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Poppy craned her neck to see out the back window, squinting, and recoiled slightly—the hills where she’d been parked were so far away she could barely make out their rise. This was how far she would have had to crawl?

She could have done it. Maybe. But thank god she hadn’t had to.

“Mom,” she said quietly, then again more loudly when she realized the mariachi was drowning her out. “Later on, when all of this is through, I want you to tell me exactly how you and Rai ended up riding to my rescue like the cavalry. Thank you.”

Her mom laughed. “I’m not entirely sure myself. Your Rai is a force of nature.” She cast a swift glance over her shoulder before returning her attention to the road again. “Also apparently not in Seattle,” she added pointedly.

“He was supposed to be.” Poppy gazed down at him again, stroking his crinkly dry hair. Had he gotten paler? Or was her vision just wobbling? “Maybe not Seattle, but…somewhere not here.”

“We are also,” her mother said in a firmer voice, “going to discuss what exactly constitutes an appropriate note when one is going out into the desert to paint alone. Which I would rather you not do in the first place.”

“Yes, Mom,” Poppy mumbled. She looked at the phone in her hand to keep from wallowing in guilt, sighing. Half of the notifications were probably from her mother, and the other half were probably spam. Nothing she needed to worry about now.

She laid her head back and closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of Rai’s faint breaths and the sound of mariachi lull her into a trance.

It wasn’t a pleasant one—pain stabbed through her as they bumped over the uneven dirt road and even on the smoother paved highway they eventually reached, and she felt sick and hot, and her phone kept vibrating intermittently, and she was dimly terrified that the faint rise and fall under her hand would suddenly fall and not rise again, but as long as it kept on, as long as he was moving and they were moving, she had hope.

That was more than she’d had less than an hour ago.

“Poppy.” Her mother’s voice roused her from her fugue state. “We’re here.”

Poppy started up. “Is there a hose? See if there’s a hose.” Rai didn’t seem to have moved since she’d last looked at him, but he was definitely paler, and his breaths were fainter. She stroked her thumb over his dry lips, feeling the flow of air like a mere whisper.

“There’s a hose,” her mother said fiercely. “There it is.”

The car bumped a little more, turned, and halted so abruptly Poppy almost slid off the seat. There was a jerk as her mother shifted into park.

Poppy caught frantically at her mom’s shoulder. “Don’t turn the car off!” There was no guarantee it would start again. She would never forgive herself if they wasted Rai’s sacrifice on a half-rescue that still left them all stranded, albeit in a much safer place.

“I won’t. I won’t. I won’t.” Her mother was shaking again, spasmodically, as if she’d been holding the tremors in for miles and they were all coming out at once.

“I’ll get the hose. What do I do with the hose?

Does he need to drink it? Can he— He just stuck his hand in the sink and soaked it up. Does he have to be awake to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Poppy said. “Just get it. Maybe spray him. Us. Or give it to me.” She could see the hose now, just a few feet away.

She hit the button to lower her window. The hot air from outside went to war with the air conditioning with Poppy’s face on the front lines; she shifted her upper body away from the window and stuck her hand outside. Or draped it out. She was still weak.

Her mom nodded sharply, breathing deep. The tremors slowed.

“Yes. Yes. That’s for heat stroke. Spraying with a garden hose.

That’s good. That’s what the websites say.

” She got out of the car and hurried the few steps to the hose, uncoiling just enough loops to get the nozzle to Poppy’s outstretched hand.

Poppy took it, waited for her mother to turn the old-fashioned round handle on the spigot, and squeezed the trigger of the nozzle, aiming the spray at the center of Rai’s back.

The water came out with more force than she had expected, and she had no strength to resist it; it rocked her back against the car door, and she braced for splashback.

It didn’t come. The water that hit Rai’s back disappeared as completely as if it had gone into a wormhole, though he still did not move.

“Is it helping?” Her mother was hovering outside the window, shifting from foot to foot. “Don’t forget you. You need water, too. ”

Poppy turned the spray on herself, dousing her head then spraying her throat and chest. The spray was harsh, especially on her bruises, and the water was warm but still refreshing.

She looked down at Rai’s head in her lap; splashes and rivulets of water were flowing and bouncing off of her, landing on his still, drawn face and vanishing.

