Bruno had just about decided that he was, in fact, going to be left for dead – and become the town's first fossil – when he was unceremoniously shoved onto his back. He groaned, feeling the dull fire that had settled near his liver curl up and under his arm, making a grab for his heart. It missed, but it's claws landed somewhere around his lungs and whatever noise he had managed died with a gasp and a wince.

"Bruno!"

"¡Ay, Di –!" It hurt too much to swear. "Pep..pa."

Her curls flew in all directions as the wind kicked up. "Don't 'Pepa' me! Do you know how long I've been looking for you!? I thought you were dead!"

"I'll try... harder... next time." Each breath felt like a knife in the ribs, and he was in no mood to deal with his sister's theatrics. Her eyes flashed in irritation then in real fear as she took in his condition. The wind stilled, bending to her under the weight of realization.

"Are you hurt? Don't be stupid, Pepa; of course you're hurt!" She stared at him, cycling through an entire week's worth of weather changes, trying to figure out what to do.

He rolled his eyes. "Help?"

"How?"

He shrugged then hissed. "Can't move...easily. Back..." Sweat beaded on his brow from the effort of talking. "Food?"

"I didn't bring – I-I didn't think you'd -"

He feebly flapped a hand, waving away her words. "Help."

"Again, how?"

"Pull."

"Can you even sit up?"

"...not well..."

"And you're going to walk all the way home?"

"...yeah."

She put her hands on her hips, looking down at him in consternation. "What if I just leave you here, hm?"

It took quite a bit not to laugh. "...you... won't..."

"Watch me."

He did. She spun on her heel and marched back up the road quickly, heading up the most direct route home.

She had may be ten paces left to go before she would have to turn, leaving him to fall out of her sight.

Eight...

Five...

...one...

She ran back.

"Fine! I won't!" She looked like she wanted to hit him. Or cry. Or both. He couldn't decide if he would prefer to be hit somewhere he was already injured or if he should challenge her to find a place that he wasn't.

"...help..."

She scowled at him. "I hate it when you're right."

He huffed and then winced. It took ten minutes and his entire catalog of curses (with a few impressive additions from Pepa) but they finally got him on his feet with his sister taking most of his weight. Everything hurt – walking, talking, breathing. His breath hitched with every other step, and he didn't have the energy to check the tears dripping off his chin.

They were silent as she dragged him home, both focused on just getting home without the other one breaking down completely. He could tell her thoughts were getting ahead of her when it started to rain on them, and he periodically gave her fingers a light squeeze of appreciation that she couldn't or wouldn't return. As they approached the drive, he stopped short, throwing her balance and nearly toppling them both.

"Brunito?" Her voice cracked.

"Around," he gasped.

"Wha -? Oh." She borrowed one of his more creative phrases. It was late. It was very late, and the outer courtyard swarmed with family and neighbors and children and animals. Bruno had already made to go towards the back door when Félix appeared at Pepa's shoulder, trying to screen her brother from view.

He gave Bruno a once over. "You look awful."

Bruno grimaced in acknowledgment.

"How can I help?"

He had given up trying to speak in whole sentences. His body spasmed with fatigue, wanting to fold in on itself in the agony, then stiffening when it tried. He could feel drying tear tracks on his cheeks and the sweat and mud smeared into his goatee, and his voice quavered as he whispered, "Julieta."

Getting him into the kitchen unseen was impossible. His face burned with the shame of being almost carried into the house, in front of the town, in front of his mother, at his niece's party.

Silence nipped at their heels.

His uneven footsteps, his faltering breath, his tears – all visible, all heard.

Julieta hovered just inside the threshold of the kitchen, ready to bar entry as soon as their sister and her husband got him across it. Slowly, very slowly, a low chatter rippled through the people as they returned to their dinner. He didn't have to imagine what they were talking about.

Julieta didn't even wait until they had figured out how – or if – he could sit. She pressed an arepa into his hand. His stomach flopped a little further out of place as he wondered if he could – or should – try to eat, but he supposed even if he threw it up, some healing magic was better than no healing magic. He regretted having that thought roughly ten seconds later, when the arepa settled into the pit of his stomach. He could feel his bones un-breaking, could feel his blood un-spilling, could hear the un-plucking of tensed muscles. Shuddering, he sat down hard in the floor, waiting for it to pass.

