I cannot sleep. My mind is too busy, my need for more answers too powerful. I toss and turn on the pile of old blankets and burlap Poppy guided me to. She's been quiet and reserved since we returned from the hoarder's warehouse. I suppose I can't blame her.

When I do doze off at last, I'm plagued by nightmares, snippets of memories, the ache of longing tinged with the terror of the unknown. I am back in the lab, I know it is the place I'm from. But it is damaged, broken, aged ...