside from being the only known child of a ymbryne, he's got his own peculiarity, and Alma was both looking forward and dreading the day that he came into his own as a peculiar child.

It happens just as dawn arrives while she's sipping a steaming cup of tea; all floral and honey and it's not her favorite, but it's tea all the same. The first delicate tendrils of dawn are beginning to filter through the lace curtains when she hears it. The tell-tale sounds her toddler.

But, it is far too early for him to be waking. Something must be wrong - all but confirmed when she hears a frantic, "Mama!"

The cup of tea hits the floor, steaming liquid seeping into the floorboards, and she's all but sprinting to her son, only stopping to pick up her crossbow and her quiver of arrows. She flings the door open and finds him huddled against the headboard, blankets pulled tight around him.

"Jacob?"

"Mama!" Tears and sweat have glued his messy black locks to his face and his blue eyes are big and wet when he looks up at her. "Mama, monster!"

Hollow.

It must be.

Those nasty creatures haunted her, even though she couldn't see them, she always felt them, heard them; the creak of bones rubbing, the slither of tongues, and the threat of death in every wet hiss. But, she doesn't see the gangly shadow of one, no long thin limbs, or the disgusting sound of a slopping mouth full of tongues wriggling like snakes.

"I don't see anything." but, she's an ymbryne, a bird of prey, so she remains hyper-aware, unwilling to let anything sneak up on her and bring harm of any kind to her child. "Where is it?"

"Over there!"

His tiny little hand immediately points to the darkest corner of the room. Of course. They're nothing more than an awkward shadow to anyone without the peculiarity to see them, so they use darkness to their advantage. They're smart, that way.

"What does it look like, Jacob?" she can feel the burning itch of wings, falcon instinct clawing at her to take bird form, protect her son the way a mama peregrine protects her eyasses in the nest. "Can you see it?"

"Lots of tongues, Mama." Jacob's voice is weak, now, and Alma can just hear his teeth chattering. "It's big!"

"I know, Jake." Alma's own voice is strained. "Jacob, I'm going to do something, now. I'm going to get rid of the monster but I'd rather you didn't watch. So, do Mama a favor and cover your head with your blanket and do not come out from under your blanket until I tell you, alright?"

"Okay, Mama."

She listens to Jacob adjust himself in the bed, sparing only a glance over her shoulder to ensure her son followed her instructions. When she is certain he cannot see or hear anything, she pulls an arrow from her quiver and readies her crossbow. Her aim is vaguely upwards where it might be most effective.

With a steadying breath, she pulls the trigger.

There is a wet, gargling hiss, a thud, and in the faint stripe of dawn through his window, she can just see the grotesque shadow of what was scaring her child. The hollow has barely hit the ground before she's dropped her crossbow and is tearing through the blankets, seeking her child.

"Jacob!" she gasps in relief, pulling her four-year-old from the bed.

"Mama!"

He is sweaty, exhausted, and still trembling when she cradles him against her chest. It takes her almost an hour to soothe him, settle him down enough to talk quietly with him about what transpired. It is only when he has told her everything he can remember that she knows it's time for a distraction.

"How about you have a bath and some breakfast and then we shall retire to the garden for a while?" Alma suggest softly, ruffling his damp hair. "I should think your animal friends will appreciate the sun, today. Perhaps some play would be good for you."

...

"You knew he was peculiar, Alma." a stripe of black flutters across muted gray silk. "You are, perhaps, the only ymbryne with a biological child."

"It is not that, that concerns me." Alma rubs the delicately painted rosette on her China teacup, the lines of her thumb catching on the familiar texture. "There was a hollowghast in my son's room, this morning."

"Oh."

"I understand he was going to be peculiar." smoky blue eyes watch the little boy frolicking happily in a maze of lush greenery. "I knew that. But, I was unaware that such a young child would be forced to carry the burden of this peculiarity."

"Alma," Miss Avocet turns her head sharply, curls cascading around her shoulders in silky ribbons of silvery white and black. "Are you telling me that - ?"

"Yes," Alma's eyes are wet. "My son can see hollows, Miss Avocet."

"But he is only a boy of four." the older ymbryne has never heard of such thing. "Surely, it was just a shadow."

"He saw it. I am certain of it." Alma barely manages to keep her composure. "It was hiding in the darkest corner of his bedroom. Not a shadow to be found. But, he knew it was there. He described it, he - " tears stream, now, salt and heat and she struggles for control of her emotions. "Jacob said that it had a lot of tongues and that it was big. I have never told him about a hollowghast. If it was merely a shadow, I do not believe he could have described it. Children have imaginations but this - this was no imagined monster. I killed it. I heard it fall, I saw the shadow when daylight arrived."

"I believe you, Alma." Miss Avocet shifts, wrapping an arm around the younger ymbryne. "How will you deal with this development? The Council of Ymbrynes already suspects things. If they believe an ymbryne birthed a peculiar, they will surely want him."

"They will never have my child." Alma hardens instantly, fiercely protective of her child. "He is my son. They can do all the tests they like on me but if they ever touch him, I will bring harm to them unlike anything they have known previously."

"But, how can you protect him from them?" Miss Avocet questions softly.

"By keeping his peculiarity from him." Alma is aware that it is risky - keeping a child's peculiarity a secret from the child. It is a rarely accomplished deception but Jacob is young enough not to realize what he saw, at least not for what his mother realizes it is. "Until he is old enough to be taught. I want what is best for my son, and right now, what is best is to let him be a child."

"Mama!" the four-year-old crashes into his mother's knees. "Look!"

"What is it, Jake?" she leans forward to tenderly examine the bunch of flowers in her son's hand. "Oh, those are lovely, little one."

"For you!"

Miss Avocet watches the tender smile that takes over Alma's face as she accepts the little bundle of Queen Anne's Lace from her son. Perhaps it is because she is the only ymbryne to have a biological child, or perhaps it is simply her strong maternal instincts, but whatever it is that makes Alma LeFay Peregrine such a beautiful mother, has also allowed her to form a deep, lasting bond with her son.

"Love you, Mama."

"Oh, I love you, too, my darling." Alma gathers him into her lap, gently touching the velvety flowers to his nose in a teasing manner.

Miss Avocet observes them for a moment. The soft eyes and hushed tones, hugs and kisses and giggles, a sacred and cherished bond between Alma and Jacob. Despite their powerful abilities, the manipulation of time, Jacob's second vision, they are first, and foremost, parent and child. But, Miss Avocet is left with little doubt in her mind that when he is old enough, Jacob Peregrine will be a force to be reckoned with.

Just like his mother.