“Alright, this was my favorite book series when I was younger,” Harrison says, setting three enormous books on the table in front of the couch where I sit after dinner, sipping warm cider from a cup. I stare at the books, my thin frame wrapped in a clean, dry dress in a nice blue color, and soft blanket. 

“Those are… huge,” I comment, my head already spinning from the cider, and now the size of the books. 

“Well, it’s Tolkien, so that’s expected.” Harrison sips from his own cup of cider, then sets it down. 

“What’s Tolkien?” I ask. Harrison blinks at me, then sighs. 

“I keep forgetting we’re from different centuries,” He says, chuckling to himself. “Oh, that’s strong cider, huh?” He blinks, then picks up the first book, which says Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. 

“Believe me, they drink worse in the capital,” I tell Harrison, sipping mine. He looks down at his cup, and his eyes widen. 

“How drunk do they have to be all the time so they can handle that?” Harrison asks, setting his cup down. I chuckle, and scoot closer, as he opens the book. Rain pounds against the windows and roof. “So, this book’s really confusing. But it’s so good, I’ve read it so many times,” Harrison says, pushing off his shoes, and putting his feet up on the couch too. 

I take a couple more sips of my cider, then set it down, leaning closer to Harrison so I can see the page. There’s a map on the first two pages, and I squint at it. 

“What part of the world is that?” I ask. Harrison chuckles. 

“It’s not a real place. It’s a fantasy book,” He explains, then pulls out a pair of glasses. “The prologue explains everything.” He puts the glasses on, and I watch him for a few seconds as he starts reading. 

“Those look nice,” I tell him, and he pauses, smiling at me before continuing. 

◈◈◈◈

Casey stands on the deck in the rain. Peach doesn’t like getting wet, so she’s with Teddy. 

“I don’t want us to argue,” I tell her, walking over, and folding my arms. She looks over at me, and sighs. 

“You’re not Olive,” She mumbles. “I miss her.” I nod, standing next to her. 

“Look, I-” I glance over at her. “She told me once that you were the most important person in her life. She doesn’t want you in danger.” Casey nods quietly. “I know you only want family around, and I really wish I was your family, but I can’t be, because…” I trail off. Casey’s eyes fill with tears. “Well, you know. I’m bad at talking.” 

“You’re part of the family. It’s just a small family,” She tells me, stepping closer, and hugging me around the middle. I hug back gently, sighing. 

“Casey, if someone as good as Flint can get caught in the line of duty, you can too. I don’t want the family getting smaller because of this war.”

“I can fight. I’ve done it my whole life,” She mumbles. 

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“We shouldn’t have to fight to exist either, but…” Casey trails off. “They need more people here than fighters anyway.” I nod. “Last time I went out, everything just reminded me of her,” She mumbles. 

“Exactly,” I mutter, fixing my glasses. Just this morning I saw a pimpernel flower between some concrete. The rain is making everywhere muddy. Passing the hospital, I saw small flakes of metal in a solution. It wasn’t gold in lemonade, but I still had to learn how to breathe again afterwards. “You should go inside. I don’t want you getting sick,” I tell Casey, sighing. She laughs quietly, walking off. 

“You’re such a snowflake,” She teases, wiping her eyes. “High-borns are so weak.” She enters the cabin building, and I chuckle, following her inside. 

Flint and Sadie are sitting on his bed again, her playing with his hair as they watch a movie on a tiny screen propped against a box. I swallow, and go to sit on my bed, sighing. The mattress creaks, and I open a book, rubbing my eyes under my glasses. 

I’ve got a migraine. But reading is very good for your mind. They told me that back in school. And Charles Dickens usually writes to match my dreary mood. I start to calm down as I read, then a line makes me pause. 

“You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read." I mouth, straight from the pages of the book. 

First Hemingway earlier this week with his “We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright," business, and now this? I shut the book abruptly, and close it, shoving it under the bed with the other discarded ones. 

At this point, I’ll just read a science textbook. Those aren’t nearly as painful. I think to myself, and hug my pillow, scooting backwards into a corner. I pull my glasses off, my eyes immediately going blurry, and watch the room disintegrate around me. 

“Cai,” Flint whispers, and I snap out of staring at the wall, tears dripping down my face. 

I pick up my glasses, and put them on, blinking. Flint’s holding a sleeping Sadie in his arms. 

“I was going to take her back to her cabin, and… you haven’t moved for the last hour, so… are you okay? Do you need anything?” He asks. 

“If you know a way to remove the ability to feel, that would be helpful, but that’s really all I can think of,” I answer. Flint nods, his eyes wide. 

“I’ll be back soon,” He tells me, and leaves, holding Sadie to his chest. I look out at the rain, shaking. 

◈◈◈◈

The rain is still going outside. I sit up, yawning. The fire’s died out, so it’s slightly chilly in the grayish room. I look down at the blanket and “fantasy book” on the ground, then over at Harrison asleep next to me, his arm around my waist. 

