CAMILO

Intense morning sunlight beams down, right on my face, the second I push through my flimsy tent flap. I blink blearily and shield my squinting eyes from its brightness, letting out a swift and relaxing, ear-popping yawn.

Al's rebuilding our campfire from the night before, tossing some dried, mangled branches into its center, under our portable kitchen set. Meanwhile, Bruno's checking in our donkey.

"Morning," I greet Al, walking up to him while stretching my arms over my head.

"Morning," he says back without glimpsing up at me for more than a second.

I glimpse around the rest of the camp, my confusion mounting. "Is Sofia not up yet?"

"Nope. Want to go wake her up? We need her help to start with breakfast."

"Sure." I smile.

Energy builds up inside me at the suggestion, but I take a quick breath to retain my composure. Can't let him see me get too excited. Otherwise, the possible fun might be spoiled.

With a bounce in my step, I walk over to the twins' tent, opting to wait a moment to listen for any movement. Hearing none, I peek inside. Sofia's still curled up in her bedroll, lying on her side, facing away from me. Only the top part of her dark waves peak out from under her covers.

Another grin sneaks up on me. My heart flutters, increasing with the thrill.

"Rise and shine, mi luz!" I strut on over and lie opposite her.

She squints open her eyes, and I push some stray, messy hairs out of her face.

"Did you have sweet dreams about me? Hm?" I poke her teasingly in the cheek.

Sofia rubs a hand across her eyelids then stares at me. "Mmm. What time is it?" she asks, voice low and still hoarse from sleep.

"Probably around eight, I think?" I shrug.

I've never been really good at guessing the time without a clock handy. Though, I think I've gotten a little better since leaving the Encanto.

Sofia grumbles and shifts onto her back, closing her eyes again. She pants there. A grimace knits between her eyebrows.

It's at this moment I notice her cheeks seem a bit pink, and she's sweating.

"Hey, you don't look so good." I reach a hand out to stroke her cheekbone.

Her skin's hot to the touch.

Like . . . fiery hot.

Too hot.

A lot hotter than normal.

"You're burning!" I gasp, eyes widening, and raise my hand to her forehead to confirm. She doesn't even really react to it, merely lies there and accepts it. "Al! Tio!" I call, heart racing.

"What? What's the matter?" Al bursts through the tent flap not a second later, Bruno tailing close behind.

"Sofia's sick." I glance at her, and they both hurry to her side.

She doesn't even look at them. Just lays there panting with her eyes closed.

Bruno puts his wrist to her forehead and frowns. "Camilo, go grab me one of the waterskins and a clean rag."

"Right," I nod, bolting up.

I sprint out of the tent, stumbling for a moment when making my turn in the direction of our cart. In a panic, I grab onto our closest shared knapsack, flopping open its top without care, and pull out one of the fuller waterskins, checked by a few shakes, along with a clean cloth.

Both in hand, I return to the tent.

"Here." I hand them to Bruno, huffing and pulse pounding in my ears.

Sofia sneezes, and I watch as Bruno opens up the waterskin. He drenches the cloth a little bit, and then gently folds it across Sofia's forehead.

"Keep this on for now and get some rest. Okay?" Bruno whispers softly, and Sofia nods.

Bruno then stands and looks at Al and me. He tilts his head toward the exit, gesturing for us to follow.

I hesitate for a second, not content that this is all we can do for now.

Sickness isn't a thing in the Encanto. The longest anyone in our family's had a cold has been for probably no more than a few minutes, thanks to Tia Julieta's near endless food reserves. But we don't have that here. We ran out of her treats awhile back. Most just because they were about to go bad from us hanging onto them for too long.

So, what do we do now?

Is this it?

Al and Bruno step outside, and gaping at them, I turn back to look at Sofia. Then reluctantly follow.

"There'll be no traveling today and possibly tomorrow." Bruno sighs once we're all out. "We'll have to stick around here until she's feeling better."

Al hums, and frowning, crosses his arms.

I scowl between the two of them. "That's it? That's all you have to say? That's all we can do?" I wave my hands in exasperation out in front of me.

They can't be serious.

Bruno's posture slumps. He pats me on the shoulder with a sympathetic half-smile. "She just has to rest. She'll be okay," he says. "All we have to do is be patient and wait."

Waiting.

Waiting has never been something I'm good at. Same as sitting around and doing nothing.

Hours pass. My stomach growls as I continue to break some branches apart for later kindling. A chore I deliberately chose to try to keep my mind off things and keep my hands busy.

Better than doing nothing, like Al and Bruno seem so keen to do.

Al's sudden loud huffing to my left interrupts my focus, capturing my attention. He's almost toppled over, hauling two full water buckets in his hands. Sweat glistens everywhere across his skin as if he just hopped fresh out of the river or a rainstorm, dampening his blue ruana.

"I will never take Sofia's magic for granted ever again." He groans, dropping the buckets flat on the ground, then puts his hands on his knees while continuing to pant.

A quiet chuckle slips past my lips. Thankfully, not loud enough for him to overhear.

Serves him right.

But I also completely understand.

