The dusty floorboards creaked as Night stepped up from the ladder. “Sonora,” she called softly, her hand on the tightly-closed door to the little girl’s room. From inside there was the sound of coughing, and not light coughing. Night winced and pushed her way inside.

“Sonora,” she said again, announcing herself to the girl. The six-year-old looked up but her coughing prevented her from answering for a moment, and when she did her voice was more raspy than usual.

“Night,” she whispered happily, sitting up in bed. However, her tone quickly changed and her face fell a little. “I don’t feel good.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” Night agreed, trying to hide the pain she herself was feeling. “What hurts you?”

“Here,” Sonora pointed to her chest, “and here,” her head, “and here,” her stomach, “and my eyes.”

“Hmm.”

Night stood at the girl’s bedside and looked around the room. It was so small and dark – not a ray of sunlight came in even during the day because of how Tristan had carefully sealed it – was this really all Sonora had? Somehow Night hadn’t really realized that before. Four flat walls, a flat ceiling, a flat floor, a flat pile of blankets. There was a candle burning in one corner of the room that gave hardly enough light to see by. This was the kind of place in which you’d waste to a pale mass – and Sonora was pale, really pale. Of course, everyone was, but she was especially so. Night’s eyes turned back to the thin little girl on the bed. Her eyes weren’t anything outstanding, but they were more alive than she’d realized. And had she always looked so small?

“Night?” Sonora asked, not noticing any of the thoughts written across her older friend’s face.

“Yeah,” Night replied a little absentmindedly.

“What happens to sick people?”

“What do you mean?”

“When they get really sick.”

Night still didn’t really understand the question. “Well… they get better, eventually… usually.”

“What if they don’t?” Sonora pressed.

“Then they die,” Night told her flatly. “Why do you want to know? You’re not that sick.”

Sonora looked a little abashed. “N-no…” she stammered, then paused. She raised her big eyes to meet Night’s, and for a moment she seemed to be looking for something inside them.

Night suddenly saw her asking for comfort, or at least, so it seemed to her. “Every time I see you you’re not perfectly healthy, of course, but you’re never bad. You’re just a little more delicate. Not as sick as dying.”

“Not with you,” Sonora finally replied, hanging her head like she’d said something bad.

“What do you mean, ‘not with me’?” Night asked, confused. “You don’t change how you feel depending on who walks into the room.”

“But it’s true!” Sonora insisted; now that she’d said it once, she was defending her idea, whatever it meant. “When I’m around you I don’t feel as bad as I usually do.”

Night laughed. “That’s ridiculous, Sonora. It’s just because you’re distracted. You’re not thinking about it.”

“No, really! You make me feel better for real.”

“How?” she asked, a little challengingly.

“Well, I don’t know how,” Sonora admitted. “It’s like you… you’re…” She sighed. “I don’t know. It just happens.”

“You’re silly,” Night repeated. “That doesn’t happen. Did you eat already?” she asked, by way of changing the subject.

“Yeah, Tristan gave me something,” Sonora answered.

“At least he’s not that absent-minded,” she muttered, knowing it wasn’t quite true.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” Night said dismissively.

“Are you mad at him again?” Sonora asked.

Night sighed in frustration. “He’s going to leave.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have a clue! He’s not saying anything about where he’s going or what he’s doing, and he’s just leaving all the responsibilities for me to take care of at zero notice.”

“Maybe he trusts you,” Sonora suggested.

“Yeah, yeah, I know he does,” Night said with a roll of her eyes, adding under her breath, “I don’t think I trust him.”

Sonora had obviously heard her anyway. “Why not? Tristan’s nice!”

Right. Exactly, Night huffed to herself. He’s probably going off to look for some more worthless kids to drag back here, and we both know that if he takes anyone else in, I’m going to have to stay here all the time instead of exploring and going out all day. But he doesn’t really care about that; he thinks I’m selfish enough as it is, barely helping out with anything here. As if I could help with anything.

“It was a joke,” she said aloud. “Ha ha.”

“Oh,” Sonora said, still sounding a bit confused.

“You’re just not old enough to understand,” Night lied, a superior expression unconsciously on her face.

“I’ll grow up soon, though, and then I will be,” Sonora assured her confidently.

Night paused, a tired look on her face. She felt much too old to be twelve years old, and she realized that the girl before her was right. All too soon, she would grow up, and be thrown into the harsh world they had to live in – Night was hardly older than Sonora was now when she’d lost her mother and everything she knew.

“Yeah,” Night sighed. “Soon you will understand. All too well.”