Willow slid into the back seat without being asked, without discussion, her body already moving toward the place it needed to be. The door closed with a muted sound that felt too loud in her ears, and then there was only the interior of the car, the soft light filtering through the windows, and Zana sleeping inches away from her.
The car seat was larger than Willow had imagined it would be, structured and solid, a small vessel designed to hold something impossibly delicate. Zana lay inside it, swaddled and still, her tiny body arranged with a care that bordered on reverence. The baby hat sat a little low on her head, soft cotton barely managing to cling to fine, dark wisps of hair. Her pale pink onesie wrapped her in a color that looked like it belonged to her, gentle without trying to be pretty. Over it, the knitted baby jacket had been buttoned with patient precision, each button fastened as though it mattered, as though it carried weight.