“Harrison,” I whisper, and he wakes up, stretching a bit. He looks over at me, and flushes. 

“Sorry,” He mutters, and sits up, moving to the other side of the couch. “Did you like the story so far?” He asks. 

“It’s probably the reason I fell asleep, if I’m being honest,” I say with a laugh. “It’s a lot.”

“Yeah, that’s a pretty normal reaction,” Harrison says, then buttons up his shirt that hangs open. “I’m going to start making breakfast. It should be ready in maybe twenty minutes if I start now,” He tells me, getting to his feet. 

“Okay. I should take a bath, I still have sand in my hair.” I say quietly, and Harrison nods, kissing my hand before walking off into the kitchen. 

I quickly move into my room, and untie my corset. I need to stop sleeping in these. I think, eyeing the small bruises on my ribs before I put on a soft bathrobe. 

In my adjoining bathroom, I turn on the hot water, letting it fill the old porcelain tub with its clawed bronze feet. A splash of soap in the water adds some nice pink bubbles, and I sit on the counter waiting for it to fill. 

My first bath in two months. It feels so nice… I think, scrubbing my scalp, and adding some shampoo. Once I feel soft and human again, I climb out. 

“You look nice,” Harrison says, as I come into the kitchen in a white lacy dress, with elbow-length sleeves. He’s watching some eggs frying in a pan. 

“All the clothes fit great,” I comment, looking down at my skirt. 

“Yeah, I had my friend Wyatt go shopping while you were asleep. You’ll meet him soon,” Harrison explains, as I look down at the dress, and spin slowly. He laughs. “Are you twirling, Olive?” He asks. I flush, and pause, looking up. 

“Maybe. It’s a pretty dress.” I walk over to the toaster, then yelp as it pops suddenly. Harrison bursts out laughing. 

“You always make me smile somehow,” He says, walking over, and pulling the golden-brown toast out. “If you’re so intent on doing stuff, you can butter those. I have to watch the eggs so they don’t burn.” He passes me a saucer of butter and a knife. 

“I’ll do the dishes too,” I add, grabbing a small bit of butter on the blade. 

“Nope,” Harrison says, shaking his head from by the stove. I chuckle. 

“Then I guess I won’t talk to you anymore,” I say with a smirk, and turn to the toast, not facing Harrison. I can feel his eyes on me, as I scrape butter on the warm crispy bread, humming. 

“You little-” He laughs. “Fine. Do all the chores you want,” He tells me, waving his hands. I giggle quietly. “You’re manipulative,” I get told, and I smirk. “I guarantee that I would be doing the opposite back home, so I didn’t have to do chores, so clearly you have a mental illness,” Harrison teases. 

“I get anxious if I’m not doing something,” I explain, and finish the toast. Harrison sets the eggs on a plate, and smiles softly as I bring him the toast. 

“There’s fruit over there, I cut it earlier so the rest of the food can be hot,” He tells me, gesturing to a bowl of cantaloupe and pineapple, and some strawberries. Strawberries! Harrison pokes me in the side as I make my way over to the fruit bowl. I smack his arm. 

“I’m going to eat all of these strawberries,” I tell him, reaching for the scoop. He pokes me again, and I yelp, trying to keep back a smile. “I hate you,” I giggle, edging away. 

“Eat quickly. We have to work on your powers now that you’re awake and well,” He says, putting two eggs on my plate with a slice of toast, after I get a scoop of mostly strawberries, and some pineapple. He fills up his plate and comes to sit next to me, kicking my foot as he does. 

“Alright, so, you remember what it felt like to use your powers?” Harrison asks me, as we’re in the cove again. A pile of scrap metal was just uncovered from under a tarp. 

“Vaguely,” I answer, my arms folded, as the wind blows around us. Harrison pauses. 

“Do you need a sweater?” 

“No,” I lie. Harrison watches me for a second, then nods. 

“Okay, well, it’s hard to do the Magnet thing for the first time without help, that’s why I had to be in your head,” Harrison explains. “And now you’ll have to do it without me there.”

“That’s kind of… fun,” I say with a nod. 

“So, you used your powers. It felt like….” He trails off, waiting for me to finish. I think back. 

“I couldn’t really control it. It was really uncertain, I didn’t know what I was doing,” I explain, my arms folded. “I didn’t even think about anything, really, it just-” The metal starts to move, out of the corner of my eye. 

“You’re remembering,” Harrison says, then grins. The metal melts into a blob, flakes of rust falling to the ground. If only it were that easy to clean rust off, I think, and hold out my hand to the metal. It starts to edge closer, and eventually wraps like a vine around my fist and arm. “What does it feel like?” He asks. 

“It’s cold,” I start, squinting. The metal feels like ice on my arm, smooth as well. “Cold and dark,” I stumble backwards and land in the sand.