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  Yes! I don’t want to go. Listen to Freckles.

  Isaac is jerking, desperate, eyes faraway as they’d once been on the staircase, voice raising, looking for an argument. Last time I’d seen him like this, I’d end up with a clenched fist over his unconscious body.

  Why would he even be this jealous of my divided attention? He’d left me. He didn’t even bid me farewell – Just like you didn’t bid Thomas farewell, Ives. I push my internal monologue down to focus on Isaac, as he evidently would prefer. Had he always been this jealous? Was this a function of missing me? Was this a function of wanting me gone?

  Part of me wishes he would out me – tell them that I was his sibling, take his stories to new heights – because at least then he’d be able to spit honest feelings towards my form.

  “Well she dun’ look like no shadow, aither!”

  “She moves like one, though.” I pause to consider Screech’s statement – Do I? Do I really move like one? – and in my brief contemplation, almost miss the ensuing argument.

  “She moves like a wolf!” Really? I didn’t know how to –

  “She moves like a shadow!”

  “Well, don’t matter, her’n name’s Ivory.” According to what Thomas told us, that is –

  “Her name’s Shadow.”

  “You cain’t just rename her!”

  “I renamed your girlfriend, and look where it got me!” Freckles is no one’s girlfriend –

  “Girlfriend? Ne’er in a million years, buddy.” What? You were the one blearily in love with her the moment you saw her? What are you talking about? Are you forgetting yet again everything about you only to – ? “But s’okay – I’ve seen that look in yar eyes.” Isaac!

  “I’m eight!” Exactly!

  “Yeah, but it don’t mean she’s a bad looker.” You’re kidding me, right? You’re jealous of me, you’re jealous of Screech, you’re jealous of any attention that isn’t clearly and decidedly on you all the –

  “Hey!” It’s Freckles that finally speaks up, and all fall silent as she edges between us, physically breaking up the conversation as much as verbally. “Stop it.” Her voice is harsh, jagged, and when she turns to me, something in her eyes alerts me to the fact that she is beginning to question the amount of intelligence I own, and whether it amounts to a man’s – so, instantaneously, I begin to wag my tail and look between Screech and Isaac, as if oblivious to the conversation. She lets my eye contact go and continues with the reason she interrupted them in the first place. “Stop it. There’s no need to argue what her name is.” She steps forward, once again, begins to brush my hair with her fingers with a touch natural and gentle as though she reaches out to all, and though I normally shiver at contact, I push into her hand. “It doesn’t really matter, okay?”

  The argument dies in the air but not in their throats – I can feel it still in Screech’s, can feel how taut the silence is. The group stands, unmoving, on the black staircase, painted against the gray day (or perhaps red to them, for my colors are no longer so complete).

  Screech’s pain calls to me, a siren, a beckon, as well it should – I am here to alleviate it, after all – and I consider only a minute before I move towards him. Toes on the edge of the stair, half of my weight hanging to where safety is not, dancing and gliding over the ledge. I nudge at Screech.

  The weight dissipates in the air as Screech focuses down on me. I feel something untense, deep in me, something I had not known had always been tightened, closed, clenched.

  And the journey begins again.

  They walk – we walk – charges and Moderators, a group for the very first time, all on the same plane. I pad behind Screech, search for more caresses that will alert me to his feelings. He gives them only sparingly. I accept what he gives me, pushes for no more. I understand, after all. I would not want a creature attached to my hip, either.

  So I begin to take advantage of all of my limbs, instead, and tiptoe and dance on the edges of the staircase, making my rounds from person to person, and sniffing them in hopes of affection. Whether they offer it or not is inconsequential. I am a line. I am a piece. I am a part of a story that, before, had not even had my name.

  Not even Isaac’s swat away can ruin the inner peace just discovered.

  I am finally on the side I have been watching.

  I am finally part of the story.

  For the very first time, I... finally... feel real.

  twenty-five

  I do not understand how earlier today, I had inner peace.

