Fast

(3rd Person P.O.V.)

'Well, for all her faults, deviousness, and love for me, sometimes she can be quite...useful.' Wednesday thinks as she looks at her mother's back, expertly navigating the corridors and halls of the academy, as if she had just walked them the day before and not years ago.

The confidence in her step, despite lacking Wednesday's ability to hear around corners is...expected.

It took them far longer than Wednesday would have liked to reach an exit that led out towards the lake that they used during the Poe Cup, which her senses told her was devoid of annoyances for at least a mile, she concluded as she strained her senses beyond the door leading out.

They stood there for a moment.

No one of her family asking her why or how she could devise the cleared surroundings of their route as they waited.

Sometimes, she truly appreciated their natural ability to adapt to strange.

It did not take long, less than a minute, for Enid to rejoin the group, and then they were on their way. Running, no. Walking, yes. Strolling, I would say.

As they strode along, Enid prattled on to Wednesday about her discovery of the strange scent to her nose caught, and how it not only crossed their path, but also seemed to vanish into thin air.

It would not be a lie to say she was not intrigued.

Especially once she learned that Vlad said that it would be "fun" for them to look into it.

If she knew Vlad, which she did, than anything that he deemed "fun" in regards to the actions concerning others, usually meant something along the lines of dangerous, unique, or important. Either way, her interest was acquired.

She added the mysterious scent to ever-growing list of tangled webs, and she had to wonder just how such a small town housing a single academy for others could hold so many mysteries, all since her arrival.

Was she special? Was she the cause? The proverbial domino that set events in motion that led to one chip after another falling into action.

She knew she was connected somehow.

The fact that she was not yet dead told her that much.

Why else would the monster allow her to track it as she has been? Killing her would have been most efficient, and it has been shown that the monster has no problem killing.

However, it did not.

Something in its eyes, that first night she saw it, after it finished shredding Rowan, told her that it would not hurt her.

She wanted to know why.

Goody had warned her, that day she won the Poe, that she had a part to play.

But what was it?

Then, there was the burning of the innocents by Joseph Crackstone, that she was shown.

How did that connect with her part in Goody's play.

He is long dead. And the dead do not simply come back to life to stir up nonsense...is what she would like to say. However, recent events have proven otherwise.

Is that it? Is Joseph Crackstone an undead of some sort and planning something? Could he be behind the man behind the monster, or could he be the monster?

Unknown.

Then, there was Xavier Thorpe and Tyler Galpin.

She would be a fool to not see how they look at her. Watch her. Whenever they think she cannot see.

It is the same way everyone looks at Vlad when they think he can see...and they can see him.

They are interested in her.

Why?

Her mind supplies an answer. However, that answer is not good enough. They hardly know her, just as she hardly knows them.

Perhaps, that should be remedied.

They have an interest in her. The monster has an interest in her. Goody has an interest in her. And unknown scents follow her path.

So far, everyone that she knows, that has taken an interest in her has been playing a game of some sort. A game in which she is woefully playing catch up.

Is it a mere teenage crush that the two boys are experiencing? Or are they players in the game?

No stone should be left unturned.

Just like no grave should be left undug.

"Garrett Gates," her mother reads out the name that is etched into the grave in front of which they stand.

If it were before, she may not have heard the undercurrents of apathy and slight repulsion in her mother's tone. However, she heard it now. Though, based on the tales of the past, the boy deserved no remorse wasted over his corpse.

"So, who shall do the honors?" Wednesday asked, as she looked around the group.

"No thank you, I'll just stay over here." Enid was the first to fire a quick response from where she stood a few feet away.

"You have your fun, dear." Her mother supplied next, as she checked her nails for some reason.

"It has been a long time since we have exhumed a body as a family," her father spoke with nostalgia. "However, I am not exactly dressed for it. I'll leave it to you kids." Fair enough.

She turned back towards the grave. Pulled out a shovel from the sack that she carried with her. And then another.

She handed one to Pugsley and took the other in her hand.

Despite their success with shaking off the fuzz earlier in the day, they were currently exposed. They had to move fast.

"Keep an ear out, Enid. We're exposed and I don't like it. Pugsley, dig." It didn't need to be said, but Pugsley only works fast if he is given a prompt command. It is one of his worst traits, among the many. As well as one of his best. Not many can follow others promptly from those more capable.

"Want to tell me about Wednesday growing up?" Enid asked cheerily after being silent for a few minutes, as she ambled up beside the elder Addams.

Both of whom looked quite pleased at the opportunity to share war stories about their eldest. However, before they could begin the walk down memory lane, faster than either of them could think to evade, Enid had jumped backwards and flipped backwards a few feet away, practically silently landing in a spot that was not occupied by the clump of mud that took over her previous standing area.

Her head whipped to the grave that was far more along than it should have been, with a look of innocence. As if she had not just attempted to commit pry into her friends past, right in front of her. The indecency.

Wednesday continued her digging, as if she did not just hurl dirt with pin-point accuracy. However, the message was clear to all. Talk and die...or at the very least, require a trip to the cleaners. Either way, there would be consequences that none were willing to pay.

Grave digging in silence, it is.

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(A/N: Additional chapters are on patreon.com/TheGreatestHunter .)