Lindy Ginger came to Treeland to be a healer again, and on her first house call the child she was watching started throwing up inside a blanket fort. She had come north after burying a husband, a stillborn daughter, and three pregnancies that never made it that far. She picked Treeland off a map because no one there knew her name. She unpacked her bag in a small clinic and told herself she would start with easy work. Wound care. Broken bones. Nothing that could break her again. The house belonged to Kaya Bluebird and her two younger sisters. Lindy had already checked Kaya's pulse and the color under her fingernails. Kaya's stomach was knotted tight with worry over the girls in the fort, and worry was making her sick. Lindy pointed her down the hall. "Lie down," Lindy said. "I've got them." Kaya hesitated at the doorway, one hand flat against her belly. Then she went. The fort filled most of the front room, a patchwork of quilts and pillows stitched together with cushions. Lindy sat cross-legged outside it and listened. For a while there was only breathing. Then a groan. Then the sharp wet sound she knew. She lifted the front flap. Joy Ruby was curled on her side in a soaked shirt, dark hair stuck to her cheek. Elleanor Fuschia sat up beside her, denim jacket streaked, staring at her own hands like she couldn't figure out where to put them. "Sorry," Elleanor said. Flat. No follow-up. Joy didn't lift her head. "Bucket was too far." Lindy climbed in on her knees. She pressed the back of her hand to Joy's forehead, then Elleanor's. Warm, not burning. She checked Joy's pulse at the wrist. Steady. She counted breaths. "Neither of you is getting worse," she said. "Your stomachs are empty and angry. We're going to settle them." "How," Elleanor said. "Bath. Warm water, buttermilk, lavender, watermint. You'll sit in it. You'll drink small sips of the mint water. Your stomachs will quiet down." Joy opened one eye. "That works?" "On me it did." She drew the bath herself. She poured in the buttermilk, crushed the lavender between her palms, floated the watermint on top. She helped Elleanor out of the jacket, then eased Joy up by the shoulders. She kept her voice low and her hands sure. She did not think about the boy. She did not think about the family who used to know her name. When both girls were in the water, Joy exhaled for what sounded like the first time all day. Elleanor closed her eyes. Lindy sat on the tile beside the tub. Down the hall, Kaya was quiet. In the tub, the sisters were quiet. For the first time since she'd crossed into Treeland, Lindy's hands were doing what she came here to do. Then she heard Kaya cough, and the cough did not stop.

Lindy left the sisters soaking and followed the cough down the hall. Kaya was curled on her side on the bed, one hand at her throat, the other pressed to her stomach. The cough had stopped, but her breathing was shallow and her mouth was tight. Lindy knelt beside her. She pressed the back of her hand to Kaya's forehead. Cool. She checked her pulse. Steady. "No fever," Lindy said. "Sit up for me." Kaya pushed up on one elbow. Lindy helped her the rest of the way, one hand under her shoulder. Kaya swayed, then steadied. "Show me where it hurts." Kaya moved her hand down and to the left, just under her ribs. Lindy laid two fingers there and pressed, slow. Kaya flinched. She yelped, turned her head, and coughed hard into her sleeve. What came up was thin and sour, streaked pink. Not blood. Lindy knew the difference. She had watched enough of both. She reached for the small bin by the bed and slid it under Kaya's chin until the coughing stopped. Then she wiped Kaya's mouth with the edge of a clean cloth. "That's reflux," Lindy said. "Not blood. The pink is from irritation, not a bleed." Kaya's eyes stayed on her. Waiting. "I think you have a couple of small ulcers," Lindy said. "Your sisters too. Theirs aren't as bad. None of them are the kind that need cutting or heavy medicine." Kaya nodded once. "Drink water. A lot of it. Broth if you can keep it down. Rest as much as the girls will let you. Eat gentle things — oats, soft eggs, plain bread. No coffee, no citrus, nothing sharp. You'll all be fine." "How long," Kaya said. "A few weeks if you rest. Longer if you don't." Kaya lay back on the pillow. She looked at the ceiling. "I thought it was my heart." "It's your stomach. It's been your stomach." Kaya closed her eyes. Her shoulders dropped a full inch. Lindy pulled the blanket up over her. "I'll check on the girls," Lindy said. "You sleep." Kaya nodded without opening her eyes. Lindy stood in the doorway a moment. Three sisters. Same illness, different sizes. No fevers. No bleeds. Nothing she had missed. Her hands were not shaking. She noticed that. She walked back down the hall. The bathwater was still warm. Joy had her cheek on the tub's rim, half asleep. Elleanor lifted her head. "Kaya?" Elleanor said. "Same as you two," Lindy said. "She's resting." Elleanor watched her face for a long second, then let her head drop back against the tile. Lindy sat down on the floor beside the tub. She had come to Treeland for work she could finish. Today she had finished it. She let herself sit with that before she started thinking about what came next — supplies, a follow-up, telling the clinic she would be back tomorrow with three names on her list.