Just as we greeted the Deathless when they arrived to the funeral, Mom, Declan, and I wish them all a goodnight as they leave. After most of the crowd has cleared away to their tents for the night, I turn back to where our family waits for us, ready to ask Daniel if he'd like to talk to the two kids on the other side of the lake with me, but he's gone.

"Where is Daniel?" I ask. This disappearing act is getting annoying.

Eleanor rests a tired hand on her belly. "He went back to the tent. Did he not say goodnight to you?"

I shake my head.

"I'll have a talk with him. He's been off lately, hasn't he?"

I shrug, but Dad voices my thoughts, "I didn't want to be the one to say it, but there's definitely something going on."

Eleanor nods, rubbing her stomach. "I'll talk to him," she repeats, heading up from the bank to the tents. "Goodnight everyone."

"Night, Eleanor," Mom replies.

Declan turns to me. "Need me to give him a piece of my mind?" he asks, punching his fist into his hand.

I laugh. "No, thanks. We're fine, he's just... absent."

Except we're not fine. I think we're falling apart, I want to tell him, but I don't dare say that in front of my parents. As much as Daniel and I never wanted them to know we liked each other, I certainly don't want them to know we're going through a rough patch.

"He's really upset about his detectors killing those pilots," I tell Declan, Mom, and Dad.

"That's his rabbit, huh?" Dad asks.

"Yeah, I guess it is," I say. And look how long it took me to get over that. How long it's still taking. Terrifying uncertainty returns to me. Please don't let the pilots be his rabbit, I plead to the night sky.

"Ready for bed?" Mom asks, wrapping her arm over my shoulder.

I look back at the kids, who still play by the shore. "I want to check on those kids first," I say.

"I'll go with you," Declan tells me.

My parents kiss my forehead and wish me a goodnight, then Declan and I walk the shoreline toward the kids. I need a buffer between Eleanor's conversation with Daniel and what I hope is a productive conversation with Daniel anyway. Uncertainty has filled me with anxiety. What if he says something I don't want to hear? Something about needing space? I can't handle that right now, not after the empowering night I just had. Right now, I need the space.

"You sure you're good?" Declan asks.

I tuck my arm through his and rest my head on his shoulder. "No."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Okay," he says. "Friends share stories, but sometimes friends don't need to hear them to know what you're going through."

I squeeze his arm. "Thank you."

When we are close enough to talk to the kids, Declan takes the lead. "Hey there," he calls, and they look up from building floppy structures from the sand. They look to be about four or five years old. Maybe they're twins, though I can't be sure, since dirt covers most of their features. It's hard to tell if they have the same nose or not, but they definitely have the same eyes. Dark brown, so dark they look like night.

"Hello," the little girl says.

I push Daniel from my mind for the conversation, and smile. "We met this morning, right?" They nod their heads. "It's nice to see you again. What are your names?"

"My name is Oriana," the girl says, "and this is my brother, Neo."

"Are you here with anyone?" I ask.

"Our aunt," Oriana says. "We're waiting for her."

"She's the astronomener," Neo says.

Oriana jabs him with her elbow. "Astronomer. Her name is Rachel."

I look around for any women walking toward us, but there's no one except some stragglers from the funeral, whose shadows look like giants stumbling home in the dimming bioluminescent light from the lake.

"Dr. Rachel Sanders," Declan informs me. He faces away from the kids to whisper, "Their parents died in the bunker attack. She's their caretaker now that she's back from the estate."

These poor kids, I think. They're too young for such tragedy.

"Is Aunt Rachel coming to get you?" I ask them after collecting myself. "Or do you want to head back to camp with us?"

Neo shakes his head. "She said to wait here."

"Are you his wife?" Oriana asks.

Declan and I burst into laughter. "No," Declan says definitively.

"Oh," Oriana replies, shrugging. "Well, I like your hair. It makes you look like a princess."

"Or a fairy," Neo adds.

"Like she has magic," Oriana tells him.

Kids are so random, I think to myself, a smile creeping over my lips. "Thank you."

"Didn't you hear my speech?" Declan asks them. He kneels down so he's on their level. "She is magic. She has the power to make anyone happy."

"Now me, now me," the kids say in unison, jumping up and down.

I'm not sure where Declan was going with this, so I play along. Stretching out my arms and closing my eyes, I wiggle my fingers in their direction. "There. Done. It may take a while to work, though, so be patient."

"Why?" Neo asks.

He caught me. "Well, because sometimes people can't become happier overnight."

"Aunt Rachel told us we have lots of good things coming for us, so that makes me happy," Oriana says.

"I hope so," I say.

"I hope we all have good things ahead of us," someone from behind me says. I turn around and recognize the face of the astronomer, Dr. Rachel Sanders. I've seen her a few times around the camp, but I don't know really know her yet. Her hair is cut short, but she wears long feather earrings that fall on her dark shoulders like hair.

She smiles at Declan. "Good evening, President Kunkle. Or should I call you Executive Kunkle now? I heard the announcement from my telescope over there. I approve of the new regime."

"Glad to hear it, Rachel," Declan says.

