The train rattled its way through winter, the glass humming with frost.

  Outside, the world was a sheet of white—fields buried under snow, pines powdered like someone had dusted them with icing sugar. The sky hung low and heavy. Everything looked cold enough to snap in half.

  Inside the train, warmth pooled thickly around them.

  Francis sat close to the window, bundled in a black sweater and his usual grey beanie pulled low over his light, golden blonde hair. His posture was proper, but his face had the faint anxious look of someone who's going to be late for something.

  Across from him, Trey lounged like royalty in a dark-blue coat that looked far too expensive to be worn so carelessly. He had one arm thrown across the back of the seat, boots splayed out with complete disregard for etiquette or space.

  Luna hugged Bridget's bright, too-cheerful coat tighter around herself. It was the warmest thing she owned—Bridget had practically thrown it at her with the words "You need color before you turn into a pine tree."

  Around her neck sat Noel's old, worn scarf. Soft from years of use. Smelling faintly of lavender soap.

  She touched it sometimes without thinking.

  Her cheek rested against the cold window, watching snow blur and smear into motion.

  Six weeks of winter break lay ahead.

  Six weeks away from Elkington.

  And somehow she wasn't spending them alone.

  Her mind drifted back to the night before—

  Pine Hollow's common room blazed with firelight, the stone hearth throwing orange glow over cluttered tables and sprawling couches. Someone had dragged extra blankets down, someone else had abandoned half a chess game, and a third someone (Trey) had burned marshmallows directly over the flames until Ermin confiscated the skewers.

  Most of the house had migrated to the warmth, scattered in loose clusters.

  "So, term break, going anywhere this time?"

  Reid tilted her head up from her book, just enough to look at Eve, who had cocooned herself in a blanket on the couch, only her eyes visible above the edge.

  Eve blinked once. "Nope. Staying here. This is my home."

  She said it so simply that no one questioned it. A few of the Pines just nodded. Pine Hollow was drafty and terrible and loud, but... yeah. Somehow, it was home.

  Trey sprawled across the hearth rug like a cat in front of the fire, hands behind his head.

  "Just to remind you," he announced, "it's my turn to take Francis home this time."

  Reid thunked her book down into her lap. "Blink twice if you need help."

  Francis instantly blinked twice.

  Luna snorted. Bluebell cackled. Abel looked mildly impressed.

  Trey pushed himself up on his elbows, frowning in wounded offense. "Unbelievable. I offer you a cultural experience—"

  "You offer chaos," Francis corrected.

  Trey sighed dramatically and slumped back down. "Fine. Go with Reid. I'll just... take care of the flu myself."

  Francis's head snapped up. "The what?"

  Trey looked down, voice suddenly small, finger tracing an invisible line in the rug. "My mother. She sent me a letter this morning. Said she's sick."

  Francis straightened so fast his notebook slid off his lap. "What kind of sick? Fever? Cough? How long has she—"

  "I don't know," Trey cut him off, eyes suspiciously earnest. "The letter was really short. I think she fell asleep writing it."

  "Oh no," Francis breathed, already halfway to his feet. "If she's that fatigued— I need to prepare something."

  He muttered anxiously as he strode for the stairs.

  Reid watched him go, then turned her gaze back to Trey.

  "Your mother isn't really sick, is she,"

  Trey dropped the act instantly, grinned. "Strong as a horse."

  Reid stared. "He's going to strangle you when he finds out."

  "And by then, the three of us will have had so much fun it'll be worth it." Trey said cheerfully.

  "Three?" Reid asked slowly. "You, Francis, and...?"

  "Luna's coming too," Trey said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  Luna, curled up in one of the armchairs with a blanket over her knees, looked up so fast the world tilted. "Me? Since when?"

  No one answered.

  Because for a second, her heart did something stupid—tight and painful and light all at once.

  She had already quietly decided she'd just stay at Pine Hollow. The idea of going back to Upperbeak sat in her stomach like a stone. Winter break meant people going home, meeting families, complaining about cousins. That was... not her.

  She'd expected the usual: people leaving, doors closing, the echo of other people's plans.

  She wasn't used to people making space for her.

  Or choosing her.

  Trey sat up, elbows on knees, gaze steady."Since the day I met you."

  "That," Luna said carefully, "sounds like something I'll regret later."

  Reid flipped her book open again. "You know you can regret it now, right?"

  Bridget, curled up on the rug, scribbling in what seemed to be a blueprint, added without looking up. "You're going with Trey to his hometown. Regret is implied."

  Trey waved them all off and stood, clapping Luna on the shoulder. "Regret is temporary. Adventure is forever. Go pack up."

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "Pack what?" Luna asked, brain still catching up.

  "Not too many jackets," he said. "It's hot where we're going."

  "Hot? In winter?"

  Trey's grin turned wicked. "Yup."

