A soft knock on the door stirred me from my contemplations. Galina peeped her head in.

“Is he still alive?” she asked timidly.

“Still alive,” I confirmed, glancing over at Mikhail.

She edged into the room, shyly cradling her arms around herself. Her chestnut hair hung over her face. Someday Papa would carve her a mask of her own, but for now, there was still enough left of her that a ghost of her original features remained. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” I had to bite my inner cheek to keep myself from smiling, remembering how flustered Galina had been when she’d found me all those years ago. She had refused to leave my side for days, even waking me in the night to make sure I was still breathing.

Back then, I had quickly warmed to Galina. She became my best friend, and we spent countless hours exploring the forest together. Over the years, as I grew older and she remained the same, our roles had changed. Now, I felt a soft, sisterly affection toward her, and those days we were equal might as well have been a second lifetime ago.

“When will he wake up?” Galina asked as I folded his mended coat and put it on the dresser.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Does he sleep as long as you do?”

I laughed. “I imagine.”

She groaned. “But that’s hours.”

“It’s important that he gets his rest. He needs to recover.”

“Can I help? I want to help him.”

“We just have to wait, Galechka. There’s nothing we can do.”

She edged toward Mikhail’s bed, her fingers plucking anxiously at her patched skirt. “Please?”

I sighed, picking his shirt off the floor. There were still some holes left to repair. I held it out to her. “Why don’t you—”

Suddenly, Mikhail pushed back the blanket and lurched into a sitting position, the bed frame shuddering from his violent motion. His whole body trembled, chest rising and falling in urgent gasps.

“Aleksey?” His gaze darted around the room before landing on Galina, who stepped toward him with a little coo of excitement.

I rose to my feet, dropping the shirt. “Galina, wait—”

As she neared Mikhail’s bedside, he shied away with a low cry. His feet tangled in the blankets and furs, and he fell over the side of the bed, landing on his hands and knees.

“Stay back!” Eyes blazing with terror, Mikhail lurched against the bed frame. He raised a hand to ward her off. “Get away from me!”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, rushing to Mikhail’s side to calm him. “You’re safe. Stop moving. You’re going to reopen your wound.”

“What is that thing?” he demanded, looking past me.

My shock gave way to anger. “How dare you. That’s my sister, Galina, and she’s not a thing.”

“Your sister?”

“She’s an upyr and she won’t hurt you.”

“Upyri eat people!”

“Not my family.” I took a deep breath, calming myself. After spending so many years in isolation, I had almost forgotten that living humans feared the undead. “Don’t be afraid, you’re safe here.”