The next day, the tubes in his chest were gone and all the previous tubes, circles, and the IV replaced them. Fralith brushed the black line over his heart, wincing as PainBird snapped at his fingers. He pulled them away and huffed at the black mass of annoying feathers and turned away, sighing.

Despite the sharp golden rectangles spilling from the window from his room — he'd been moved from the green area sometime when he had been asleep — and the SillyBird cooing outside it, everything was cast in a gloomy gray as if all the life and color had been sucked out. He had the MonsterShadow to thank for that. Its presence always made things gray, sad, and depressing.

He sighed away, easing himself into a sitting position and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The MonsterShadow's darkness lurked in his mind, coating the sticky cobwebs of a dream. What... had it been about, again? Something...something about...yelling? No...he'd...been listening to yelling.

Yes, that was it. He'd been listening to Father yell at...at...Drao, accusing him of horrible, horrible violent things. And Drao's voice — low and tense, almost angry if that was even possible for his soft-spoken mentor — defending his position. There was something else, too. Something he dreaded. Something that was horrible and bad and...scary. What was it? Fralith groped around the cobwebs, but the ones that held the answer had already faded.

Doesn't matter, he grumbled at himself. It was a dream. But it hadn't been a dream at first. It had been real. It had happened, just not as...not as how the dream made it out to be. And it did matter. It mattered very, very much. An ache tapped at his ribs and he growled, shaking his head. Stop thinking!

Closing his eyes and splatting every thought, he focused on the sounds around him and drawing them in, thinking their sound back at them.

Beep, beep, beep, went the BeepCorner.

Beep, beep, beep, Fralith thought back.

Coo, c-cooo, coooo, murmured the SillyBird.

Coo, c-cooo, coooo.

Whoosh, whoosh, thrum, the hunks of metal sounded.

Whoosh, whoosh, thrum.

Click! went the door.

Click? He opened his eyes, gaze shooting to the door.

"Good morning! How are you today, Special Brave Bud?" Tim walked in, pushing the cart before him.

The smell of fresh bread, eggs, and something else wafted from the cart. Fralith's stomach rumbled, grumpy bubbles reaching for the food. He fixed his gaze on the food. Food. It was food time. What had Tim called that time? Break-fast?

"Hungry, I'm guessing from that way you're eyeing up the food." Tim chuckled and patted the bed, smiling at him. "Don't worry, it's not going to run away."

He averted his eyes and fingered the blanket over his legs, only twitching slightly as the bed started to rise. Hungry. A part of him was hungry. The other part...the other part wanted to curl up and scream. So... not hungry, then.

Tim set the tray in place and put the food in front of him. "There you go! Enjoy your food." He sat in one of the chairs and waited.

Fralith glanced at him then down at the food. Bread, weird-looking eggs, and a bunch of red beans in red sauce. His stomach shrank away from the food and his throat clogged up. He...didn't want to eat it. It was just...new and— and different and— he didn't feel like eating. Didn't feel like trying out new things. Tasting new tastes. Chewing new textures. It was just— he was just— too weary. Too tired. Of everything.

He leaned back on the raised part of the bed, staring glumly at the food, questions bubbling in his mind like boils. Some were up front and flappy: why did it have to be new? Why did anything have to be new? Why did things have to happen like this? Why did the MonsterShadow come back? Hadn't he left it behind in—

Then there were some that were deeper, heavier, darker. Why did Davith leave him? Why was Father hard on him? Why couldn't he be good, like Davith? Like Father wanted? Were RedShirts like Father said? They couldn't be, right? There was Drao and his son; they weren't evil. But was he really sure of that? What happened in that cell? Was Drao gone forever? What did Fenzl do to Father after the— the— rebellion?

"Brave Bud?"

"BEEP!" Fralith yelped, jerking out of his thoughts, the pup's paws pounding in his chest. He and Tim stared at each other for a few moments.

"You...okay?" Tim eventually asked. He cleared his throat. "You were staring into space."

