Episode Three: Surface Pressure

10 years ago...

Someone was crying.

It wasn't the heartbroken sob of a young girl who had been promised something wondrous only to have it snatched away before a crowd of confused on-lookers. Nor did it sound like the sorrowful tears of a parent feeling powerless to help their child through the grief. No, it was the gut-wrenching wail that accompanied devastating news. The cry of intense pain that twists and writhes beneath your ribs, its needle-like talons piercing the membrane of your heart as its fingers press deep into the pulsating muscle, leaving punctures that right there in that moment, you know even the passage of time will never fully heal. It was the unmistakable, anguished cry of loss. Luisa had never heard such crying before, but she instantly recognised the intensity of the pain. One of her family members was in trouble, so she hurried purposely from her room, ready to help in any way she could.

"Left?" she heard Tía Pepa's voice from the floor below. "That coward? Oh come on, he won't last a day out there. Trust me, if I know our brother, and I do, he'll be back inside the Casita before the week is out."

"You didn't see his face. If you'd seen him, you'd know. He has no intention of returning," Luisa's mom replied through sobs. "You know how it works, Pepa. How many people have ever left the Encanto and returned? Even if he does change his mind, he'll never find his way home."

They seemed to be by the front door, so Luisa walked around to the stairs leading to the foyer.

"What's going on? Why's Mamá crying?" she asked when she reached the landing. She saw her mom slumped on the floor, and Tía Pepa sat beside her, comforting her.

"Luisa, darling. Go back to bed," her mom said, trying to mask her tears.

"Did something happen to Tío Bruno?"

"Please, back to bed! We can talk about this in the morning," her mom ordered again, this time more firmly.

Luisa did as she was asked and returned to the upper balcony. As she reached the landing, Abuela came out of her room looking panicked but didn't so much as acknowledge Luisa as she passed. She hurried down the stairs towards Luisa's mom and aunt.

"Has something happened? The candle... I saw it dim again," Abuela cried, her voice cracking.

When Luisa reached her door, she opened it and immediately closed it again, loud enough that her mom would hear and assume she had entered. She then tiptoed along the balcony and crouched by the railings to better hear the conversation below.

"What?" Abuela gasped. "Then he's betrayed this family. That wretched man couldn't even help us when we needed him most. He would rather leave than have just one vision..."

"Mamá, he said he had the vision," Luisa's mom insisted.

"And you believed him?" snapped Abuela. "I know you always saw the best in him, Julieta, but trust me, it wasn't always there."

"He was telling the truth!"

"So tell me, where is this vision he claims to have had?"

"He said he destroyed it."

"Oh, he did, did he? How convenient."

Tía Pepa interjected, "It does seem a bit suspicious that there's no evidence of it."

Footsteps approached the stairs. "I don't ever want to hear his name again. Do you understand? From this day on, I only have two children," hissed Abuela before marching up the stairs. Luisa hurried back to her room, closing the door as quietly as possible.

.

The following morning...

The conversation played over and over in Luisa's mind, keeping her from sleep. She wondered how much truth there was in what she heard. Had her uncle really left? Did he really have a vision before he left, and if so, what could be so bad that it would cause him to leave the safety of the Encanto?

Luisa woke later than usual, having only had an hour or two of broken sleep. She quickly got dressed and left her room, stepping onto the balcony before turning towards the back stairs. As she approached Bruno's tower, something compelled her to look up the steps, and it caught her breath. The magical light from Tío Bruno's door had gone out. His image remained etched into the wood, but it was otherwise just a regular wooden door. She had always known the doors would suddenly appear when the time was right. She had now learnt they could just as suddenly vanish, thanks to the previous night's disastrous gift ceremony. But not in her darkest dreams had she considered that the magic itself could disappear from the doors altogether, snuffing out like a spent candle. The magic she always believed to be strong and dependable had begun to feel fragile, and that frightened Luisa. Weakness had always frightened her.

She hurried to Dolores's room. If anyone had heard what happened the night before, it would be her cousin. She knocked, harder than intended, and Dolores answered in her nightdress. Her hair, which she always wore in a high puff adorned with a thick red bow, was down and stuck out in all directions as though trying to gather itself back up on the top of her head.

"Can I come in?" Luisa asked immediately, keeping her voice down.

"Of course. What's wrong?"

She entered the room, and Dolores gently closed the door behind them.

"Did ya hear anything last night?" Luisa asked hurriedly.