Sofia being out of commission, even for this short amount of time, has been eye opening. What takes a lot of effort and time for the rest of us with some of these camp chores, takes almost no time with Sofia's powers. Gathering water being one example. Starting a fire and actually knowing how to cook being others.

I glimpse over at Bruno and sigh. That latter thought reminding me of yet another problem we're now having to deal with.

He's been trying to make us some lunch for us for the past hour or so now. Although, honestly, it's looked more like a guessing game, with him staring at multiple ingredients for minutes at a time before potentially plopping them into it like some skeptical, experimental witch's brew.

He stands beside our campfire, stirring whatever concoction he's come up with until now in the pot above.

Curious by the development, I hop up and approach to look it over. It's some kind of . . . brown, lumpy, bubbly mixture, with the rare cob of corn sticking out.

"You sure that's how that's supposed to look?" I grimace, tilting my head at him. The smell at least doesn't seem bad. There's no real scent I can really place beyond the steam from this distance. But the presentation? Yeah, it looks more like muddy slop. A meal even the donkey's probably wouldn't eat.

Bruno shrugs and takes a sip of it. I gawk at him in horror as his lips smack together. His eyes squint, almost like he's not quite sure what to make of the flavor or the texture, making it seem even more and more questionable, and possibly deadly.

"Eh. Tastes fine." He finally relents and plops the spoon back in. He grabs a bowl off the rock beside him, pours some into it, then passes it to me. "Bring her some, hm?" He offers with a kind half-smile.

I frown at it. "Uh . . . If you say so."

Still uncertain if we should actually serve this, or just 'accidentally' toss it out, I take it into Sofia's tent.

If Bruno hasn't plopped down dead yet, maybe there's some actual hope.

"Amorita? You awake?" I ask upon pushing through the tent flap.

Sofia doesn't stir. Her body remains still within her bedroll.

I walk over and kneel beside her. Her eyes are closed, and she seems to be sleeping. But she's breathing heavy, and she's got on a pained frown.

Concerned, I put the bowl down on the ground and place a hand to her forehead.

It's sweaty. Clammy. And she's even hotter than last time.

My heart plummets into the pit of my stomach.

"Tio Bruno!" I yell, eyes just about popping out of my head.

Bruno rushes in with Al right behind him this time.

"Her fever's gotten worse."

Bruno hurries to my side and checks her as well, moving his hand swiftly from her forehead, to her cheeks, to her neck.

"This isn't good," he whispers, face paling. Gaze darting.

"What do we do?"

"We need medicine, but . . ." Al sighs. He pulls out his money pouch from his pocket, peeks into it, then shakes his head. "I don't think if we have enough money saved up for some . . ."

I glimpse back away from him to Sofia. Bruno's still just staring down at her, brow knitted with panic and worry.

"I'll handle it." I bolt up and snatch Al's money pouch. "Leave it me!"

"Hey wait!" He and Bruno chase after me, out of the tent.

I sprint for the cart, quickly hopping into the driver's seat and whipping the reins to get the donkey moving. It brays and bursts into a gallop.

"Camilo!"

Al's shout echoes behind me as we make our way out of the camp clearing in the direction of the nearest road.

"Excuse me! Sorry!" I shout over my shoulder at the small group of people I brush past on the main street.

Behind me I can hear them grumble or whisper. But I don't pay them anymore mind. My focus is on finding a doctor in this small town I've found. Quick.

It took me maybe three hours to get here, pushing our donkey at full speed. At this rate, the sun's going to set before I'm even back on the road. Not ideal when time and being able to see are of the essence.

Panting, sweating, I run as fast as my legs can carry me, backpack full of things clunking loudly and messily behind me, weighing me down. My head swivels faster than a weather vane spinning in a storm, peeking around at each store front to check their mixture of window displays or street signs.

At last, a doctor's comes up.

I slow to a stop at the practice's front door, taking a moment to bow forward and catch my breath, before tugging on the spotless, metal handle. A tiny bell rings overhead as I step inside. The walls surrounding me now are pure white. A tall, older man with a grey mustache stands at the counter up front and looks down at me from over the tops of his spectacles.

"Can I help you?" He asks, eying me curiously from head to toe.

"Yes, I need some medicine that will help with fever." I stammer and rush up to him.

The man nods. He pulls open a drawer behind the counter and pulls out a small vial of red liquid to place in front of him. "That'll be three thousand pesos."

My breathing halts.

I gulp and grip onto the small pouch of coins in my pocket I know isn't enough in my hand. "Would you . . . be willing to do an exchange?"

The man narrows his eyes at me.

"I'll give you anything! Anything I have!" I scramble, slipping my backpack off and opening it up in a hurry. "I've got . . . some music books," I lift them out and pile them on the counter, "these dice, some cards, my . . . guitar."

I raise the latter, and my heart aches.

It means so much to me. But if it helps cure Sofia, then I . . .

"Please." I sigh and lower my head.

" . . . The person who needs this medicine must be important to you." The man remarks after a minute, picking up one of the dice.

I look up at him, and he leans one arm on the counter, examining me with a degree of lightness sparkling in his dark brown eyes.