He blinked at him. 'Sp-ace'? 'Oak-kay'? What did those mean? What did any of those words mean? What did anything ever mean? He heaved a great, gusty sigh and turned back to gazing at the untouched food. I want to go home. I want to. go. Home.

But he could never go home. Not unless he died. A memory slid to the front, as quiet and soft as a flower blooming.

"Why do we have HomeKins?" he asks, touching the pale blue flower before him.

Davith squeezes his hand, gaze fixed on the small patch of flowers. "They're a gift from the Eternal to remind us of all those we have lost."

He looks at the flowers, watching their slender petals sway amongst the yellow grass. "How?" They were just flowers. Normal, pale blue flowers.

Davith doesn't answer for a few beats as he reaches out and cups the petals in his hands, leaning forwards and breathing in its scent. When he pulls back, a sad smile touches his lips. "When we die," he begins, turning his gaze towards him. "When our blood soaks the ground, these flowers bloom. Each one is unique to the person and...well, holds a part of them in their petals."

He pulls his hands away from the flower and pats his hand. "They remind us of who we lost and what they were like."

Tilting his head, he looks at Davith, searching for the source of his brother's melancholy. "And they take us places, right?"

"Yes, they do," Davith confirms, nodding. "Anywhere there is a HomeKin, we can go. It's a wonderful gift, isn't it?"

He smiles, snuggling into his brother's side. "Yeah." They stay like that, arms around each other and gaze fixed on the pale blue flowers, lost in their own thoughts. They sit in a whole field of HomeKins, blues and purples and shades of other colors spreading over hill after hill.

A summer breeze washes past them, bringing a mixture of scents so diverse and unique, it is impossible to pick out just one. He breathes it in, heart heavy with remembrance yet light with peace. There is so much loss represented here, but the field, the flowers, they were beautiful.

"Davith?" he asks, looking up at his older brother.

"Yes, LittleBird?"

"Who do these HomeKins remind you of?"

Davith's expression saddens, and he reaches forwards, gently plucking one of the delicate pale blue flowers. As soon as he pulls the flower towards him, another flower spreads its petals in the place where the first was. "These remind me of Amnble," he says, showing him the flower. "My older brother and your eldest brother."

He gazes at the flower, tracing each of its seven, long petals and touching the ocean-blue stamen. It looked...delicate yet, in some deeper sense, incredibly strong. Was that how his eldest brother like? He...he didn't remember him very much. All that came when he closed his eyes and sniffed the scent was a bright smile and deep, waterfalling laughter that was as warm as a summer day. "I don't remember him very much."

"You were very young when he...when he died."

He lifts his face from the flower and flicks his fingers. "Are you still sad?"

Davith smiles softly. "I will always be sad, LittleBird, but it's a happy sad. He's in a better place now; he's with the Eternal."

Nodding, he takes the flower and tucks it behind Davith's ear. "When will we go see them?"

"I don't know, but not now; it's lunch time." Davith picks him up and stands, ruffling his hair. "And I'm sure you're hungry."

He grins, wrapping his arms around Davith's neck. "Always!"

Davith laughs. "Of course you are, silly, LittleBird."

Fralith wiped at his eyes, swallowing around the lump in his throat and blinking hard. It was gone. Everything in that memory was gone. Lost. Forever. Forever, until he died, that is. HomeKins would sprout from where he died and they would stay there, never dying and always blooming. They would be the way home, the way back to the field of all the other HomeKins. Back to the trees of SecondHome and the people who lived there.

And what was the point of them? He couldn't use them; he would be dead. Gone. Lost. He'd be there with the Eternal and Amnble — flowing with the turning of time — and his flowers would be here, alone, and useless.

He curled forwards, pushing away the food and resting his head on the tray, letting Tim put his hands on him and murmur his meaningless words. I want to go home, he wailed into the darkness of his mind. I want to go back. I want my Brother Before. But most of all, he wanted that love he had felt back home. The safety. The protection.

He wanted The Lion.