"At the gift ceremony?"

"No, after that. Through the night. Did you hear what happened with Tío Bruno?"

Her question seemed to alarm Dolores.

"Tío Bruno? No, I must have been asleep. What's wrong?"

"I dunno. I just heard our mamás talking to Abuela. They said something about a vision and him leaving the Encanto. Then when I came out my room just now, and turned towards the tower? The light's like, totally gone from his door. It's like, the magic isn't there anymore."

Dolores's eyes went wide, and she seemed to hold her breath. She cocked her head and from her expression, whatever she could hear was not good news.

"He is gone," she confirmed.

"How do you know?"

"I can hear sand."

Luisa had no idea what that meant, but she trusted that Dolores knew what she was talking about. Besides her mom, Dolores had been the only family member to ever really speak to their uncle. Luisa hoped that her knowledge of him might help clear up the other thing the adults had discussed.

"They also talked about him having a vision," she explained. "Mamá seemed to think he did, but your mom and Abuela thought he'd made it up. What do you think? Would he lie about something like that?"

"No, he wouldn't," Dolores answered immediately, speaking quickly in a low whisper. "I always thought he stayed in his tower to avoid the family. That's the story we were told, right? But do you know what he was doing up there? That whole time? Just waiting. Waiting to be needed. Waiting to feel useful." She paused to take a breath, letting it out with a heavy sigh, then continued more slowly, "So no. I don't think he would have refused. I think he would have done anything asked of him. And if he's left, there must be a good reason. He must've seen something in that vision that made him leave."

.

There was a strained atmosphere at breakfast. Hardly anybody spoke, and when they did their sentences were short and forced through uncomfortable smiles that didn't reach their eyes. Despite Luisa's mom's promise to talk about it in the morning, it was apparent that no mention of the previous night's events would be tolerated. Everyone ate as quickly as they could and left the dining room as soon as they were finished. Luisa was keen to get started on her duties for the day so hurried to her room to check her schedule.

As she left her room, she heard voices coming from the direction of Bruno's tower.

"That just about proves it then. He did have a vision," she heard her dad proclaim.

"You think?" replied Tío Felix.

"Why else would he have destroyed the bridge? Something's up there he doesn't want us to see."

They both froze when they reached the bottom of the steps and noticed Luisa.

"Oh, hi..." said Tío Félix, motionless except for his eyes and mouth.

"Just erm, checking the tower's safe... It's... it's not. Best stay out of there, okay?" said her dad, awkwardly.

Luisa knew it was pointless trying to talk about it, so just nodded, "Okay Papi," and started to go down the stairs. She looked over her shoulder when she reached the landing and saw the two of them hurry into Abuela's room.

Luisa made her way back up the stairs, then tiptoed as quietly as she could over to the door.

"There was no way over?" she heard Abuela's voice clearly from the window above.

"No, but it'll be there. I'm sure of that. I trust Julieta's judgement," said Luisa's dad.

"Then we need to get over there. We need that vision," Abuela said forcefully. "Isabela could get across, couldn't she? Or maybe Luisa could make a bridge?"

"No... I don't want our daughters involved in this. Whatever was in that vision can't be good. The less they know, the better."

xxx

Present day...

For a fleeting moment when Luisa opened her eyes, the light from her door had gone out.

She sat up with a start and looked straight at it. It appeared exactly as it always did, the light glowing as it seemed to flow around the image, contrasting brightly against the shimmering background. Luisa continued to contemplate the door. Had the light really been out, or was it just her nightmares spilling into waking consciousness?

The chime of an alarm clock snapped her abruptly from her thoughts, as her bed rocked and shook. The Casita always knew whose turn it was to set up for breakfast and dutifully ensured they were up in time. Luisa rarely needed the house to wake her. She would usually wake an hour or more before the rest of the family. That ensured she had time to work out before the bustle of the day began, and the never-ending list of chores and requests came flooding in.

She didn't have to work out. Her gift gave her all the strength she needed. Yet the grandchildren all shared a nagging feeling that simply receiving a gift because of the family they were born into wasn't enough. There was a compelling drive to prove they had talents beyond their gifts. That they had somehow earned it and were willing to put in the effort to maintain it. For her older sister, Isabela, this had meant learning dance and acrobatics, developing her poise and grace, so she could appear just as effortlessly perfect as the delicate blooms she created. Her cousin Camilo, had taught himself to do stunts and honed his acting skills so that he could use his gift to amuse and entertain the townspeople when he wasn't helping them in more practical ways.