"¿Corazón?"

His sisters' faces swam into focus as the pain and un-pain receded. He met each of their eyes with a lopsided quirk of his mouth and saw them relax minutely. "I'm okay."

"What happened?" Julieta took inventory of him, noting the mud still spattered across most of his clothing and hair. Judging by the wrinkle in her nose, he stank, too – fresh earth mixing with the sweat of fear and injury.

"I..uh, the mule panicked and... and... it stepped on me." The admission cost him what little dignity he had. Further explanation was cut off as Mamí entered the kitchen. "It was -"

"...a vision?" She looked him over, the same tender look from earlier wrenching at his heart, and he wondered who she was looking at. At least until he saw her eyes pinch with the faintest disappointment. "Ay, Brunito. We'll talk later."

He nodded, knowing they wouldn't. She made as if to pat a knee or a shoulder but being unable to find one under the day's detritus, settled on a halfhearted wave to him and a beckoning hand to his sisters. They hovered uncertainly for a moment, torn between their mother's lead and their brother's need.

He made a vague shooing gesture. "Go on."

He stayed hidden through the rest of dinner, marking time by the shadows on the wall. His face still flushed hot with humiliation, and if he had had any idea on how to get to his room without calling any more attention to himself, he would have bolted as soon as he had been able to move unaided.

He had had enough of the Magic for one day. He had no interest in watching Isabela be sacrificed to it. But, as ever, his preferences went unregarded, for when the hour came, Casita's tiles rippled between him and the door, urging him to come see. He sighed and stood, the stiffness in his legs and back now born from sitting too long in his thoughts.

Isabela looked so grown-up and so small at the same time, standing in front of the crowd. She bit her lip, keeping her quivering chin up and her gaze fixed on the staircase before her. At the top stood Mamí.

"Bienvenidos a todos," she began, "to this much anticipated celebration of our family. For nearly thirty-five years, we have been blessed to serve this beloved community, and we now share our hopes for the future with you, that we all will continue to shine under the light of the miracle. The fifth birthday is a milestone in our family – when the Magic reveals its Gift in our children. What a joy it is to reach this day, first with my own children -" she offered a small stage smile to her daughters – "and now with theirs."

The smattering of applause echoed around the inner courtyard, curiosity settling on the crowd.

Alma motioned Isabela forward, beaming.

Isabela froze.

Alma chuckled uneasily, playing to the amusement of the people to smooth over the incident. "Come now, mi vida, or you won't have a place to sleep tonight." A low rumble of polite laughter ran through the assembly.

Isabela began to shake, furiously chewing on her lip. Bruno looked from his niece to his mother, anger drowning any sense of self-preservation he had clung to, and he strode from the shadows, making for his sobrina.

Mamí's lips thinned at the sight of him, as if he clashed rather horribly with the motif. Squaring his shoulders, he met her eyes, and for one uncomfortable second, all they could have talked about passed between them. Then he dismissed her from his mind. Isabela needed him now, and Mamí never had.

He knelt before Isa, taking her hands. "¿Estás bien?"

His heart seized when she shook her head, wide eyes going wider as she looked at all the crowd. "¿Tienes miedo?"

A nod.

"Change can be scary, mi cariño. I was scared when I got my Gift..." he hesitated. "Sometimes, I still am. But everyone who is here is here to celebrate the young woman you are becoming, not the Magic. The best new change is that you are now five, and it's not so bad, is it?"

She sniffed and shrugged, clutching tightly to his hands. "...w-will you stay with me, Tío?"

He swallowed, suddenly every bit as aware as she was of their audience, but acquiesced. There was no choice. "Of course. There's no place I'd rather be."

He stood, hand over hers, eyes forward. Looking only for the next step. And the next one. And the next one. He didn't look up until they had made it to the top of the staircase and dropped Isa's hand before she could feel the shaking. Mamí's eyes were cold on him, but her smile was all warmth as she knelt to Isabela's level.

He shivered when Isa wrapped her hands around the candle, pushing away memories he'd rather not revisit in public. Isabela looked toward the door.

