"Shhhh. It's okay."
It was not okay. Where was Papa? Where was Mum? The batling writhed in discomfort, too hot under the strange covers and too cold to fling them free.
"Little Belfry, don't fret so much."
A new voice. He knew her name. Whimpering, Belfry opened her eyes, tears leaking from their corners. "Papa," she cried.
The two hazy silhouettes hesitated. "Your papa is gone, little one," one said. "You're sick. Please just rest, and we'll figure out what to do after."
Gone? What did they mean, gone? If her mum and papa were gone, they'd be back soon. Right?
She was enveloped in strange scents and warm fur. They were gone and she was wrung out, too tired and sick and exhausted to think anymore.