Her nightmares were getting worse.

When Nolan rented rooms in the dilapidated towns they stopped in, he would always get separate ones. Not only so he could have his fun with the local women, but because it was, well, creepy for an adult human man to book a room with a young alien girl and he had had about enough with the disapproving looks.

And this system would have worked out fine if not for the raucous Irisa caused when she had a nightmare. She would cry out in her sleep, disturbing several guests at whatever inn they were staying at, claw at her head, and thrash about. More than once, Nolan was awakened from his room by the innkeeper and told to "shut her up or leave."

And so he spent countless hours in her room, kneeling by her bed and holding her hand. He was there when she couldn't possibly go back to sleep, even though his own body was telling him to give into exhaustion. He could see her unspoken apology. And on nights like those his heart ached.

After one particularly bad night, the pair had been forced to leave the inn in the very early morning. The surrounding town was dead silent, and a few rays of summer sunlight managed to pierce the thick mist. They walked together, his eyes focused ahead, trying to remember where he had parked the rolled. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze on the ground. Irisa was quiet, even for her. The night before, a man in the tavern had called undue attention to the scars on her wrists, something the girl had grown sensitive to.

"You should really keep those covered," the man sitting next to her at the bar table had said when her sleeve rode up as she picked at her food. Nolan jerked his head up to glare at him, but the guy didn't take the hint. Irisa pulled her hands back and hid them in her lap, but the man didn't stop.

"It's impolite to show scars like that. You shouldn't be proud of them. No one needs to see that."

Nolan could see the anger and shame building in the girl, her hands forming into fists. He stood from his stool and walked directly to the man, his presence intimidating. "Not one more word to her," he breathed, placing a firm hand on the place where his shoulder met his neck. "Or we're going to have an issue."

The man had gotten up and left not twenty seconds later, but the damage had been done. That night she had picked her wrists raw in her sleep and stained the clean white sheets red, and screamed so loud other guests complained. The owner of the piece of shtako inn was furious and kicked them out in an instant.

As they neared the roller, which had been packed the previous day, Nolan grew more worried. She still hadn't said a word, and hadn't even let him look at her wrists. He didn't want to cross the badlands with her heart so low. She could be downright depressing.

He veered left, into a forest trail. She looked up questioningly, but followed him anyway. He marveled at the incredible amount of trust she placed in him, a year after her rescue. They walked along the trail; watching the sun rise quickly and the feeling the air get much warmer.

The trail opened up to a gorge, a large creek rushing by in front of them. Irisa stared into the water, and Nolan grinned. He stripped off his shoes and socks, hiked up his trousers to the knee, and stepped into the cold, clear water. The Irathient girl watched him, her hands still tucked away. He held out his own to her, big stupid grin still glued to his face.

Hesitantly, she removed her own boots and grasped his outstretched hand before stepping into the water. He ignored the raw skin on her wrists for the moment; he'd take care of that later.

The rocks beneath them were coated in algae, which made them extremely slippery. Even Nolan was having trouble staying upright. He began to talk to her, telling her a story about his world, the world before, when he and his brothers had made a rope swing that dropped them off a small cliff into a lake. He caught the flicker of a smile on her face. They made their way down the gorge, taking the routes where the water never rose above her calves.

When he finished his story, they fell back into silence. This silence, however, indicated a much lighter mood, like a weight had been lifted.

Irisa took a confident step on the rocks and her feet gave out under her. Nolan gripped her hand firmly and placed the other at her back to steady her. "Easy now," he said.

Irisa sighed heavily. "I'm sorry I got us kicked out," she blurted out.

Nolan looked down at her. "It's not your fault."

"Yes, it is," she said angrily. "I'm just more trouble for you. You could have left me with the cult. You could have left me at the refugee camp. You could have dropped me off somewhere in the badlands. And you never did. Why?"

It was shocking, to hear a child her age speak so articulately, and at first, he didn't know what to say. He led her back to the shore and sat in the dirt, motioning her to sit beside him. He looked directly into her eyes—he wanted to make damn sure she heard his next words.

"You are the only family I have known in a decade. Irisa, I will never, ever abandon you. I've come to think of you as a daughter. I don't know if I have any right to, and I don't know how you feel about that, given your… history. But you are welcome with me for as long as you need. You're my little girl."

She leaned into him and he placed his arm around her. He could feel her shoulders shake as she cried.

The next time he signed them into an inn, he put her name down as Irisa Nolan.