Luisa felt that pressure more than anyone else in the family. In her case, proving herself meant waking up early and working out. It meant not only being strong but looking strong. It meant being the kind of towering figure that nobody would dare throw stones at or call names. It meant taking out her frustration on a punching bag so that she would always keep her composure under pressure. And it also meant always appearing eager to help, never turning down a request no matter how obscure or how much easier it would be for the person to do it themselves. The requests were endless, though, and even when the rest of the family was unwinding after a busy day, there would still be jobs for Luisa to do right up until she crashed onto her bed, spent, and in need of rest before the whole cycle repeated the following day.

The closest she got to relaxation was daydreaming while she worked, when she would drift off to magical lands, hanging out with her perfect friends who kept her company through the toil, and who loved her for who she truly was. The kind of friends she'd never hope to find in the real world.

The door had unnerved Luisa.

She'd had a recurring nightmare for many years, in which she'd return to her room to find that the light had gone out from her door just as it had from her uncle's—that dreadful door that taunted her menacingly from the top of the drab, green staircase every time she passed it. She tried not to look, but just being near it was enough to remind her that the magical light could go out. That one's place in the family wasn't guaranteed. It made the magic feel fragile, which reminded her of her own fragility. She would be nothing without her gift.

No matter how large her body became, Luisa felt invisible, especially to Abuela. She clung helplessly to the hope that she could do something to get back in her good graces, but it seemed that no matter how hard she worked or how eager she showed herself to be, she had faded, just like the light from that door. All Luisa was to Abuela was her gift. The person behind the gift, her true self, had become entirely invisible. Her uncle's door ensured she never forgot that as she went about her daily life, and her nightmares made sure she remembered while she slept.

Mirabel's outburst at the gift ceremony had struck terror in Luisa. If what she claimed to have seen was true, if the miracle was in danger, there was a possibility they could all lose their gifts. The rest of the family would manage just fine. They weren't invisible. They wouldn't be worthless without their gifts. Luisa would be nothing though, and when Mirabel spoke about the cracks, she had felt something terrible, just for a moment, but the horror of it had kept her up for most of the night.

.

The requests for help started rolling in the second Luisa reached the town after Abuela's instruction at breakfast to 'work twice as hard'. She often wondered if people lay in bed late at night desperately thinking of things they could get done by Luisa for neither thanks nor payment. Did they leap out of bed excitedly at the prospect the following morning? Would they wait by their windows until they saw her approach, then walk casually through the front door pretending it was a fortuitous coincidence that they crossed paths? It certainly seemed that way. She got straight on with moving the church a little to the right; by no means the first time she had moved it, and unlikely the last. Then Señor Rendon, who ran the donkey rental service, came by to tell her the donkeys had escaped again.

There were three barns at equal distance around the outskirts of town, with a block of stalls at the centre, near the main plaza. People would borrow a donkey from one barn and then leave it at the nearest barn or in the stalls at the end of their journey. It was a very convenient service that dated back to when the inhabitants first arrived and had to share resources, so most families didn't need a donkey of their own. They even had a few horses for anyone wishing to make a longer journey or needing to travel faster. Unfortunately, the donkeys had learnt to reach over and slide the latch on the gate of one of the barns. It was a problem easily fixed with a padlock or by moving the latch lower down the gate, but why waste the ten minutes that would take when you had Luisa to round them up every morning?

Luisa heard someone call her name as she picked up a donkey and piled it onto the three she was already carrying; Mirabel had followed her into town. She had been acting strange all morning and seemed to think Luisa knew something about the cracks she claimed to have seen. All Luisa knew was what she overheard ten years ago, and it gave little in the way of concrete facts. Luisa was concerned, but she couldn't put her finger on why, and certainly couldn't explain it to her sister, so she tried to ignore her and carried on towards the rest of the escaped donkeys.

xxx

Ten years ago...

The mountains that encased the Encanto fell sharply into the foothills, which then drifted lazily down towards the town in a vast patchwork of mounds. It was throughout these gentle hills that the community grew the food on which they relied. Their location in the mountains afforded them a relatively stable climate, as they cycled between 'mild and rainy', and 'mild and not quite so rainy'. There had not been a true dry season since long before Luisa's time. Of course, the Encanto wasn't entirely without seasonality, but fluctuations were small, and thanks to Tía Pepa's gift, they could grow any crop all year round. Being cut off from the outside world meant they needed to be completely self-sufficient, so having a constant supply of food was one of their many blessings.

