Dolores heard her tío's door open, the doorknob turning, the sliding of mostly silent hinges. A moment later she heard quiet footsteps and the latch in the door click into place. More footsteps followed, past the other doors, down the stairs, and into the kitchen.

Her uncle seemed to spend less and less time actually sleeping and, it seemed, at least since their conversation over hot chocolate one late night, more time sneaking down to the kitchen after everyone else was asleep, sometimes for a glass of water, sometimes for tea, sometimes for whatever leftovers he could find after missing dinner.

He had missed dinner today. And lunch. And had only picked at his breakfast, his eyes not quite their usual dark color but still somehow not quite glowing. For once, his sisters and Abuela had refrained from trying to make him eat more.

After breakfast he had been all but tackled by Camilo and Maribel, both still too small to actually understand much of anything, both demanding stories and hugs and games, and though he had not quite been able to hide a grimace from his older nieces, he also had not been able to say no.

He had introduced a new game, dragging them all into the pantry, all but closing the door behind him, and throwing a huge, nearly threadbare blanket over all their heads. Everyone's legs stuck out except for the two youngest Madrigals, but no one seemed to mind.

The game was camping-out, and the rules were only one person could talk at a time, and they could only talk very quietly, otherwise the wild jungle animals would eat them. This rule was punctuated with the world's softest growl and weakest pounce, but nonetheless Tio Bruno managed to send the two youngest Madrigals into giggling fits that made him close his eyes in a way that very much reminded Dolores of the days when her own gift made every sound seem like it was poking a hole straight through her skull.

The game, though, was that since they were camping-out, there also had to be stories involved. Tío Bruno told the best stories, of course, but now, because of the rules, he could only tell them very quietly, and only if nobody else was talking, because of the jungle animals and getting eaten.

He managed one and a half very quiet, very exciting stories before Mirabel forgot the rules completely. Pointing directly at his face, and forgetting to whisper, she said, "Your eyes are glowing, Tío Bruno."

He blinked at her, then rubbed a hand across his face. His voice suddenly strained, he looked straight at Dolores's youngest prima and pointed right back at her.

"And you've just been eaten."

Mirabel snorted. "But you're here. You'd protect me from any animals."

Bruno considered this. Dolores noticed his hands were suddenly shaking. "You're right. I would," he agreed. "Maybe it's not too late. If everyone lays down and is super quiet, maybe the animals won't get Mirabel. Maybe they'll think everyone's asleep and pass us by."

Camilo and Mirabel pressed their little bodies against the floor, squeezing their eyes closed tightly. Luisa followed suit. Isabella and Dolores had by now figured out that please, please, please be quiet was the real name of the game, and tried not to make any noise either, though both watched their tío carefully.

He met their eyes; his own widened as he realized they knew something was up, but neither girl spoke. Dolores studied her uncle carefully for signs of a headache, signs she knew all too well from personal experience.

Light was bothering him, that was why he had thrown a blanket over their heads in a pantry that he had intentionally left dimly lit. He was still squinting in the near darkness.

Sound was bothering him, which was why the new game was all about being quiet.

He was probably nauseous, since he hadn't eaten breakfast.

His jaw, whenever he wasn't speaking, was tightly clenched. It didn't really help with the pain, but Dolores still found herself doing the same when her own headaches got bad.

He was starting to tremble, just a little bit, as they lay there. Hopefully the little kids would think it was in fear of being eaten by jungle animals, but Dolores knew better.

His eyes were glowing brighter now, almost too brightly to look at. Dolores exchanged another glance with her cousin.

"I bet I could make some jungle plants up in my room," Isabella said abruptly. Her whisper sounded loud in the silence. Tío Bruno winced. "Then we could be the jungle animals."

"Are you gonna eat us?" Camilo asked, interested, not bothering to hush his voice.

"Maybe."

"Gotta catch us first!" The two youngest Madrigals bolted, dragging the blanket off most of their heads with them. Isabella left more carefully, waiting until she exited the pantry to take off after her sister and cousin.

Luisa looked at her uncle, then at Dolores, who waved her on. Her prima nodded and left, chasing after the others far less gracefully than her sister, but not as clumsily as one might have expected.

"Can I help?" Dolores was not sure he heard her at first, his eyes closed tightly against the dim light of the pantry, but after a long moment, he shook his head.

"Are you having a vision?"

Tío Bruno nodded once, very carefully.

"Should I get someone?" Not Mama. She got upset too easily, and thunder would only make his headache worse. "I could get Tía Julieta."

After a long moment, he nodded.

Dolores left as quietly as she could, not wanting to cause him more pain.

She found her aunt in the garden, picking herbs and vegetables in preparation for their noonday meal.

"Tía?"

Her aunt turned, looking surprised. "I thought you were playing animals with your cousins and brother."

"We were." Suddenly Dolores felt shy. She wasn't quite sure why. "Actually, first we were playing in the pantry with Tío."

Tia Julieta looked surprised. "Tío Bruno?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing. Dolores nodded.

"After breakfast, Camilo and Mirabel wanted to play. So we played a game where everyone had to be super quiet so we didn't get eaten by jungle animals." Dolores hesitated, then added. "His eyes started glowing while we were playing."

