As the first light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the walls, I woke up in my bed. The backroom, which had been transformed into a makeshift sickbay, was filled with the soft snores and murmurs of the wounded. Aera and Haruko had done their best to make it comfortable, using blankets Minho had scavenged from the ruins outside. It worked, but Barton's irritation was evident in the way he paced around. He hated sharing his precious room with others, though he kept his complaints to himself – probably out of fear of Mira's wrath. Most of the burden had fallen on his daughter's shoulders after all.