Luisa had the gift of exceptional strength and as such, she spent a lot of her time helping around the farms and transporting produce. The farmers were busily sewing crops ready to take advantage of the approaching rainy season. Planting wasn't the most physically demanding task, however, so other than helping to till the soil, Luisa tended to have a little less to do on the farms at that time of year. This year, however, one of the farmers had the idea of building a dam over part of the river, to create a flooded area and make growing rice less demanding on Tía Pepa.

Luisa had spent the morning helping to transport large quantities of wood and stone down to the river. She placed down the last few stones and then headed to the farmhouse to collect some rice and sweet potatoes. The farmers had offered them as thanks for her and Tía Pepa's tireless dedication and of course, the job of carrying them home fell on Luisa. As she approached the building, she could hear laughter from the kitchen window.

"Hahaha.. how the mighty fall, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. It was shocking. Nobody 'spected that!"

"Whaddya think caused it? D'ya think there's something wrong wi' the li'l girl?"

"Dunno. There was something wrong with her uncle though, so maybe."

"Yeah.. better she got no gift than his right? The last thing we need is another Bruno."

"Right! Did ya see him yesterday? Just as creepy as ever. Hardly said a word to anyone all night... Just staring into space like he were plottin' something..."

"Just as well if ya ask me. The less he says the better! Hahaha."

"True enough. Though I reckon it's not just him. There's something sinister in that family. I mean like bad blood... or... well let's just say not all magic comes from a good place... Who knows what they really do to get their so-called gifts..."

Luisa was horrified. She had always thought that the inhabitants of the Encanto loved and admired her family. She recalled the devastated face of her little sister from the night before. That terrible moment when the cruel reality of the world came crumbling down on the one person who, more than any other, Luisa felt duty-bound to protect.

In the stillness, trembling with rage, she felt her purple skirt tickle against her ankles as it billowed in the breeze. Wind rarely entered the Encanto naturally. By the time it reached the mountains, it would slow down so much that it ran out of momentum. She glanced over to the Casita in the distance. A merry-go-round of dark clouds encircled the roof, pushed along by a mini tornado. The family might have been putting on a brave face, but they couldn't hide the fact that they were worried.

She entertained the urge to smash the door and tell the farmworkers what she thought of them, but her loyalty to her family won out. More than anything, she wanted to get home and comfort Mirabel. To protect her from the brutality of the cruel reality to which she had innocently fallen victim. A reality that Luisa was only just discovering herself. She snatched a sack of rice and a basket of potatoes from the store to the front of the farmhouse. Luisa always asked first before taking anything, even if it had already been freely given. She didn't feel like extending such courtesy, though. They didn't deserve it. Throwing the sack onto her shoulder and gripping the basket, she set off towards the town without a word.

Luisa had only travelled a short distance through the town when she suddenly felt something strike the back of her head. She turned and saw three older children laughing maliciously; two boys and a girl, all around the same age as her older sister.

"Whaddya do that for?" Luisa asked angrily.

"Do what? We didn't do anything," sneered one of the boys.

"Sure ya did. You threw something at me."

The boy didn't reply. Instead, the girl asked, "So, what's wrong with your sister anyway? Why didn't she get a gift?"

"Nothing's wrong with her!"

"My papá says..." began the other, taller boy, "that the miracle is dying. He says the magic will run out one day, and you'll all lose your gifts."

"That's not possible!" insisted Luisa. She could feel her cheeks burning, and her hand clenched so tightly around the rice that her fingers were starting to punch holes through the sack.

"And my Abuela says your uncle's really a witch," said the shorter boy. "Everyone knows it, but they're too scared to say so in case he puts a curse on them. Oh? Maybe he put a curse on your sister?"

"I heard the whole family are witches!" jeered the girl. "Apparently they got their gifts because Alma let Pedro die. It was the blood sacrifice that made the magic."

Luisa could feel the rage building, like a geyser about to blow. Nevertheless, she chose to ignore the children and continue heading back to her family. A stone flew past her, only just missing her cheek. She watched it chip as it struck the ground and skipped a little along the path. Still, she didn't react. Then another stone came, this time hitting her on the shoulder.