  She stared at him. "I'm going to hell?"

  "Accurate," Bridget murmured.

  "Scarlet Dust," Trey corrected. "But close enough."

  A tug on her scarf snapped Luna back to the present.

  The firelight folded itself into snow.

  Trey held the end of the scarf between two fingers like it personally offended him. "Where did this hideous thing come from?"

  Luna rolled her eyes. "Francis took it from my old house."

  Trey inspected it like a relic. "How old is it, a century?"

  "I don't know. It wasn't mine."

  "It isn't yours?" Francis asked, voice pitched.

  Trey froze. "Then whose is it?"

  "Noel's, a boy in the house." Luna said simply.

  Trey slowly turned his head toward Francis. "...What now? Why did you take it? Give it back!"

  Francis stiffened, cheeks pulling tight with guilt. "Shut up. And you know damn well I can't give it back."

  Both boys went quiet.

  Trey cleared his throat a little too loudly. "Very well! I'll buy you a new one so you don't have to suffer with this... rag."

  "I'm not suffering—"

  "IT'S SETTLED!"

  Francis sighed. "He'll buy you three. Just accept it."

  Trey shoved him lightly with a boot. Francis shoved back, the two of them bickering automatically.

  Luna looked out the window again.

  The snow was thinning.

  White turning to pale brown.

  Pale brown deepening to rust-red.

  The landscape shifted, harsher, drier, pulling them toward something unfamiliar.

  Scarlet Dust.

  She swallowed.

  She was really going.

  The station was a small spread of stone and sand, wind tugging grains across the platform. Heat radiated softly despite the season, like the land itself couldn't forget it was a desert.

  Waiting for them was a glossy deep green carriage marked with the Lancaster insignia—a golden sun split by a black compass rose, wave-lines beneath.

  Trey grinned. "Home sweet home."

  Inside the carriage, padded in deep velvet, Luna sat between the two boys, coat and scarf clutched around her.

  She tried to picture Trey's home.

  Something cozy. Warm. A little chaotic. Probably filled with horses.

  What came into view instead made her mouth fall open.

  A manor.

  An actual manor.

  Standing in the desert like it had refused to obey nature.

  Where there should have been sand, there were trees — tall, leafy, and absurdly green.

  A small river curved through the property like it was painted in. The air even smelled like flowers.

  "How—" Luna breathed. "How is there more green here than the entire village?"

  Trey puffed up, proud. "We irrigate. Lancaster's invention."

  Francis muttered, "You didn't invent anything."

  The second Trey stepped out of the carriage, two bodies launched at him.

  "TRAIN-TRAIN!!"

  He was tackled straight into the sand. Clyde and Hector— his older brothers– identical chaos in human form, latched onto him like starving barn cats.

  Luna stumbled back, eyes wide.

  Francis casually stepped beside her and murmured, "Get used to it. Quick."

  Trey wheezed from the ground. "I MISSED—YOU—TOO—"

  "Did not!" Clyde yelled.

  "You absolutely did," Hector added.

  Before Luna could process the sibling pile, a slim, elegant woman swept out of the doorway—Grace Lancaster, jet-black braid swinging, smile bright enough to ignite the desert.

  She went straight for Francis, hugging him so tightly his beanie nearly flew off.

  "Nice to see you, Grace," Francis managed. "But—aren't you supposed to be on bed rest?"

  Grace blinked. "Bed rest? Why dear? I'm not tired."

  Francis's expression shifted—sharp, slow realization—then narrowed into pure murderous calm.

  "Someone told me," he said dangerously, relief threading through his voice, "that you caught the flu."

  Grace gasped, and turned to the pile of her own sons.

  "TREY!"

  Trey froze mid-struggle. "...Mama?"

  "Next time, inform me first so I can act ill!"

  Francis's temple throbbed visibly.

  Grace—unbothered—turned to Luna and swept her into a warm, unexpected hug.

  Luna froze.

  No one's mother had ever hugged her like this.

  It was terrifying.

  And wonderful.

  "And you must be Luna," Grace said. "We're very glad you're here."

  Luna blinked.

  Glad? They don't even know me...

  But the way she said it felt honest.

  Clyde, still pinning Trey to the ground, lifted a hand in greeting. "Hey. Nice to finally meet you."

  Trey sputtered, face half in the sand. "You already met her!"

  "And you had to ruin that for me! I was trying to be polite."

  Hector snorted. "Since when?"

  Clyde elbowed him. "Since now. Shut up."

  Grace clapped her hands lightly. "Boys. Behave. You'll scare her."

  Luna wasn't scared—living in Pine Hollow made her immune—just... confused, at how welcome she suddenly was.

  Francis murmured, like someone who'd once stood in this exact spot, "This is normal for them. Just play along."

  Luna still wasn't sure that helped.

