“It worked,” Wallis said, flopping onto her bed. “The whole unwell patient act. They bought it.” She tossed a balled-up sock at the laundry bag. “But the Nevas… they said it moved during the scan. Violently, apparently. All on its own, even though I was just pretending.”

  “As I predicted,” Rono’s voice emanated from the doorway. He remained a tall and wide obsidian silhouette against the hallway light. “It responds to perceived threats, not just actual ones. Your performance must’ve been convincing.”

  “Too convincing. They wanted to scan me again, but I wasn’t sure I could fool them—or it—twice.” She sat up. “They wanted to take my blood, so I played ill. Told them they’d taken too much blood and I was about to keel over. One of them actually panicked and grabbed juice boxes,” Wallis chuckled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh, that was embarrassing.”

  She stood and walked to her closet. “At the end, they asked if anything had changed since the last visit, and I said no, just like you wanted, because heaven forbid I go off-script and upset the goo overlord.” Wallis shot Rono a sneer over her shoulder.

  She opened the closet, shoving aside old clothes to reveal a hidden shelf. She carefully sat on her knees and pulled out the new pyjamas her mother had bought her.

  “Your discretion is appreciated,” Rono said. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to take a bath,” Wallis replied, walking out of her room with the clothes in hand.

  “I suggest you wait until later today,” he said. “You’ll be learning how to run.”

  “Today?” she paused and scratched her head. “We’re already starting? Guardian business?”

  “Yes.”

  “I definitely won’t regret learning how to run, but not today at least.”

  “You will require that skill very soon, and for the rest of your life. Now, go and change into something flexible.”

  Wallis tapped her foot a couple of times and huffed, muttering something under her breath before walking back to her room. “Where am I going to run?”

  “In a cave,” said Rono, and Wallis stumbled.

  “A cave?! Monsters hide in caves!”

  “Correct, but not this one. Go change.”

  “Absurd… utterly absurd.” Wallis unceremoniously tossed the pyjamas onto her bed and swung open the closet doors again, grabbing a new indigo tracksuit. Her mother hadn’t bought her any winter clothes since it wasn’t the season, so she chose between the two sweaters her brother had given her: a gray one with delicate blue patterns, or the brown one she’d worn that morning and was still wearing. She decided the brown wouldn’t clash with the indigo tracksuit.

  Dressed, she crept to the front door, scanning for her new black running shoes.

  ‘Everything needs to go in my room from now on.’

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Her ears strained for any sound before she put the shoes on. Rosaline was supposed to be at work again after driving her home. Wismel should be in his room, buried in university textbooks. She couldn't risk them seeing her in these clothes; she wasn’t allowed out of the house yet. Now, her only real worry was Wismel.

  Just as she stood up, her fear materialized. “Wallis, where’s my stick?”

  It was Wismel, right there in the hall. Panic jolted through her. Her only path was back to her room, but Rono’s hulking form blocked the most direct route. She didn’t think; bolting. As she tried to swerve around Rono, her feet tangled. Instead of crashing, she threw herself sideways, tucking into a silent, graceless roll that absorbed the impact across her body. Wismel’s head snapped toward the faint scuffling sound, but Wallis was already crawling, scrambling on all fours into the safety of her room.

  “Couldn’t you have helped?!” Wallis hissed from the floor, rolling to the side, away from the open doorframe.

  “Unnecessary. He did not see you,” Rono said calmly. “Shall we?”

  Wismel appeared in the hallway, giving Rono’s hulking figure a wide, nervous berth as he approached her room. Wallis launched herself onto the bed, pulled the blanket over her and snatched her phone, pretending to scroll.

  “Uh…” Wismel hesitated, his brown eyes flicking from Wallis to the silent giant in the hall. “Wallis, have you seen my stick?”

  “Nope,” she said, trying to keep her breathing even. “Haven’t touched it.”

  “It’s been missing since this morning. It’s not in the bathroom, not in the bin…”

  “I have only used mine. Sorry.”

  Wismel sighed, defeated, and backed away slowly, never turning his back on Rono.

  Wallis breathed as she dropped her head on the pillow. “If he ever gets suspicious, know it is your fault because you’re the one who’s picking the immaculate timings for those outings.”

  “Would you prefer to train at night? It is an option, though the resulting sleep deprivation would hinder your progress.”

  She sat up. “No, you have a point.” She swung her legs off the bed. “I’m already dressed, so let’s just go before he comes back with another domestic mystery.”

  “Wait here,” Rono said. His form broke apart into a swarm of countless black particles that winked out of existence, leaving only empty air. Wallis' stomach churned with the familiar, awful anticipation.

  She took one last look around her warm, safe room. And at the window, debating whether to call out for help like last time. Then, her head grew heavy, the way it does when one stands up too fast. The sensation intensified, her thoughts fuzzing at the edges. A disorienting lightness followed, and then, pressure. Crushing, immense pressure from all sides, as if the world were squeezing her into a single point.

  Her body reasserted itself with a violent lurch. She was falling.

  She slammed into an uneven, gray rock surface. Pain exploded in her arm and the sound of tearing fabric ripped through the air. “Ouch!”

  Wallis landed in a heap, the impact jarring her to the bone. Before she could even process the fall, Rono solidified beside her, utterly unscathed. “Stand up.”

  She ignored him, cradling her arm. “Oh, I’m cut!” she gasped, pushing herself into a sitting position. A clean, deep gash ran along a small part of her upper arm, welling with crimson blood. She looked at the matching slice in the sleeve of her brand-new jacket, her eyebrow twitching. First wear, it was.

  Her nostrils flared. “How am I supposed to learn to run if just arriving rips my skin open?” She glared from her bleeding arm to her impassive companion.

  “This is also part of the lesson,” Rono said, his voice devoid of any sympathy. “I need to observe how your body’s unique properties handle trauma and foreign particulate matter. I am also interested in your unaided healing factor. Two birds with one stone, if I may say.”

  “No,” Wallis snarled, dabbing at the wound with a clean part of her ruined sleeve. “You may not!”