  I do not understand how my mind was unworried, content.

  When I had come over here, I’d had a mission, a sure-set idea in my mind on what to do and how to do it.

  And now... there is nothing but rapidly regenerating anger.

  I’m barking, currently. Loudly. My voice is echoing over the soot staircase, and my body is stiff enough to portray readiness to fight.

  It is because I’ve seen one of my enemies, with clear red eyes:

  the water.

  It’s in a waterskin, one that I’ve never seen before, the size of Isaac’s head. I watched with careful eyes to see how the group would react. Freckles drank it hungrily, but Screech refused to. So used to watching was I, that I almost forgot I am now in this story... I can now intervene.

  And so, I bark. I bark at Todd who wields water that will easily kill and maim all those around us.

  Freckles released a single question in response to Screech telling her that the water could ‘make her worse’, before looking away, eyes going glassy, body going still. She doesn’t seem responsive to anyone or anything, even my barking.

  “Quiet, you!” Isaac rises and begins to come towards me, but I hold my ground, ready to tear into the flesh of my sibling. “Shuddup! Ye’re botherin’ everyone!”

  Screech only rises and pushes Todd aside slightly, in order to get in front of me. I’m silently grateful about the slight widening of the staircase as I continue howling.

  “Only person bothering anything around here is you.”

  I bark in agreement, and Isaac glances towards me, looks somewhat betrayed.

  “No! I’m only doin’ what’s right. Ya’w’ll see. Ya’w’ll.”

  He turns back to Freckles, who seems unfocused, lost in this universe – just as harmlessly lost as Isaac had first been. He nudges her, murmurs for her to follow, and her consent and rising comes slow, with dips and falls in every unsure step. I try to remember she is not my charge, and I cannot be emotionally invested, every time she slips near a dizzying edge.

  Isaac has a plan, however. He bends down next to her, on his knees, back to her. She sees him crouched and wraps her arms around him, emitting something that could only be defined as a giggle. When he rises, his arms link at her knees, and she giggles out a quiet, “Wee!”

  Both Screech and I are watching in confusion. Very precariously, Isaac walks past us and to the front, swaying under the weight of both his body and another.

  And here we are alone – my charge and I, staring at the back of Freckles atop of Isaac. Face marred by dust and pain, a startling loneliness in his soul that I can sense even without his hand against me, the abandonment of his only companion up till now gnawing at some part inside of him.

  I understand that ache. Ironically, it had been offered to me by the person dragging her away from him now. So I lick his scarred hand to offer consolation, and he pats me back, silent but somehow still thankful.

  The confusions and losses of Freckles only seem to wear on. Isaac touches her, and she recoils – but a swig later, and she’s lying on top of him, running fingers through his hair. Both Screech and I attempt to intervene multiple times, but tall, witty Isaac throws the water at us, or shoves us precariously close to the edge. More than once, I caught Screech’s pant leg with my teeth to pull him to safety. It comes to the point that when Isaac pauses and indulges in a drink with Freckles, the two of us watch with bated breath.

  I’m not supposed to intervene, after all. N
ot with Freckles.

  Besides, what even would I do? Attack Isaac? Regardless of his distrust of him, I cannot imagine Screech seeing me in a positive light were I to grow violent. And what would happen to Freckles then? The two of them may be the one casting me away from their family.

  I need time – I need space – to know, to think, but now that I am here, I have none of it.

  It seems clear to all that Freckles is slowly losing her mind, in what I can grasp when I’m not focused on the attention Screech gives me. Questions she knew the answer to are suddenly unanswerable by her – and she seems to be getting gradually more and more comfortable around Isaac. It’s only the third or fourth day, but the amount of water she drinks is seriously unsettling to me. I contemplate it at night, nestled next to Screech, his head against me as a pillow, my mind racing on my other charge, occasionally forgetting to enjoy the pressure of the one I still have.

