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"How are you kids doing in here?" Camila asked, bumping the door of the old house open with her hips. "I brought you some sandwiches."
"Oh!" Willow burst. "I didn't realize how hungry I was!"
"I know!" Camila laughed, shifting her grip on the baking sheet that she'd stacked sandwiches on, "Ustedes niños trabajan tan duro, of course you forget to eat. But mamás never forget."
"Thank you Mrs. Camila!" Gus burst, grabbing a sandwich from the tray and immediately biting into it. Vee took the tray and brought a sandwich to Amity.
"Thank you mami," Luz beamed. Camila's heart melted to see her so happy, even if it was only for a moment. She'd been so sad since she'd gotten back, and Camila would do just about anything to see her smile.
"Oh," said Camila, "What's this?"
Luz looked confused for a moment before she followed her gaze and perked up. "Ah!" she burst, skipping over to the wall where they'd hung a corkboard and tacked up a row of drawings. "They're drawings we made of the people waiting for us to come back! We just finished." She turned back to her mother as she tapped a drawing of a woman with huge spiky hair and… some kind of chupacabra or hellhound or something. "This is King and Eda!"
"Ah, that's the famous Owl Lady?" Camila hummed. Luz had gushed quite a bit about Eda. She wasn't entirely certain how she felt about her. On one hand, the woman had taken her daughter in while she lived in a frightening faraway world and cared for her and kept her safe and fed and warm. On the other she had practically stolen her– this total stranger had helped her fourteen year old daughter run away from home. Was she safe? Did she have ulterior motives? What was her interest in her daughter?
"The most powerful witch in the Boiling Isles!" Luz cheered, throwing her arms in the air. "And the king of demons!" She held her fingers up by her head like horns. She looked so happy talking about them. Camila hoped that Eda was like her, that she'd seen a child– or six– in a strange world who needed a mother and she'd risen to the challenge.
"And who's this, then?" Camila asked, pointing at a very well drawn portrait of a man.
"That's my dad!" Gus bubbled. "He's a reporter."
"He's so handsome!" she teased, "You're such an artist, just like Luz!"
Privately, the portrait worried her. Luz had drawn Eda smiling and looking happy and powerful, and the other two drawings also featured beaming family members. Gus, however, had only drawn a headshot of his father and the man wasn't even smiling. He had a stern expression, and Camila wondered if perhaps little Gus might be harbouring something he hadn't shared. She hoped he was alright, and that she was just reading too much into it.
"And these are my dads!" Willow said, pointing at her drawing. She'd covered the page around them in hearts, and they had their arms open as if waiting for her to run into them for a hug. She could feel how much she loved her parents in her drawing. She was smiling brightly, but she must miss them terribly.
"This is my dad and my siblings," Amity said as she sat up on her knees on the couch to look behind her. "This is Emira and this is Edric. They're twins and they're older than me and they used to tease me all the time, but we've gotten really close recently. My dad, too, sort of…" Her face fell. "We were never close before and I didn't think we ever would be, but… the last time I saw him he was fighting off a bunch of abomatons so that– so that we could escape, and–" She sniffled and her eyes began to water. "And I don't know what happened to him, if he's okay, or if– if he died protecting me, or–"
She burst into tears and Luz rushed to her side to hold her, the other girl burying her face in her shirt to cry silently.
Camila's heart broke. These kids were too young to deal with everything they'd dealt with. No child should have to lose a parent.
Her eyes drifted to Luz, murmuring softly to Amity words of comfort. No. No child should have to lose a parent, indeed.
Amity sat back, wiping her eyes. She looked back up at her drawing before her face shifted and she scowled. "I didn't draw my mom. I don't miss her at all."
Camila raised her eyebrows. Well, wasn't that a loaded statement. The girl had just burst into tears, though, so she didn't think now was the time to press the issue. She'd put a pin in it for later.
