“Does someone have nasty dreams? Poor Twelve, trying to be so tough when really she’s such a delicate flower.”

His laughter was high and forced. Twelve gritted her teeth, backing away from the door until she felt straw under her feet. She sat down slowly, leaning against the back wall and keeping her eyes on the glow behind the bars. Widge flowed down into her lap so she could stroke him, the repetitive motion soothing for them both.

Her thoughts turned to Silver; she wanted to feel anger toward the Elder, but instead she only felt ashamed that she’d let her down . . . again. The same went for Seven—she should have waited for her after battle class. Seven would have done at least that much for her. If Twelve had waited, she wouldn’t have heard what Five said, and she wouldn’t be in this mess. She hunched her shoulders miserably and tried to turn her thoughts onto safer tracks.

It felt like hours later when she was startled out of her reverie by the sound of someone approaching.

“Hello?” Five’s whisper in the dark was painfully hopeful.

Footsteps pattered to the bottom of the staircase and along the passage, past Five and on to Twelve’s cell. Briefly, a small, hooded figure was silhouetted against the bars and a glass of pale dream milk was set between them. Next to it, the visitor carefully placed a small package before once again slipping away.

Widge sprang from Twelve’s lap toward the door, nose twitching hopefully.

“Thanks!” she called, scrambling eagerly to her feet. Usually, she didn’t welcome conversation, but tonight might have been the exception. The figure hurried away though, footsteps vanishing back into the darkness.

She grabbed the glass of dream milk eagerly, hoping it would quell her roaring hunger. In her haste, she knocked the package beside it. It fell out of reach with a heavy thud and Twelve groaned, belatedly realizing it might be food.

Cursing her clumsiness, Twelve carried the dream milk carefully to the back of her cell and sat down again, Widge following closely. She pushed him away gently.

“You’ve still got nuts to eat,” she said, prodding his stuffed cheeks. “And you don’t need this stuff anyway.” He stared at her, first surprised, then delighted. A moment later, there was a nut in his paws and he was nibbling happily.

She wanted to savor the milk, but ended up gulping it. Its soothing herbal taste was a balm to her hunger and fear. Immediately, she felt calmer, the darkness seemed to recede, and her breath came more easily. A pleasant warmth spread through her frozen limbs and her eyelids drooped. Widge climbed onto her chest and Twelve gave in to sleep willingly.