I extend my hand to her. "Hi, I'm-"

"-Isla Blume. Yes, I know, I was at the estate. Congratulations, by the way. Judge Blume? Is that what we're calling you now?" I shrug. "Either way, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Rachel," she says, extending her hand. Now that her arms aren't crossed in front of her body, I can see she's pregnant. Very pregnant. I must look shocked, because she continues as she pulls her niece and nephew close to her hips, "I was a Carrier. One of the first, since I didn't leave with General Sato or the other scientists. I'm due any day now."

"Do you...?"

"Know whose baby it is? No, I don't, but I guess if it comes out looking like anyone, then I'll know. If it has metal bones or slicked back hair," she jokes.

"I can find out for you actually. Eleanor Crowley has the list."

"Oh, yeah, Eleanor. I know her. Alright, sounds good. Anyway, I've been tracking Roberts' crew's arrival. If it's alright with you both, I'd like to present my findings to you soon. Maybe tomorrow? You all need to know as soon as possible, because... strange things are happening."

"Tomorrow will be fine. We can set you up in the cafeteria," Declan tells her.

"Wait, what kinds of strange things?" I ask.

"I'll show you tomorrow. I will have all my pictures and graphs then, so it will be easier to see what I'm talking about." She smiles, and bends down to talk to Oriana and Neo, "Well, are you two ready to go to bed?"

They nod. "Aunt Rachel, she is magic. She made us happy," Oriana says, as she and her brother take Rachel's hands.

She smiles. "Is that right? Do you feel happier now?" They smile and nod. "Well then, I suppose I should thank you, Isla. Don't be greedy with that magic power. Lots of us need it these days."

Like Daniel. If only I really were magical.

"Alright," I laugh, masking my uneasiness.

We smile and wave as they head off for their tent, leaving Declan and I alone in the darkness. Declan's smile fades as he looks up at the stars. "What do you think she found up there?" he asks.

"My guess is something with Robert's crew."

The two lovers shine down on me. They remind me of the invisible string between Daniel's soul and mine. It's taut, threatening to snap between us.

"Let's hope it's that their spacecraft blew up, and that we don't have to fight them now."

I look at Declan with concern. "You don't think they deserve a fair chance?" I ask.

"It's not that they don't... it's that we deserve a fair chance more."

At the tent, Mom, Dad, and Eleanor are still awake, joking and reminiscing outside the canvas. "Oh my goodness, and remember when they found over who could read that book first?" Mom laughs.

Eleanor rolls her eyes. "All Quiet on the Western Front, yes I remember. I lost my cool a little that time."

The three of them laugh as I approach. "A little?" Dad asks.

"Isla," Mom starts, "do you remember what she said that time you and Daniel fought over who could read All Quiet on the Western Front first?"

I smile a bit at the memory. "Yeah," I say, temporarily distracted from whatever awkward conversation is sure to be waiting for me in the tent. It's nice to remember a time when the only things that came between me and Daniel were books and slingshots. "She said, 'It's the apocalypse, you have all the time in the world to read that book, just take turns.' And then I said, 'it's the what?'"

Dad and Mom laugh, but Eleanor sighs. "I wasn't thinking."

"Then, thanks to Eleanor, we had to explain the world to you two. Man, I really hope we didn't screw you two up," Dad says.

And then I'm reminded of the boy waiting for me in the tent. We are screwed up, I think. But it's not anyone's fault but Gunther's. "You didn't screw us up," I say. Pointing at the tent, I ask, "Is Daniel in there?"

Eleanor smiles and nods. "He's sleeping. I couldn't get to him before he passed out." She leans forward and whispers, "We'll talk to him tomorrow."

I'm halfway in the tent, when my family wishes me goodnight. "Goodnight," I reply, crossing the threshold.

Daniel is a lump, cocooned in furs and turned away from me. The faint moonlight ignites the tips of his hair with white light. He's lying farther away from where the two of us normally sleep, and knowing Daniel, that must be intentional. I lie down in our normal spot, and wrap the furs over my body.

"Daniel?" I whisper.

From beneath the warmth, I watch Daniel, just to be sure he's not faking it. His eyes dart behind their lids. He's caught in a dream. Or maybe a nightmare. I'm desperate to know what he's thinking.

Lying down, I wrap myself in the furs now meant only for me, and roll to the side, away from Daniel. If I let myself face him, I'll never sleep. I'll just lie here all night, imagining the sights he's envisioning and the words he's wishing to say.

Rustling sounds behind me, and within a moment, an arm drapes over me. "Daniel?" I ask, turning over.

"It's me," Celia replies before I can meet her eyes.

"Oh," I sigh, rolling back to my side. "I should have known you weren't Daniel. He barely talks to me anymore, let alone touches me," I whisper, loudly enough for him to hear my annoyed tone in case he's up. At least then, maybe he'd fight with me. I'd take a fight over nothing.

"Daniel's going through some stuff right now," she says as quietly as possible. "He reminds me of how I used to be before I met him. He needs a Daniel of his own to show him his worth."

"How can anyone be there for him when he doesn't let us in?"