"Who's it for?"

'My girlfriend.'

That's what I almost say. Then, I stop.

It doesn't feel sufficient.

Not for his question.

Not for this situation.

I consider it a second, wanting to answer as honestly as possible. As honest as I feel.

"My-My intended." I stare back at him. The settlement: decisive, true, with no hesitance, doubt, or fear.

"Ah, I see." The man smiles and stands up straight again. He watches me with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. The kind Abuela often gives whenever she catches me sneaking into the kitchen after meals.

"Here. Take it." He shoves the medicinal vial closer to me. "Make sure you care for her well."

My heart thuds.

I gawk at the medicine, then at him, then beam so wide with a tingling feeling in my belly I know later my cheeks will hurt.

"Gracias! Muchas gracias!" I grab it and bow my head. "I will."

The man waves me off. Without another word, he turns around and starts looking at some boxes on a shelf behind him.

Grinning from ear to ear, tears stinging at my eyes, I appreciate the guy one more moment, then rush back out onto the street in search of my cart and donkey.

I don't have a moment to waste.

"You're back! How'd it go?" Al runs up to me the second I pull into the clearing.

The surrounding area's dark now save for the yonder starlight and the small circle around our campfire. Crickets chirp all throughout the rolling valley in a constant lullaby, accompanied by the occasional croaking of frogs, or the hooting or screeching of a persistent owl.

"I got some medicine." I hop down, off the cart, pulling the bottle out of my pocket to show him.

Just lifting and moving my stiff arm like that elicits an aching twinge, coursing from my elbow, all the way to the end of my forearm. I grimace and try to shake it out. The ache almost seems to spread, moving further up into my shoulders, my neck, my back. It's like I've run an all-day marathon in that short ride in the cart.

Al grabs the bottle and gapes at it. Eyes wide, full of surprise but relief. Ignorant to my pain or discomfort.

That relief then vanishes, and, furrowing his brow, he scowls at it and turns to run into Sofia's tent.

I hurry after him, Bruno at last moving from his observing spot by the campfire also.

By the time I've caught up with him, he's already kneeling beside Sofia, holding the open bottle to Sofia's parted lips, one arm positioned behind her to help her sit up. "Come on. You have to drink this. Just a little bit," he ushers, tilting the bottle up slowly.

Sofia drinks from it, and Al pulls it away after a moment.

Bruno sighs. "Now we wait."

My eyes ache with the dryness of a lifeless desert as I stare at the dirt scattered at my feet.

I didn't sleep a wink last night after Sofia took her medicine, even though I wanted to, tried to, regardless of how much I tossed and turned or counted donkeys. So, it's not really a surprise I feel so terrible and worn out this morning, when the sun's yet to even fully rise. But I'm oddly feeling worse than I usually do, when I've pulled so many other all-nighters, reading or sneaking out, before.

If only Tia Julieta were here, then not only would I have the perfect coffee to help energize me throughout the day, Sofia would be 100% cured, too! A complete win-win!

I sigh and lower my head between my legs, hunching forward further in my seat, atop one of our lonely camp logs. The sun bears down on my back, warming it through my ruana. Its unrelenting heat and the shrill chirping of some nearby songbirds only make me, and my growing headache, feel worse.

"Morning!" a familiar chipper, female voice pops up behind me.

I jump and whirl around. Heart hopping into my throat.

Sofia smirks at me with her arms crossed in front of her—hair tied up in braids, all prior excessive pinkness from fever gone from her sweatless, tanned cheeks.

I gawp at her, struggling to process it.

"You're up!" The realization hits me.

"I'm up." She raises a sassy eyebrow.

My heart races, lifts.

"You're. . . better?" I tilt my head at her and squint, still halfway not believing it, part of me wondering if this is a dream. A delirious, happy dream.

"I'm better." She nods. Same amused expression continuing from before.

Her words take a moment to register.

Reality sets in.

I pinch myself to be sure and wince at the quick irk of pain.

Content with the result, I melt back into my seat, letting out a loud, unrestrained sigh of relief. A phantom weight disappearing from my shoulders I didn't even realize was there.

"Sorry to have worried you." Sofia sits down beside me. "And . . . gracias for taking care of me." She tucks some hair behind her ear and smiles softly at me. One I happily return. The affection contagious.

"Of course! What else would I do?" I shrug and grin at her playfully.

Sofia giggles.

And dios, how I missed those giggles. The giddy, fluttery feelings they also invoke inside me.

"Well, with that behind us, I guess I better get started on my chores."

She pauses and regards me schemingly.

"Unless you'd also like to do those for me?"

My jaw drops. I gawk up at her, look away, and rub the back of my neck. "Uh . . . I . . . Well-"

A loud sneeze erupts on the other side of camp.

We both whip our heads up to see Al, shaking his head with some branches bundled in his arms. A second later, he sneezes again, harder and louder than the last. This time he drops all of the branches in a clatter on the floor.

"Mierda," Sofia whispers, as we both watch him rub his nose.

So much for putting all that behind us.

I guess waiting again it is.