Pou-tine was a strange food. Made up of thick grass-shaped yellow-brown blades, blocks of squeaky ees, and thick dark sauce with orange and green chunks in it, it was one of the strangest meals he'd eaten here. Fralith poked at the bowl in front of him, frowning. Who came up with this food?

It was good—salty—but strange. What did they do to grass to make it so thick? Was it a kind of grass? Or was it a type of...meat? Plant? Rock? Using his fork to spear some of the yellow-brown grass and squeaky ees, he stuffed it into his mouth and chewed.

Ray-chel sighed from across the table and set down her fork. "I'm not hungry," she mumbled, pushing her bowl away.

"Are you sure? You didn't eat lunch." SmileTalk frowned, eyeing her bowl, then her face.

Standing up, Ray-chel nodded, rubbing her arm. "Yeah, I'm sure. I need to be doing homework, anyway."

"I can bring you some fruit later if you get hungry." RuthMom's eyebrows tilted, the corners of her eyes pinching and shoulders tensing.

"No thanks. I'm good." Pushing her chair back to the table, she slipped past the kitchen and up the stairs, movements slow and stiff. She placed her feet down like a nervous Slirdandrii, each step light but ready to fly into motion the second danger appeared.

He watched her form disappear up the stairs, clenching the fork tighter. She was...sad and scared? Why? Why did that make her not hungry? He hadn't been paying much attention, but as far as his fuzzy memory recalled, she hadn't eaten much lately, so she had to be hungry.

Drao said when people were hurt they did funny, sometimes bad, things like not eating or yelling at others. Was that why Ray-chel wasn't eating much? She was hurting? But what— the frantic pulse of the girl's heart thumping with his as they tumbled off the bed. His hand, surrounded by glittering shards of ClearStone as if it lay in water lit by moonlight. Thunder booming through his bones as he tucked into a roll.

He blinked hard, shaking his shoulders to clear away the memory. That's why. That was...scary. With the edges of shadows pressing at his skin, he shoveled more food into his mouth, casting his gaze around the table.

In the eyes of everyone lay the darkness of memories born of night and men, accentuated by furrows in brows and gazes fixed on the table before them. The darkness was the strongest in BlueShirt's eyes, and he started to stand, jaw set.

RuthMom covered his hand with hers, shaking her head. "No. Let her be, Matthew."

BlueShirt turned his gaze on her, eyebrows drawn together. Slowly, he sighed and sat back down, shoulders slumping.

Fralith chewed on the last yellow-brown blade, the edges of sensations no longer in the present slithering around his shoulder blades and in his stomach, mixing with a tinge of shadows. This family's sad, too, he realized. It has its own shadows.

And he was somehow a part of the shadows, just like in his blood family. His stomach clenched and he hunched his shoulders into the back of his chair, flashing his teeth. This was not going to be like the first time. The shadows weren't going to tear this family apart. He had to do something, but what?

What did Drao say about helping sad people? Squinting, he felt around in his memory, touching two strangely sticky corners before finding the correct one.

"What do you do when someone is sad, then?"

Drao smiled at him, gentle warmth tinged with the weight of personal experience. "There are many ways and many things to do depending on the person, but sometimes, being there for them—doing their jobs, cleaning their space, just talking to them about the day—is best."

The memory faded and he blinked, looking up. There. That was what he was going to do. "Beep," he muttered and slipped out of his chair, padding away, ignoring the calls from RuthMom and SmileTalk.

He slipped past the hall and up the second set of stairs, careful to put his feet down lightly so the steps wouldn't creak. At the door, he paused, the hush of the darkness holding him still. It was as if the small space he stood in required a moment of silence from everyone who stood there, a little piece of time to be polished in an endless flowing river.

Taking a breath, he shook off the darkness and pushed the door open.

Ray-chel whirled around with a gasp, clutching a purple bag to her chest. A few papers flew out from the bag as she spun, fluttering down to the FloorMoss like a flurry of feathers left behind by a SillyBird who'd taken off in a rush. "What," she breathed. "What are you doing here?"

The wolf jumped, yelping, and darted off into a short sprint. He flinched and placed a hand to his chest, flexing his fingers. "Beep."

Darkness clouded her face and she straightened, clutching the bag tighter like a hawk gathering itself up to strike. "Just— leave. I'm not— I'm not hungry, okay? I don't want any of your...beeps."

What was she saying? Her...BodyTalk was hostile and tense. Why? He cast his gaze around the purple walls and ceiling slanting towards the bed and the window.

For a moment, the room reverted to washed out grays and deep shadows slashed by broken ClearStone, moonlight, and flashing metal. Ray-chel lay beside him, tangled in the blanket, eyes so wide the whites reflected light like the moon, and thunder roared overhead.

He blinked, and the room was back to how it was; purple and eerie. His fingers drifted to his arm, rubbing the spot where the pellet had hit him, tingles racing down his spine. Shuddering, he pulled his hand away and returned his gaze to Ray-chel.

She gazed at him, brows knitted and mouth half turned into a scowl, eyes shaded by the downward tilt of her head. Pressing her lips together, she turned her face away, shoulders slumping and BodyTalk losing all its fire for sadness.

It hit him, then. This room, this place, she saw what happened in it all the time. She couldn't not see it, and it made her...funny. It gave her the sads and the not-eatings and the leave-me-alones. On soft feet, he reached her side and tentatively nudged her arm. "You beep?"

She glanced at him and sighed. "You feel it too, don't you?" Lifting her gaze to the bed, she started to trace a line on the back of her hand. "They removed all the blood and glass. Replaced the window, righted furniture; returned everything back to normal. But it isn't normal, you know? It still happened. It still was here. I—"

Her fingers curled to fists and her voice lowered to a choked whisper. "What if they come for me again? What if— what if they come for you? You'd— you'd make a good ransom, too. Maybe not a—useful ransom—" she shuddered, "but a ransom all the same and I— I don't want that for you, or for me, or for Dad. You've already been through enough. We've all already been through it enough."

Wrapping his arms around her middle, he leaned into her slide. Don't be scared. I— His mind flashed back to the fear painted across her face and steel hardened around his insides. I— I will protect you. "You beep...safe—" Please be the right word. "—beep. You...yes beep."

Ray-chel stared at him, the corners of her eyes pinching together as a flicker of a smile graced her face. "...Thank you, Zander."

He nodded, feeling it was the right response. He would protect her, if the man ever came back, because...because he wanted to. Because that was what he had trained under Drao and Jatmap for; to protect people he loved and people that needed it.

And Ray-chel...and Ray-chel was someone he loved.

————

Fralith's growing closer and closer to this family by the minuet, and he doesn't notice. At least, not much. Also, another sub plot! Yay! This is why this book is 60 chapters long! I have so much editing to do.

Anyway, that's enough rambling from me. Hope you enjoyed!