"I don't know," she says. "I don't have any idea, all I'm saying is I've been there, and it's scary. Like, you want to be better, you know you have to be, but you just can't manage to do it. Don't worry, we'll help him, though. If he could help me, then we can help him."

She squeezes me, a sign of support from the only sister I've ever had. I hug her arm to my chest, and suddenly I can't let go. I hold her as long as she'll let me, as if all the bits of my core are returning to me as carbon atoms that I press together to crystallize myself. To make my core, the Isla I lost along the way here, as strong and as pure as a diamond. To forge myself into something new.

If only Daniel could become whole again too.

***

I wake up early again. Sleeping has been difficult since... well, since Mom and I were first alone all those months ago, but last night was especially torturous. I lie awake and watch Daniel sleep from across Celia and Eleanor's bodies until I'm sure if I watch him any longer, I'll burst into tears. What is happening between us? Are we still together, or is this space his way of telling me he'd like space permanently? The uncertainty is killing me.

I decide to distract myself by getting up and making the most of my time before breakfast. I retrieve the mockingbird and the papers I've been hiding beneath the crate. As I tiptoe out of the tent, I notice something. Daniel's cheeks are streaked with dried tears, and his hand is clenched around a small drawstring bag instead of his slingshot. I don't know what it could be, and given his behavior lately, I want to pull it from his grasp to see. But I don't want him to wake up and find me stealing something from him. I doubt that would help our situation at all.

A fire from last night still burns dimly by the lake, so I begin reviving it until the flames are large enough to warm me and sit away from it on the dirt. After retrieving my handful of words and phrases gathered from the estate, I place them face up in front of me. Fractured words from literature, torn apart by war, all wait for me to piece them back together. Like a puzzle, I begin creating a poem with the sentence pieces. It's nice to have fun with words again.

Feet shuffle behind me, so I lean over the words and turn around, not sure if I should feel protective or embarrassed. It's Dad. He smiles groggily, and takes a seat beside me. "Morning," he says, his voice crackling like the fire. He holds his hands out to it and sighs. "Did you make this fire?"

"No, I just brought it back to life."

He nods, his lips turned down in thought. "Good job," he says, leaning his lips to my head for a kiss. "Where are those from?" he asks as he points to the words.

"My friend Nina blew up Gunther's office at the estate, and he had a library of books right by the door. When it exploded, all these little pieces of books rained down in the foyer, so when we went back, I took some." I move them around aimlessly, trying to hide their poem-like shape. "I don't know why."

"I do," he says. "You always loved to read. You must be dying without books here."

"Not dying," I lie. Books are the very things I need in this exact moment, the one thing that could give me any comfort right now. "But... yeah, I guess I miss even just looking at words."

"Looking at words is what I do. You do more with them. They mean more to you." He pulls one of the pieces from the ground. "Don't tell your mom, but I really wish I had paid more attention when she tried to teach me to read. I didn't ever think I'd need to know how, and she was... distracting. Still is. Who can learn with a woman that incredible teaching you?"

I smile.

"It wasn't until you really got into reading that I realized how important it was. Your books, they were like doors into other worlds. There were places with princesses and dragons, places with talking animals, places from before the blast, or places from the future. And you went to all of them. Your mom went into the worlds with you, so did Eleanor and Ben and Daniel. I was the only one who just knew this world. I can't even imagine all the millions of places you have stored in your memory. Places I'll never have any clue about."

"Why didn't you ever ask me about them?" I ask.

"Ah," he groans, waving his hand, "that was something you and your mom shared. I didn't want to hold you two back. Besides, I thought nature stuff could be our thing. You know, flower crowns and planting with Ben, and going into the woods to find stuff. I tried to make it fun for you. Carve you little animals, and talk about how the trees and plants were like people, you know, to make it more like the stories you liked to read."

I smile. "It was fun. You taught me how to use a slingshot too, remember? I loved doing that stuff with you." I reach into my pocket and pull out the mockingbird. "I carry it around with me," I say.

He grins. "I'm glad you like it, and I'm glad you had fun with all of that. I really am sorry about the hunting stuff, though. I know that made things weird between us the past few years, but I was just looking out for you."

"I know."

"It's an important skill to have these days. Even here with the Deathless."

"I know. You were right, Dad." I lean my body against his. The words are still all set up in front of us, and hunting isn't the only important skill to learn. "I can teach you to read," I offer. "We can make it our new thing."

"I'd love that." He touches my hair. "Maybe you could also tell me about this? Why'd you dye your hair?"

"I needed a change," I say. He sees through my lie. "Red makes me sick. It reminds me of blood. My hair was just too close."

"Mine too?"

"I'll let it slide," I joke. "Besides... it wasn't your hair covered in blood at the estate."

"So, should I call you Peony now? Cherry Blossom? I don't know, what is this shade of pink?"

I push him away playfully. "No. I'll always be your Tiger Lily."

He smiles, and for a moment, I think he might cry. "Now," he says, turning his focus to the words, "what are we doing here?"

"Making a poem. I can read you the words, and then you can help me put them together in a poem."

"Deal," he says, and we begin creating our own world together.