The Sisters of Straygarden Place

muffled with the dogs’ black fur. But if the droomhunds weren’t brushed, the fur would prickle the insides of the girls’ heads, turning their dreams sharp as hat pins and making their thoughts scatter like dropped marbles. The softer the droomhunds’ fur was, the more restful the girls’ sleep would be.
“But it’s such a pain,” moaned Pavonine. “The house does everything for us. Why can’t it take care of the droomhunds, too?” She ran one hand over Peffiandra’s back, the brush poised in the other.
“Because the cost of light is darkness,” said Winnow. She sat opposite Pavonine, Evenflee lying beside her.
“You’re always saying that,” said Pavonine, her shoulders drooping. “And I don’t even know what it means.” She stabbed at the chaise with the handle of her brush, and Peffiandra looked up, alarmed.
“It’s something Mamma used to say,” said Winnow, sounding unbearably sad. “For every good thing in the world, there is a little bad to go with it. The cost of having a droomhund is brushing her each night.”
Mayhap tried to meet Winnow’s eyes to say a silent thank you, but Winnow looked away.
“Why doesn’t the house do it for us, though?” said Pavonine. “It does everything else.”
“It doesn’t sleep for us,” said Winnow. “The dogs do that.”
“I suppose,” said Pavonine.
Mayhap said, “It’s the way it is, Pav. Some things simply — are. And you can’t change them.” Like the way Winnow has been acting, she thought. She blinked back tears as Seekatrix turned a few anxious circles on her lap. Once he was lying down, she began to run the bristles of her brush through his fur.
Winnow began to brush Evenflee, too, and Pavonine — who had somehow managed to stop complaining — followed suit.
Usually, the Ballastian sisters would talk while they groomed their dogs, but tonight there were too many secrets in the air, and too many lies. The only sounds were the hush of the brushes through thick fur and the rattle of the grass against the windows.
Hush. Rattle. Hush. Rattle.
Pavonine made a quick job of brushing Peffiandra, who endured the treatment like a rag doll. When Pavonine was done, the little dog leaped to the floor, shook as though she was wet, and scratched at the plush carpet.
“Did you do her legs?” said Winnow.
“Yes,” moaned Pavonine. She rolled her eyes.
Winnow rolled hers back.
Then Pavonine began chasing Peffiandra around, squealing as the droomhund growled playfully, her fur fluffed and standing on end.
“Pav,” said Mayhap. “Don’t get her all excited before bed.”
“Why not?” asked Pavonine, stalking behind Peffiandra, about to give her a fright. “She’ll sleep when she needs to sleep.”
“But you had those nightmares the last time, remember? If she can’t settle down, then you won’t, either. It’s not just the texture of their fur that matters.”
Pavonine didn’t listen.
“Pavonine Ballastian,” said Mayhap, “take your droomhund into the hallway right this minute. Ask the house to keep the lights off, and walk up and down slowly. She needs to be in the right state for sleeping.”
Pavonine frowned, scooping Peffiandra into her arms. “Next time you want to talk to Winnow alone,” she said bitterly, “just say so.” She marched out of the room.
When Pavonine closed the door behind her, Mayhap looked at Winnow, who was focusing intently on brushing Evenflee’s curly tail. “Winnow,” Mayhap said, “why did you go walking in the grass?”
Winnow’s brushing hand stopped moving. For a moment, Mayhap thought her sister was going to tell her the truth. But instead she said, “I’m tired, Mayhap.”
Mayhap found a tangle in one of Seekatrix’s ears and began to go over it gently with her brush, pulling it apart with her fingers. Seekatrix shook his head. “Why won’t you tell me?” she whispered urgently, keeping her eyes on Seekatrix’s ear. “I saw you, Winnow.”
Winnow threw down her brush and it hit the carpet with a dull thud. Evenflee looked up, curious. “I can’t sit in this house all day,” she snapped. “Waiting for them. It’s agonizing, not knowing anything.”
Mayhap picked up the brush, which had rolled toward her. She stood, her droomhund tucked under one arm. “I can’t believe you left the house, Winn. You know how dangerous it is. Mamma and Pappa —”
“Don’t talk about Mamma and Pappa!” said Winnow, snatching the brush out of Mayhap’s hand. Then she added, whispering, “Mamma and Pappa aren’t here.” She began to brush Evenflee again, this time more forcefully. He cringed, flinching when the bristles met his fur.
Mayhap kneeled beside Winnow’s chaise, cradling Seekatrix. “Winnow, I had to lie to Pavonine. She would’ve been terrified if she’d known.”
Winnow only scowled.
“It’s a miracle you came back alive,” said Mayhap, her voice louder now. She glanced at the windows, shuttered with silver grass.
“But I did come back,” said Winnow. “I’m perfectly fine.”
Mayhap looked at the carpet. She looked at Seekatrix in her arms. She looked at the door. She looked at Winnow’s flushed face. “Fine,” she said. It was all she could think to say.
“I just —” Winnow said. “I can’t —”
Evenflee struggled, wanting to get away from her harsh brushing.
Around them, the house was quietly tidying little objects away: perfume bottles, books and pencils, stray gloves and wilted flowers. It was folding down the quilts on their bed and drawing the thick curtains so the grass couldn’t watch them sleeping. The room darkened, but a fire lit itself in the grate and began to crackle, emitting a warm glow.
“You can’t what?” said Mayhap.
Evenflee finally wriggled out of Winnow’s arms and jumped to the floor, giving himself a good shake.
“Nothing,” said Winnow. “I told you, Mayhap — I’m tired. We can talk about this in the morning.” Without another word, she got into bed and climbed under the covers.
Mayhap watched, her mouth open in disbelief. The walls seemed to press nearer to her, as though they were trying to hear her breathing.
“That’s enough brushing for tonight, Seeka,” she said, burying her face in his sweet-smelling fur.
“Sounds about right,” said Pavonine, arriving through the door with a drowsy Peffiandra in her arms.
“All right, you two,” said Mayhap.
Her words echoed