Hm. It occurred to her suddenly that there were only four drawings here. She wasn't surprised that Vee hadn't drawn anyone, but…
She glanced down at the tray she'd brought. One sandwich remained.
"Where's Hunter?" she asked. "Didn't he draw his family?"
All of the children in the room froze. They cast quick, nervous glances at one another. The body language of each shifted so obviously that it was beyond apparent that something was very, very wrong, and they weren't sure they wanted to tell her what it was.
"He…" Gus started, "Hunter…"
"Doesn't know how to draw!" Luz burst, laughing a little manically. "I, uh, I'll probably help him! Later. He, uh, didn't feel like doing it right now."
Well. That was deeply concerning. "Where is Hunter? Is he okay?"
"Hunter is…" Amity swallowed.
"He's training," said Luz, "In the backyard. Have you seen him with a staff, Mami? Hunter does, like, martial arts and stuff. He's really great at them. So he's in the backyard swinging a stick around. That's all. He's fine."
The fact she had tacked on 'he's fine' at the end indicated to her that he was not, in fact, fine.
"Oh, alright," she smiled, and then picked up the tray from the table, "I'll just bring him lunch there, then."
"Oh, no, you don't have to do that!" Luz cried. "He's, um, he's in the zone, you know! He'll come in when he's ready!"
"Yeah," Willow added with a weak smile. "He's, um, fine. He's fine."
"Ah, I see," Camila said vaguely. "Alright, then. Good luck, kids! I'll see you for dinner." She smiled and they smiled nervously back, and she shut the door behind her before she beelined to her backyard.
Hunter was exactly where Luz had said he would be. He was in the yard running through complex motions with his staff, swinging it so quickly that it blurred through the air. She had no idea how he was doing that one-handed, or how he was able to let go of it and roll it across his back in the middle of a rotation to catch it in his other hand like it was nothing.
He was very good with a staff. Unusually good. Concerningly good.
She might be less worried if he didn't have a massive scar across his face that traveled all the way to his neck, barely missing his jugular. If he hadn't come into her house that first night bleeding profusely from slashes across his chest that she'd had to stitch shut. If it hadn't seemed like he barely even noticed them, as if he was so accustomed to pain that they didn't bother him at all. If those slash marks had not been framed by dozens and dozens of scars, many that were clearly years old. If she hadn't spied the switch marks on his back as he pulled his shirt on over his head.
If he didn't flinch when she moved too quickly. If he hadn't bowed to her the first night he'd been in her home.
"Hunter, cariño!" she called. "I brought you something for lunch!"
"Ah!" he cried, as he lost his grip on his staff and hit himself in the face, tripping over his own feet as he fell forward into the grass. His staff transformed back into his little bird and landed on his head, tweeting frantically.
Camila jogged over to him and dropped the tray.
"Dios mío!" she burst, leaning over him, "Are you okay?"
"'M fine," he groaned, pushing himself up to his elbows. "Ow."
"I'm so sorry, Hunter," she apologized, "I didn't mean to startle you."
"My fault," he mumbled, rubbing his face, "Wasn't paying attention. That's what I get for bad situational awareness…"
She didn't like the sound of that at all. He looked up and she saw his nose was bleeding. "Oh, no. Hunter, come inside and let me put an ice pack on that."
"On what?" he groused. She pointed at his nose and he touched it, looking at the blood on his fingers with a scowl. "Ugh. I don't need an ice pack." His bird tweeted disapprovingly and tugged on his hair. "Ow! Ow, geez, okay, fine!"
He pushed himself to his feet and she picked up the tray, following him inside with growing worry in her belly.
He sat down at the table and immediately tipped his head back without her telling him to. That didn't assuage her worries. She retrieved a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom and an ice pack from the freezer. He plugged his nose and held the ice against his face with a scowl.
"Does it hurt?" she asked.
"No," he replied immediately.
"Are you sure? We have painkillers."
"I don't need one."
She eyed him with increasing concern as he shut his eyes with a long, weary sigh. Weary beyond his years, even.