"Is everyone else still playing with Tío Bruno?" There was a sharpness in the question, but Dolores refused to flinch. Her uncle needed her help, even if Tía Julieta was upset.

"Not anymore. Isabella took them upstairs to try to make jungle plants. But he's still in the pantry, and he's having a vision, and I asked if he wanted me to get somebody, because his head is hurting really bad."

Tía Julieta shot a surprised glance at her niece. "You can tell?" Dolores nodded.

She followed her aunt through the garden and back towards the house.

"I'll make sure your tío is okay, Dolores." The woman told her firmly, as they reached the back door that led into the kitchen. "Thank you for helping."

She knew she should go. She knew her aunt wanted her to go. Tío Bruno probably didn't want her around either. Dolores never wanted anyone around when her head hurt that badly.

Still, she hesitated.

"Is it his gift?" she blurted, before she could change her mind. "Does it hurt him to have a vision?"

Tía Julieta stared at her sobrinA for a moment, then her expression softened. "Sometimes, mija. Not always. But sometimes he gets headaches."

"I know he has trouble sleeping."

"That too." Tía Julieta agreed. She looked sad. "Now go on, so I can take care of your uncle."

Dolores nodded and went somewhere else. It did not stop her from hearing her uncle's soft moan as his hermana reached him, or her whispered reassurances as she helped him up to his room.

She listened as the sand in his room began to swirl around him, the sound one she would forever associate with her uncle, and hoped that once he had his vision, that he would feel better.

Dolores heard the sands fall as the vision finished. From here she could not hear the sound of her Tío's heartbeat, or his breathing. She almost missed the low, strangled cry that escaped him, followed by the sound of crying.

She stood, her first impulse to go to him, only to stop abruptly as the faint sound of retching reached her ears.

Dolores knew full well that nobody liked being bothered when they were throwing up, so she sat down again to wait for him to finish, still listening to make sure he was okay. She felt something wet on her face and realized she was crying.

She wiped her face and stood, making her way back inside the house and upstairs towards her uncle's room. Dolores had absolutely no idea how to help, but she was determined to do something.

Her mind changed as she reached the door to his room; judging by the sound of his breathing, in the short time it had taken her to make it inside he had already fallen asleep.

Even Camilo and Mirabel knew not to wake Tío Bruno when he was sleeping.

Dolores turned and made her way back to her own room. Once there she set herself gently on her bed and burrowed her face into her pillow, more tears escaping, and a silent sob clawing its way out of her chest.

It did not take her long to cry herself to sleep.


Dolores found her sitting at the dining room table, staring at a plate of food that must have been left specifically for him. Tía Julieta had a tendency to load his plate up with three times the amount of food he could eat on a good day, if he let her.

He saw her come in, and managed a small, almost frail smile.

Dolores hovered shyly in the doorway, not sure why she suddenly felt reluctant to disturb him, but then her uncle raised an eyebrow and beckoned her over with a still trembling hand and she found herself practically throwing herself at him as he wrapped one thin arm around her and, with far more effort than it should have taken him, dragged her up into his bony, not entirely comfortable lap.

"W-what's on your mind, Doli?" Her tío's voice hurt. Not because it was too loud, in fact it was little more than a whisper, but because of the way the words scraped brutally in his throat as he fought to get them out.

"Did you have your vision?" she asked, and felt him tense. Heard his heart stammer, and she wanted to never ask him about his gift again, not if it hurt him like this. She knew the adults always wanted to know what he saw, and that they were upset by his visions more often than not, but that wasn't why she had asked. "Are you okay now?"

He relaxed just a little bit. He was still shaking.

He wasn't okay.

"I heard you, after," she said, and her uncle stopped breathing. Stopped moving. She turned, taking in his gray skin and too-wide eyes, glazed and unfocused and terrified all at once. Dolores was suddenly more afraid for her Tío than she had ever been for anyone in her life. "Tío?"

He came back to her abruptly, his heart racing, his breath coming short and fast. "You heard me?" Not just fear in his eyes, but shame too, as if he had been caught doing something unspeakable. His voice was somehow smaller, more fragile than it had been when he asked her what was bothering her.

Wordlessly, Dolores nodded. Tío Bruno closed his eyes.

"Oh, god, mija. I didn't know-" he swallowed once, twice, three times. Dolores wondered if he was going to throw up again. "You shouldn't have to-" He looked down at her, still afraid, still ashamed, and Dolores didn't know what else to do. She didn't want her tío to feel worse than he already did.

"I only heard a little bit," she lied. Dolores didn't like lying any more than her uncle did, but his breath evened out just a little bit, so she kept going. "But I knew you had a headache earlier, so I was worried. And I didn't want to bother you while you were still in your room."

His heartbeat slowed. He didn't relax, but maybe by this point he couldn't. Dolores looked up at her tío, realizing for the first time that he always looked tired, always looked sick, always looked nervous, even when he was trying to hide all that from his sobrinos.

She risked moving to dart up and kiss him on the cheek. "But your better now," she lied again, "so now I don't have to worry about you."

She knew enough now to realize the smile he gave her as he loosened his grip on her she could slide to the floor was entirely fake, but smiled back anyway. Hugging him quickly, carefully, she told him goodnight and left him there in the kitchen.

Back in her room, she cried herself to sleep for the second time in twenty-four hours.