  Perhaps the worst comes in an argument. Freckles starts off questioning whether or not we need a sun – I am thinking it over in my head, as well. Isaac is attempting to coddle and belittle her – and after he pats her on the head, something new happens.

  She collapses to the ground, as if by the pressure alone, something in her had suddenly shut off and disappeared.

  Screech and I both step forward, but Isaac catches her first. For the moment, the silent animosity that had been brewing between the three of us fades to something else.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” Screech cries.

  “Dun’ know,” Isaac grunts.

  “It must have been all that water you’re giving her. You need to stop. You’re going to kill – ”

  It’s at that moment that she sits up, wide-eyed and awake. Noticing Isaac on the ground next to her, arms fastened around her, she begins to scream and thrash.

  “Stop! Stop! Let me go! Let me go!”

  But he only tightens his grip around her.

  “Are you deaf?” Screech’s voice is none too kind, moving in front of me, towards the pair of them. “Let her go!”

  “‘Nd let her through herself off tha staircase? Dun’ be stupid.”

  His harsh statement is something neither Screech nor I can fight. So we watch, allowing Freckles, once again, to fend for herself in a world where she was supposed to have the most companions, the most people on her side.

  “Give me one reason!” she’s shouting. “One reason why I should stay with you!”

  I feel the shock that registers on Screech’s face hit me just as hard. As though she had been continuing a conversation none of us heard – as though she had been fighting a battle none of us had fully seen or appreciated. Screech and I hold our breaths together, until our lungs burn as much as the words did. We watch the pair of them, motionless as though we are both Moderators and cannot pry them apart, a mess of the same colors of limbs and hair.

  Isaac leans in and whispers a sentence, something even my sharp ears cannot hear. When he pulls away, Freckles is giggling and half-awake. Her last murmur is, “I know,” before she falls again, goes dead in his hands.

  Isaac smiles at her, but does not say anything. Screech and I lean into each other, as though stranded and seeking warmth in a land leeched of it.

  “What did you say?” He sounds braver than even I may have, and I am proud of him.

  My twin smiles vaguely as he brushes his thumb against Freckles’ face, leans in close to her. Lips press where her hair meets her forehead, and his light eyes jump up to meet mine as he does so, as if waiting to see some reaction.

  Whatever he sees on his face pleases him, because he laughs when he says, “The truth.”

  twenty-six

  I am getting sicker.

  I do not know when it started, but I can feel it, now, with every inch of my being.

  It is as if I drank the water too, in the same multitude that Freckles did, and I am dying as well.

  It is as if I’ve aged rapidly – in small span of days I’ve been forced years.

  I am exhausted without even moving. Dead before I awake.

  I am sick, and I do not know why.

  The plain we’ve stopped on is long, empty. The size of hundreds of fields lined up together. It’s about the same as Madame Veneera’s field, only – the staircase still exists, standing against the light sky. I know because it is my job to trot beside Screech’s every movement, follow him to each and every end. Every limb in my body protests the slight movement. I feel dizzied, lost, lethargic. He seems to be picking up on this, no matter how well I mask it, because every now and again, I notice him slowing down his pace, coming back to where I am, rubbing my head encouragingly.

  We arrive to where Freckles and Isaac are. She’s relaxed against him, and he’s speaking to her as he traces her arms, up and down, up and down.

  “Hey, Freck.” Screech is attempting to be bright, despite the situation, despite what’s been happening. His figure shifts restlessly from ramrod straight to relaxed. “Seems we’re alone this time. No Madame Veneera or anything.”

  I sink to the floor with Screech and watch Freckles’ expression, from how low I am on the ground, harden into confusion. “Uh... yeah,” she finally replies, looking at Isaac for confirmation, which he assists with in a nod. “That’s good, I guess.”

  My eyes move to Screech, my sickly body not even stirring during this exchange. “What is it, Freckles?”

  I notice Freckles turn to Isaac and mouth something, but I cannot see what it is from where I am lying. Everything feels grayer, in exhaustion. Further away. Maybe if I sleep... I will see it in my dreams.