"So," she said as casually as she could, "You're so good with that staff of yours! How do you spin it so fast?"
He opened his eyes, immediately perking up. "Oh, just practice."
She laughed. "You must practice a lot!"
"Yeah," he said vaguely. "I've been practicing since I was a kid."
"Luz said you did martial arts."
He puffed with laughter and averted his gaze. "Yeah. I guess."
Camila chewed the inside of her lip. He looked a bit nervous to have her hovering around him, so she moved to make herself look busy emptying the dishwasher and moving things around in the cabinets. "The demon realm sounds so interesting. Luz has told me so much about this infamous 'Owl Lady.' Have you ever met her?"
He winced. "A few times."
That didn't bode well. She changed direction. "Willow and Gus have told me all about how much they miss playing Flyer Derby. What did you do for fun back home?"
His face fell, blank and distant. She didn't think he was going to answer, but eventually, in a quiet voice, he replied, "Nothing."
At first she wasn't sure that she'd heard him correctly. Then she wasn't sure she understood. Then she worried she did understand. "What do you mean?"
He tipped his head forward and unplugged his nose, wrinkling it as he touched his cupid's bow with his fingertips. "Oh, hey, I think it stopped bleeding." He pulled the ice pack away and blinked a few times.
Her heart sank. She knew he didn't trust her. She didn't want to push him too far and prove that he shouldn't. "Ah, good, let's try to keep your blood inside you where it belongs, eh?"
"Pssh," he said in a tone that indicated he was trying to be playful, "That's nothing. You can lose way more blood than that before it matters."
She went still and silent, probably for too long because he turned to her, expression confused and then concerned as he seemed to conclude he'd said something strange.
"Well, um," he coughed, standing up, "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Noceda, but I'm just going to get back to training now."
"No!" she burst. He froze, eyes wide like a deer in crosshairs. "Haha, I mean, um, no, look, I made you lunch, remember? You're a growing boy, cariño, and with a workout like that you need to stay fueled!"
He looked down at the sandwich dubiously, then back at the door, then, with only some trepidation, sat back down. He picked up the sandwich and took a bite.
"This is really good, Mrs. Noceda," he said politely, "Thank you."
"No problem, Hunter," she smiled. "It's just nice to see you eat something."
He looked a little nervous and she wondered if she'd strayed too close to a touchy subject again. Mark that one down on the Hunter Gets Anxious list: food.
"I'm, um…" He swallowed. "I'm grateful to you for letting us stay in your home and for feeding us. It's very generous of you."
"Of course, cariño, how could I ever turn away a bunch of homeless children? You all need someone to take care of you and it's adults jobs to take care of kids who need taking care of."
His lips twitched and his nose wrinkled. He stared stubbornly at the table. "I guess."
Anger and anxiety were different emotions. She could work with anger.
"You don't think so?" Camila probed.
His lip twitched again toward a scowl. He didn't blink. "I think so," he said, "But not everyone does."
She closed the dishwasher. "Like who?"
He looked up as if his own thoughts had startled him and shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. You don't need to worry about it."
"Well," she said carefully, "Have you considered that… maybe I want to worry about it?"
He frowned as he looked up at her. "What do you mean?"
"Like I said, it's an adult's job to take care of kids. There's more than one way to be hurt, mijo. There's your body," she said, pointing at the ice pack, "And your heart." She pointed at his chest.
He looked down at where she was pointing as if a laser sight had appeared there. His ears flattened. "Uh… well. Your heart is part of your body?" he said as he looked up at her uncertainly and she realized with a start that he genuinely did not understand what she was talking about.
"I mean your feelings, baby," she explained.
"Oh."
"It usually helps to talk about," she tried.
He gave her a dubious expression. "Any time I talk about anything everyone gets either sad, angry, or scared. Then they try to lecture me to make sure that I know something that was messed up was messed up, and then they get all upset, and then they all talk about it when they think I can't hear them." He scowled. "I made Willow cry once just trying to make a joke."