That was it. As though no longer in control of her body, Luisa slammed down the sack of rice with a dull thud. The street around her seemed to fade from view until only she and the children existed in the world. Then as though at the mercy of some unseen puppeteer, she raised the basket of sweet potatoes. With a mighty swing, she hurled it in the direction of the children. The basket smashed into the taller boy with so much force that he was launched backwards, hitting the ground with a sickening crack. Potatoes tumbled out, scattering around him as the other children screamed, and several townspeople ran to help.

Luisa, now back in her body, stood stunned, before quickly realising what she had done. Her heart raced as she grabbed the sack. 'He'll be alright, he'll be alright', she told herself as she began to hurry home, leaving the potatoes at the scene. When she was a short distance away, she heard someone shouting, "Has anyone got a horse? We need to fetch Julieta right away!" The boy was not alright.

When she neared the house, a cantering rhythm of hooves came drumming against the stone of the road behind her. The rider passed without a word, and the chestnut horse slowed when it reached the cobble leading to the Casita. Her mom rushed towards the rider as he approached, and her dad and Dolores looked on from just inside the front door.

"What did you do?" her mom called out when Luisa was close enough.

"I..."

"We'll talk about this when I get back," her mom said as the man helped her onto the horse.

The horse trotted back along the path then broke into a canter as it hit the road.

"Thanks for telling on me," Luisa snapped when she entered the Casita.

"It's Dolores's job to tell the family what she hears," said her dad firmly.

"And I suppose you've told Abuela too, have you?"

"No, she doesn't know yet. I just told your parents," Dolores replied. "I was trying to do the right thing, Luisa."

Luisa felt her dad's hand on her shoulder as he bent closer to her height. It wasn't difficult. She was pretty tall for a nine-year-old. "Abuela will need to know about this, but leave it to your mamá and me."

Her dad then suggested they sit at a small round table beside the front stairs while they continued to talk. It was just about as far from Abuela's room as possible without leaving the building.

"It happened so fast," Luisa explained quietly. "People have been saying such horrible things about the family since the gift ceremony."

Dolores piped in. "They've been saying those things for much longer than that," she explained. "It's just gotten worse."

"They've always thought we were witches?" Luisa asked, shocked.

"Only a few families. And they mostly just say that about..." She paused and looked at Luisa's dad as though checking she had permission to mention him, "...our uncle," she settled on to avoid saying his name. "I dread to think what they'll say when they find out he's gone."

"Which is why we must act like nothing's changed," Luisa's dad warned. "We can't let anything be overheard."

"I'm in so much trouble, aren't I?" Luisa said, trying not to cry.

Her dad did his best to give her a reassuring smile, though it came out lopsided and awkward. "It's nothing we can't fix, but it might take some time," he said, almost convincingly.

.

A little later...

Luisa's mom returned home and reported that the boy was okay. His nose had been broken, and his head hit the floor hard enough to crack and bleed, but it was nothing her mom couldn't deal with. A part of Luisa found it ironic that the boy had only just been insulting her family and yet was probably already back to running around and picking on younger kids thanks to one of their gifts. She doubted he would have learnt anything from the experience, though.

Her mom had brought the basket of sweet potatoes home with her, so Luisa put them away in the kitchen while her parents were upstairs, talking to Abuela. She wished she had Dolores's gift. At least then, she would be prewarned of just how much trouble she was in.

A door opened, and Luisa heard footsteps descending the back stairs. It was time to face her grandmother. Luisa arrived in the courtyard just as Abuela, and her parents reached the fountain. Her mom wore an expression of concern mixed with sadness, but Abuela's face was contorted with anger. Luisa hung her head and braced herself for what was to come.

"Have you any idea the damage you have caused?" Abuela barked.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I was trying not to... but then..."

Abuela held up her palm to stop Luisa from speaking, "I don't want to hear your excuses. You have shown everyone how weak you really are today."

Those words packed a devastating blow. Even before she had received her gift, Luisa had never been called 'weak'. It was a dreadful, hateful word, especially from the mouth of Abuela. The worst part was that it was true. Before she threw the basket, she had indeed felt powerless, scared, and, yes, weak. She wanted to cry, but she knew that tears would only make her appear weaker still, so she choked them back. Then, with a deep, steadying breath, she said, as confidently as possible, "I will do better from now on Abuela. I promise. This won't happen again. I will become stronger, and I will make the family proud."

