Milla's childhood forged her like a river carving through stone. Loss weathered her. Joe's meat-fisted parenting polished her. She carried his bluster and his boldness. Her honey eyes dared, sparked, and amused when she toyed with Alan and Emma like pawns in a game only she understood.
Alan felt it—her energy—crawling under his skin. Every morning, she bumped into him in doorways, grinning. He didn't react; only a light breeze ruffled her hair. She grinned wider. "That's all?" she teased, mocking and daring him to respond. Alan remained silent, though the faintest twitch played at the corners of his lips.
Emma was quiet, soft-spoken, and earnest. She didn't protest when Milla undid her braid—Alan's handiwork. "This? A braid? My dad ties his boots better!" Milla exclaimed and rebraided it wild and loose. "There. Now, you're a princess!" Emma only giggled and shook her head, causing the loose ends to come apart.
Today, Milla had outdone herself. A mudslide spiraled from the roof. It was her latest creation—a masterpiece. She stood, chest puffed, hands on hips, dirt streaking her clothes. She had that grin on her face—that proud and mischievous grin she wore so often.
"That thing's a death trap," Alan whispered to Emma's ear. His breath tickled. She giggled nervously.
"Quit stalling!" Milla barked, perched halfway up the slide with the ease of a cat. "Alan! You test it!" Her honey eyes gleamed with a dare.
Alan glanced up, then looked at Emma. Her fingers fidgeted nervously. "I can cushion your fall if—"
"Let him eat dirt!" Milla cut her off, jumped down, and shoved Alan toward the ladder. "C'mon, big shot. Show me what you've got!"
Alan muttered something inaudible, clearly annoyed. Yet backing down from this challenge was not an option. If not him, Emma would be the lab rat. And Emma...
He climbed up the ladder with a deliberate slowness. Emma frowned. "You didn't have to push him."
Milla threw her arms wide. "Push him? Please. He's tough! Right, Alan?" He didn't reply.
Alan sighed as he reached the top, catching the warm afternoon breeze. His gaze dropped, and he paused—not out of hesitation but with purpose. The height didn't scare him. He was pondering over a gift for Milla, a token of gratitude for crafting this slide for them.
He smiled, then slid. Whoosh. Wind cushioned his fall as his feet hit the ground. Crack. Crash. The slide crumbled—an entire afternoon of Milla's labor reduced to rubble. Thinking back, she'd probably even skipped lunch to finish it.
"What did you do?!" Milla screeched.
Alan dusted himself off, wearing that calm, maddening smile—the one that always softened Lix's scoldings—the same smile his father used to wear. "Next time, try making something that holds together."
"Next time?! I'll do it now!" Milla stomped, and the ground trembled. A spike of earth shot toward Alan. He stepped aside with an effortless dodge.
Emma rushed to his side, brushing dust off his sleeve. "Are you okay?"
Alan smirked. "Just a scratch."
Milla rolled her eyes. "Enough of the lovey-dovey stuff! Mud wrestling!" She charged forward, limbs flailing as clumps of dirt scattered from her heels, her scream resounding like a war cry.
Thud! Splash! She slammed into Alan, splattering mud all over. They toppled, Alan twisting mid-fall—splash. Milla's laughter rang loud as she pinned him down. "Ha! Gotcha!" Dirt spilled with her triumphant scream.
Alan bucked. Whoosh. His gust sent Milla tumbling backward. She rolled, scrambled to her feet, and charged again.
Whoosh. Thud! She tumbled.
"That's all you've got?" Alan returned her tease, wiping mud off his chin, though the smear only worsened.
Milla growled and leaped. He sidestepped, and she slid face-first into the mud—SPLAT. She spat out dirt, hissing, "cheap trick!"
"You make it too easy," he mocked before extending his hand toward her.
Milla's grin widened. She reached for his hand, then swiped at his legs, her earth magic forming a slippery ridge beneath him. Alan lost his footing, dropping to one knee. "Cheater!" he barked.
"Strategy!" Milla shot back, pouncing. She landed on his back, arms wrapping around his neck like a boa constrictor.
Alan grunted, trying to pull off her arms, but she clamped onto him tighter than a monkey clinging to a banana tree. He stood, lifting her along. "You're heavier than I thought. You should skip dinner, too."
"Shut it!" She tightened her grip, laughing breathlessly.
Emma lingered nearby, bewildered, torn between scolding and giggling. "Be careful! You'll—"
—Whoosh. Alan's wind swirled Milla into the air, her arms flailing. THUD! A heavy fall, headfirst into a puff of dirt. Her laughter died. She lay still.
Alan counted his breath and waited for her to grow bored with the act. She never did.
He shifted closer, arms crossed, crunching over her. "Had enough?"
No answer.
"I told you guys to be careful!" Emma scolded, hurrying to check on the injured.
Alan turned, leaving his back unguarded. "I—"
"Never!" Milla sprang up, tackling him into the mud. She smeared dirt onto his cheek. "Taste that!"
Alan groaned. "You're insufferable."
"And you're dumb," she shot back, fingers digging into his hair.
Alan grabbed her ears—
"Enough! You're really going to hurt each other." Emma scolded, imitating Lix's angry tone. Too good of an impression.
They froze, two mud figures grinning eerily. Then they turned, eyes fixed on Emma with hunting stares.
"No," she cried, shaking her head, backing away. "NO!"
Too late. They lunged. Emma squealed, twisting desperately in an attempt to escape, but failed. They dragged her into the mud. Her white dress turned brown. She struggled, but the mud only grew on her. Soon, her scream turned into amused laughter—three children laughing, unbothered by the fifth clinging to their skin.
From the kitchen window, Joe wiped his hands and watched. Milla's laughter—rare as July snow—now filled the house daily. The siblings had softened her without dulling her fire. Joe smiled, turning back to the counter. Until—
—Bang! Clang! Crash... Clatter! Rattle!
The shack crumbled in the backyard, Joe's armor and tools clattering away.
Joe's voice roared through the walls, shaking the kitchen cabinets. "MILLA!"