  They begin whispering, which only unsettles Screech more, spikes a restless worry in him. A suspicious gleam is in Isaac’s eyes. Happy. Perhaps if the nails of lethargy weren’t scratching gaping holes into my back, I’d feel afraid.

  “Hey, um... Screech?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I want a word.” She gets up, teetering and tottering, and I go to wake my tired bones up and follow. But Screech shakes his head, shakes me back down, and grateful, I sink into the soot beneath me.

  I’m beginning to feel the weariness seemingly eat behind my eyes and into my brain. I’m just about to close my eyes and perhaps permit myself a moment of rest, when I feel Isaac’s hand searching through my ears. The touch of his fingertips is very distinctive – without even opening my eyes, I begin to growl.

  “Oh, come on, Ives. We’re family, aren’t we?”

  I nip at his fingers, slightly, in no way playful.

  “Family sticks together. Family beats the odds. Family is – well – family.”

  I am still none impressed. I bite at him again.

  “Why aren’t you happy for me? I’ve found my new home. I found what I need to stay alive. I’m happy.”

  I wrench my eyes open to see him, sitting across from me, in dimmed colors. His face is somewhat passive, but the anger deep within me doesn’t relent. Too much has happened. Too much time. Too much distance. Too much loneliness. My bark is clipped, unimpressed.

  “I thought you’d understand, now that you’re here, too. Now that you’re like me.”

  I’ll never be like you, Isaac. I open my eyes so they can tell him that.

  “I came here to help her, too.”

  Then why are you hurting her?

  “I – I am helping her!” Voice pitched as though not just trying to prove to me. As though attempting, as well, to prove it to him. “You just don’t get it yet. You always were slow.”

  Anger tightens my chest and passes through without the energy to hold or express it – I huff my sigh, close my eyes, search for peace in a world of the peaceless. The rest only helps slightly, for I can still hear and feel my heart ringing in my ears, but at least I do not have to focus on anything else, at least I do not have to put up a front that I cannot fully support in this state.

  Isaac’s hand has released me. Alone with my brother again, and there is only lethargy and laconism. Far from us, another conversation wages
in its war. A battle that bites and breaks and shatters. When Screech calls for me, his voice wavers.

  I move as though waking from a dream, slowly and as though I must drag each limb into the world of consciousness before running, and walk slowly from Isaac. As I retreat, I catch him mutter a sentence I am not sure I was meant to hear at all.

  “I just wish you could be happy for me. I just wish someone was.”

  twenty-seven

  I expected this.

  I expected their splitting, because of my brother, my brother who no longer deserves to be known as that, known as anything more than Todd.

  I’d expected Screech to walk away, the weight on his shoulders, breathing somewhat brokenly as he attempts to regain his mind.

  I’d expected every moment of this.

  Still... I wanted to hear it from Screech’s mouth.

  I force every footstep of mine. They’re no longer light, playful, dancing. They’re limping. Cringing as if I’m stepping over glass. Screech notices, but does not comment – I suppose because he does not believe he has any to comment to.

  I press my nose to his palm, expectantly.

  “What?” Screech isn’t even looking at me. “I don’t have... well, anything.”

  I repeat my action.

  “Quit it.” He hits me away, glowers at the sky, which I can only imagine the true hues of. “Leave me alone.”

  One more time – this time, more tentatively, as if unsure my tiny provocations will injure him.

  He sighs, does not look at me – finds a mark in the horizon to settle on. “What do you want?”

  I lick at his fingers between my desperate attempts to breathe.

  “She – she doesn’t want me anymore. That’s why we’re out here, without her. She doesn’t want me.”

  I listen to him, silently. I allow him to blow off the steam that he obviously needs to.

  “She said she did – said she wanted me.” The young voice seems to be clogged with some sort of emotion. Eyes fall away from him. His scarred back begins to shiver as though wind blew at him. “She said... that it was just the two of us, and the staircase.”