She raised her eyebrows. "Well… Willow is a kid like you are, Hunter." His expression didn't change. "I'm not, I mean. You can tell me things."
"You can't handle it," he dismissed.
"I can handle anything you can tell me," she insisted.
He looked at her suspiciously, clearly sizing her up. After a long moment he finally spoke, watching her like one might a predator that they didn't think had noticed them yet.
"My uncle tried to murder me," he said calmly.
Camila kept her expression and body language neutral. She held still. She didn't show him how horrified and grief-stricken she was by his words.
"That sounds… very traumatic," said Camila. "I see why Willow was so upset."
"Oh, I didn't have to tell her that," he said, clearly challenging her, "She was there for that. You know, one of the times he tried."
"That… that's…" Her voice was shaking, she could hear it. She needed to stay cool. He was testing her and she couldn't fail. She didn't think she would get a second chance if she did. "Did you know him well?"
"He raised me," Hunter pressed, "He's the only family I have, since he murdered the rest of them and I never got to meet them."
The words dried up in her throat.
"My uncle was Emperor Belos," he continued, and she could hear the anger really broiling within him in his voice. "He laughed the first time he tried to murder me. He laughed. It was funny to him."
"I…" she said weakly.
"He gave me this," he said, pointing at his scar, "And I said 'thank you' because he taught me to. It's not the only one he gave me."
Her eyes were burning. Her breath was shaky. She knew she must look as horrified as she was.
"He hurt me, Mrs. Noceda," he continued, "and he liked it."
A tiny noise escaped her lips.
He stared at her, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, before he finally huffed air through his nose and turned away to bite into his sandwich, body language shutting down and closing off.
"I told you that you couldn't handle it," he mumbled between bites.
"Hunter, I– I–" she stammered. "Th– that's, I–"
"Don't worry about it," he sighed, his anger fading into a deadly quiet. "It's fine. I'm used to that."
"I'm sorry," she said, "I don't want you to regret telling me, Hunter. I– I wasn't expecting that, but– you are… you have been…" She swallowed. "That is so much, mijo."
"Yeah," he murmured, "I know."
Camila took a deep breath and then sat down at the table beside him, carding her hands together.
"Okay," she said slowly, "You're right. That's more than I was… braced for. But not more than I can handle. You… should not have to handle all of that alone. None of you kids should have to handle everything that's happened to you alone."
"Like I said," he mumbled as he looked away, "Not everyone agrees."
Camila bit her lip. "Not everybody doesn't agree, though."
He frowned.
"I mean I'm not one of those people that doesn't agree," she elaborated. "I mean that I think you should not have gone through so much and that you should be allowed to talk about it."
"Mm," he hummed without much confidence. "It's too much, though. I say stuff and then you all look at me like that."
"It's upsetting to know that something terrible happened to someone you care about," she said gently, "But that doesn't mean it's too much. You know, the weight is lighter when you carry it together."
He stared at his hands. He was silent for a long time.
"Maybe," he said eventually.
"I'll take a maybe," Camila said gently. "And even a maybe later, too. How about right now we worry about something easier to fix, huh?"
He turned to look up at her expectantly.
"Still hungry?" she asked.
He opened his mouth to answer before his stomach growled and he snapped it shut. His face flushed bright red.
"I thought so," she laughed. "All that exercise, you must work up such an appetite! Now, what do you want? And none of that 'I don't want to be a burden' talk, mister!"
"I, well… I… Ow!" he yelped as his bird tugged at his hair again. "Alright, alright! Geez. Um… do you have any more mac-and-cheese? It was good."
"Mac'n cheese!" Camila burst as she opened the cabinets. "Of course I do. Come over here and pick out your favourite, Luz always insists on buying shapes."
Hesitantly, he smiled and stood up.
Later that night, when she was sure they were all asleep, she crept out to her car, sat in the driver's seat, and sobbed her eyes out.