  By the time they reached the dining hall, the three Lancaster boys had been herded away by Grace with the force of a commander sending troops to battle.

  "Shower. All of you," she'd ordered. "You're tracking half the desert into my floors."

  Now, cleaned and only slightly less chaotic, the brothers stumbled into the vast dining room one by one, hair damp, still arguing about whose fault it was that Trey ended up face-first in the sand.

  The older boys insisted it was Trey's.

  The table waiting for them was enormous—long carved wood, covered in platters of roasted vegetables, spiced meats, fresh bread, and bowls of fruits Luna had only ever seen in markets she couldn't afford to buy from. Lanterns hung above, casting soft red-gold light across everything.

  Luna sank into a seat beside Francis, feeling small but oddly... safe.

  The man at the end of the table, Howard Lancaster, rose to greet her– tall, broad-shouldered, grey eyes sharp but kind. The sort of man who probably broke hearts effortlessly in his youth—and still could, if Grace ever permitted it.

  He had Trey's grin. Or rather, Trey had his.

  "Luna Atkins! Trey's been talking our ears off about you." He said warmly.

  Trey nearly choked. "Dad—"

  Howard waved him off. "Relax. I behaved exactly like you when I was your age."

  He shot Grace a nostalgic smile. "Ask your mother."

  Grace rolled her eyes but her lips twitched. "I do not miss that era."

  She then floated around the table with elegance that didn't match her fiery personality at all—her blue eyes bright, laughing loudly as she scolded her sons and placed plates in front of Luna as if she'd known her for years.

  "Eat, dear. You're too thin. Francis, make sure she finishes."

  "Why is that my job?"

  "Because you listen when I say things," Grace declared.

  Francis opened his mouth to argue, then shut it quietly. Luna tried not to laugh. Her eyes darted to the opposite side of the table where Clyde and Hector sat flanking Trey, one on each side.

  They looked older, perhaps in their mid-20s, the prime of their confidence and strength. Not bulky, but sharp. Handsome even.

  Yet the moment their eyes fell on their little brother, they lit up like puppies.

  "Train-Train! Sit by me—no—here—Mama, tell him to sit here—"

  Trey groaned, but he sat anyway.

  Luna wasn't sure when it happened—one moment she was cutting into her steak, and the next, the entire table had exploded into overlapping conversations.

  The family spoke loudly, over each other, across the table, sometimes even switching topics mid-sentence. Grace insisted everyone take second servings. Howard carved meat while recounting the time Trey accidentally set a stable wall on fire. Clyde and Hector argued about who missed Trey more. Trey attempted to defend himself between bites.

  Luna tried to keep up.

  Francis leaned in, "Don't panic. You're doing great."

  "I'm not panicking," she lied as Howard passed her a bowl of something spiced and orange.

  Grace added more to her plate anyway.

  Clyde asked her what classes she liked.

  Hector asked if Trey still bullied Francis at school.

  Howard asked if she ever rode horses.

  Trey told him to stop interrogating her.

  Grace told Trey to stop talking with his mouth full.

  Francis smirked.

  It was loud.

  It was chaotic.

  It was... warm.

  "So I was saying— oh! Luna, try that! No, not that, that one. The one that looks like a rock. It's not a rock. Probably." Trey pointed at one of the plates in front of her.

  "Probably?" Francis echoed, horrified.

  Trey shrugged. "It tasted like a rock when I was little, but that might've been an actual rock. I used to eat— you know what, never mind."

  Hector didn't even look up from his plate. "It was indeed a rock."

  Trey blinked. "How do you know?"

  "Because I fed it to you."

  Clyde nodded in solemn agreement. "He did. You cried for twenty minutes."

  "I did not!" Trey snapped.

  "You absolutely did," Hector said.

  "Why shouldn't I? My tooth fell off!"

  Grace sighed. "I turn my back for one second... wait—Howard, weren't you there too?"

  Howard didn't even hesitate. "Oh, absolutely. I was watching. It was hilarious."

  Luna, who had already stuck her fork into the suspicious rock-looking dish, slowly raised it.

  "So... is this edible or not?"

  Everyone froze.

  Trey shot upright. "DON'T—!"

  Hector shrugged. "It's edible now. That one's food."

  Clyde leaned over to inspect it. "Probably."

  Grace swooped in, plucked it from Luna's hand, and swapped it with something much safer-looking.

  "Here, dear. Try this instead. If you listen to these three, you'll end up gnawing on gravel."

  Howard nodded. "Family tradition."

  Trey pointed his fork at all of them. "You people are unhinged."

  Luna looked around the table, then at them.

  "...I suddenly understand your entire personality."

  Trey gasped. "Luna. Not you too."

  And the table burst into laughter again—warm, overwhelming, bright.

  Luna let the noise wash over her, something loosening quietly inside her chest.