He held his breath.

Something good.

She reached out.

Something beautiful.

He crossed his fingers.

Something pure.

Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob.

Not like mine. Not mi sobrina. Please. Please.

A faint chiming sound followed a flash as Casita acknowledged the door. Isa squeaked in surprise and jumped back.

Flower blossoms erupted in her hair – all colors and varieties. He breathed easier as she gawked at the door, looking at the etching of herself that was coming into focus – older, stunning, and surrounded by flowers and vines. He pulled a few of the blooms out of her hair and when she looked up, he held them out to her. She gasped, delighted.

"What's your favorite flower, cariño?"

She thought hard for a moment then held both of her hands before her as large purple petals opened from nowhere into a richer, fuller version of the orchid hair pin still crinkled in its wrappings in his pocket.

"It's gorgeous," he told her.

She turned to show Mamí, whose expression was wonder and delight and gratitude. It softened her face in such a way that Bruno could almost see the Mamí she had been before his own Gifting. She laid a hand on Isabela's shoulder, proclaiming to the gathering, "We have a new Gift!"

Casita flung open the door to Isabela's room, which showed itself to be much like an artist's canvas – barren but awaiting the touch of the creator. Bruno saw dozens of flower beds and pots and daises scattered throughout, and the ceiling had to be nearly as far from the ground as the top of his tower room. Isa was chattering excitedly with her mother, who was pointing out the best places to grow certain herbs or flowers she herself used, and neither seemed to notice that petals trailed after her as she ran from corner to corner, blanketing every available surface with any flower she could think of.

He stood aside, allowing everyone else to go ahead of him and doing his best to blend in with the wall. Relief and exhaustion were weighing on him, and he had done everything he could for Isabela. She wouldn't miss her old Tío for a night.

With a small sigh, he withdrew the hair pin, laying it against the door frame. "Happy birthday, Isabela."

Casita was merciful tonight. It didn't try to stop him from leaving nor did it clatter disapprovingly at his choice to abandon the festivities. Perhaps it could sense how tired he was from today. Perhaps it could sense how much more excitable the sobrinas were going to be tomorrow and knew he would need the rest.

The melancholy that had been growing throughout the day peaked now that he was alone with his thoughts.

So, we begin again.

Now that the Magic had shown itself willing and capable of being passed down through the family, the rest of the children would be brought to it as well, and he, not having any, would have to keep his own council on this. It still didn't seem fair to them – making a choice for them they could barely understand, dictating a path to them before any others could be explored. And it would be harder to argue his point now that Isabela's Gift had been revealed. He was, and forever would be, thankful that her Gift was Beauty and Want not Desolation and Need but he, more than anyone, knew how fickle Time could be. How would the Magic use them when the moment came? How would they respond?

Change can be scary... I was scared... I still am.

Of the Magic.

I thought you were dead!

Of the town.

Be gone!

Of his family.

Ay, Brunito.

He sighed, stripping off ruana, shirt, and trousers, and flinging them into "I'll find it tomorrow." He was going to hate himself in the morning for not taking the time to wash tonight, but he couldn't bring himself to care about one more thing. It would break him, and he was not going to breakdown for beginning and ending the day worried about dirty clothes. But he came very close to blubbering when he drew back his sheets and realized that he hadn't been the only one to escape the party.

Little Luisa lay there sleeping, nestled in the missing ruana, and judging from the various crumbs and smudges on it, she had stolen in several days ago and probably didn't intend to give it back. She had her face pressed into her uncle's pillow with a smile, and he reconsidered one of his judgments as he settled himself to spend the night on the floor.

Whatever else came, this was the blessing. They were the Gift.

Will you stay with me, Tío?

There's no place I'd rather be.

Author's Note: I do subscribe to the theory that Mirabel's involvement in Antonio's ceremony influenced why his door shows him as a child rather than an adult – because she accepts him for who he is in the moment. This story is kind of a headcannon in that vein – Isabela's gift is one of the more impractical ones. Why? Because Bruno's involvement influenced the Gift she was given – something beautiful. Something unlike his own, that would ensure her life and future were better ('easier'?) than his.

Hope you enjoyed! Would love to hear your thoughts! -WW