That seemed to have a positive effect, and Abuela's expression softened slightly.

"You see that you do," she said firmly. "We have seen what happens when members of this family offend the miracle. I would hate to see your room start to change because of this..."

"That had nothing to do with anyone offending the miracle, Mamá," her mom said somewhat defensively.

Abuela flashed her eyes, "I suggest you stop speaking right now Julieta. I thought I'd made myself clear on that topic."

Luisa wished they could have continued that discussion. Rooms changing? The miracle being offended? That sounded like something Luisa needed to know. Abuela had made it quite clear that it was not a conversation to be continued, but it got Luisa wondering if something similar had happened before. She decided to try and ask, being careful to keep it indirect.

"So... is this the first time anyone's been hurt by our gifts?"

"Yes it is!" Abuela answered decisively.

Her mom didn't look so convinced.

"That's not strictly true though, is it?" she said, this time directly confronting Abuela. Luisa had never seen her usually passive mom like that. "Have you forgotten the time one of our gifts got a man so badly beaten he almost died?" Abuela looked furious at being reminded of the event, but Luisa's mom continued. "Then how about the time several people were hurt by hailstones the size of rocks falling from the sky? I might have been too if it hadn't been for..."

She finally stopped herself and instead turned to Luisa. "So no, this is not the first time something like this has happened. Our gifts are powerful, and there's always a risk of them causing harm instead of good. It's for us to do our best to prevent it."

"You need to do more than your best," Abuela said firmly. "There is no room for mistakes when it comes to your gifts. We can not slip up, and we certainly can't hurt anyone. You have done unthinkable damage to this family today, Luisa. As if we weren't hurt enough right now."

Luisa was heartbroken. To hear that she had not only disappointed Abuela, but had also harmed the family, was the worse pain of her young life. She didn't have time to reply, however, because another voice joined the conversation.

"It's because of me, isn't it? That the family's hurt?" Mirabel sniffed from the bottom step. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she seemed weary and listless, as though all the colour and energy had been drained from her.

Luisa felt hopeless. She desperately wanted to protect Mirabel, to make everything okay. That was what big sisters were for, after all. But this wasn't something she, or anyone, could help with. What she could do, however, was shield her from the rumours and protect her from the truth. She could ensure that Mirabel continued to live in a world where the Madrigals were loved by all. A world where every day was a wondrous adventure in a magical house with an incredible family. That's all Mirabel would ever need to know.

xxx

Present day...

Luisa put the last of the donkeys in the enclosure as quickly as she could. Her heart was pounding as a feeling of panic gripped her throat.

Mirabel had continued hounding her with questions, trying to find out what she knew about the miracle being in danger, and Luisa, caught up in a cocktail of emotions had let her guard down and said too much. It seemed innocent enough at the time. She was only trying to be helpful. But she had forgotten a vital detail. She needed to intercept Mirabel before she did something stupid.

She took a quick head count of the donkeys.

"Are you kidding me!" she yelled as she realised one must have slipped away. "Not the time."

"Hm!"

Luisa turned when she heard a familiar squeak. Dolores stood clutching a pile of sheet music in her arms. Antonio was beside her with a family of coatis at his feet and his toucan friend, Pico, on his arm.

"Dolores!" Luisa called out hurriedly. "I think I've done something really dumb."

"You mean, telling Mirabel to go to Bruno's tower?"

"You heard that?" Luisa asked, the shame adding extra fuel to the raging panic.

She noticed that Dolores didn't look too concerned and all. "You realise what this means?" she asked, her voice breaking now. "I've put her in serious danger."

Dolores chuckled. "Oh Luisa, I've been up there loads of times. I know it's tall, but it's quite safe."

"No. It's not. Our dads went up there once. After… that night. They said something about a bridge being destroyed…"

Dolores's eyes went wide at that. "The bridge? That's right at…. You don't think she'd try to get across another way, do you?"

Finally, Dolores seemed to understand the urgency.

"It's Mirabel. Of course she will."

Dolores looked frantic. "We-we've gotta do something. If she falls, no one would even—"

"She's probably already at the tower by now," Luisa groaned, not wanting to contemplate what Dolores had been about to say.

"I can send Pico," Antonio suggested, far calmer than Luisa and Dolores. "He'll let us know she's safe."

Pico flapped his wings and cawed, then Antonio smiled broadly at Luisa before adding, "And I can ask that donkey to come back too, if you like?"