It was fascinating and frightening all at once.

She turned the stream back toward him, running the spray all along his body.

The air conditioning chilled her drenched shirt and hair, and she shivered, not sure she could trust her own senses to know if the tremors meant she was back to a normal temperature or even more feverish.

Her mother was pacing back and forth next to the car. “Mom,” she said, reaching out to catch at her sleeve. “We should drink something. You and me.”

Her mom drew herself up. “Yes. Yes, water and…and Gatorade. And ice. You need ice for your foot. But wrapped in a towel. Will they have towels?”

Poppy nodded. “My wallet’s in the glove compartment. And they probably do.” That was their grocery money for the week, of course, but she’d figure something out later. Surviving was first.

As her mom collected the wallet and hurried off to the shop, Poppy kept feeding water into Rai’s skin, spraying his wings for good measure.

Was his color improving? She couldn’t tell.

He was still absorbing water as fast as she could spray it, though she did pause briefly when she belatedly noticed the outline of his cell phone in his back pocket.

She dragged it out and set it aside, hoping that the water spray hadn't damaged it. Wincing slightly when she saw the rhinestone poppies of the case. They made me think of you , he’d said, as if it were something as obvious as water is wet .

“Well, here you are,” came Ofelia’s rich voice from outside her window.

Poppy jerked her head toward the sound automatically and fumbled the nozzle, spraying the inside of the windshield and the floor before she got it aimed back at Rai. A dozen confused half-questions tangled in her head, but all that came out was a strangled gasp.

Ofelia nodded her head gravely, as if Poppy had greeted her with great courtesy, and gazed past Poppy at Rai, her golden eyes affectionate.

“And to think,” she said with deliberate lightness, “it was not even two days ago that I complimented him on his wisdom and restraint. He must have taken it as a challenge.”

“How did you—” Poppy shook her head. “Never mind. Is this… Will he be okay?”

Ofelia gave the barest shake of her head.

“I do not know. Never have I known one of water to challenge the desert so. The rumors of his journey are already ringing of legend among the fae who helped me to find you both. But you are doing all that can be done.” She waved her hand at the stream of water that Rai was absorbing.

“If anything will restore him, it is his element. As to whether he will awaken, whether he will be himself if he does…” She shrugged faintly, though her face wore compassion.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Poppy heaved a shaky breath.

“A bath would be best,” Ofelia said. “To surround him with his element. That is how he has survived to this day. But as it is many miles back to his rooms—”

“You like the red, don’t— Oh! Hello!” Poppy’s mother came into view, loaded down with shopping bags and a large bag of crushed ice. “I have ice.”

Ofelia bowed her head in greeting. “You must be Jen. I am Ofelia.”

“Pleased to meet you.” She looked past Ofelia. “We need to get ice on your ankle. And on your body, as well. I Googled while I was inside. Armpits and neck are most effective.”

Poppy’s mind had been whirling, still muddled but clearer now than it had been.

She waved to regain Ofelia’s attention. “Would this work for a tub, the…the…” She couldn’t remember the word for it; she pointed downward.

“This, the foot place in the car. If I put plastic in it so it holds water, would that work?”

Ofelia considered it. “It would be a tight fit. Ah, but I may be able to assist in a small way. Your pardon.” She reached into the car past Poppy and swirled her hand over Rai’s back. His wings shuddered and shivered and swirled away into nothingness.

Poppy watched in fascination. “I knew Rai could do that for himself, but he never said—”

“Despite what he believes,” Ofelia said with a faint smirk, “there is much that Rai does not know. Come, let us see what we can do.”

Poppy herself was not able to do much besides cradle Rai on her lap, drink Gatorade, and offer suggestions, but once her mother had arranged ice packs to her satisfaction, she and Ofelia worked together, using the tarp to make a nest in the footwell that they carefully lowered Rai into, spraying water in until his absorption of the water slowed, then finally stopped.

“It will not last,” Ofelia said. “But if we add water when we may, it will serve to transport him back to his rooms.”

“Not there,” Poppy murmured. “That place is scary.”

“Your home, then,” Ofelia said. “I will fetch some jugs for further replenishment.” She swept off into the store .