Lily opened her eyes and saw gray skin on both hands. No tingle had warned her. No slow creep up her arm like the time in math class. She sat up fast in bed. Her whole body had turned overnight. She pressed her palms together and felt nothing but cold. Somewhere down the hall, footsteps stopped outside her door. She needed a doctor who could fix this for good. She slid out of bed and reached for her hoodie. She pulled the hood low and crept downstairs. The front door was blocked by a wall of thick iron links, frozen stiff with ice and snow. Someone had stacked it there in the night. Her mother stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, eyes red. "Not today," she said. "Not like that." Lily yanked at a chain. It held. She backed away, gray hands shaking, and ran for the back door instead. The lock clicked open. She stepped out into the cold alone, her search for a cure now a secret she had to keep from her own house. On the back step sat a wooden box, wrapped in icy rope and crusted with snow. A folded note was tucked under the rope. Lily pulled it free. The handwriting was her mother's. "Please come back. I packed what you need." Inside the box she found bandages, gloves, cash, and a small folded map. One building was circled in red ink. Lily stared at the circle. Her mother knew. Her mother had always known. She zipped the supplies into her hoodie and started walking, gray hands buried deep in her pockets.