Though William observed his mother closely the next morning, he couldn't discern any noticeable difference in her behavior. She still greeted him with the same warmth she always did, braided Emma's hair before sending her off to school, and hugged him and his father goodbye before they left for the forge. It was as if he'd merely imagined her soul reacting to the Hymn of the Whole.

But he couldn't have imagined the way the air around her and Burdock hummed like the lingering notes in the air after the guitar's strings had stilled. Something had changed between them that William couldn't understand, something that filled his insides with a constant, churning dread.

It was only when he and Father returned home from the forge that William learned what his music had wrought.

Despite his thin frame, Dr. Hughes filled the kitchen with his presence. Dressed in a neat brown coat with his hair carefully cut so that not a single follicle was out of place, he seemed to make the room feel tidier simply by gracing it with his presence.

"What in the Lord's name is he doing here?" Father snarled at the sight of their unexpected guest.

"Is Emma alright?" William asked. Though he knew the mere presence of Dr. Hughes was bound to put Father in a foul mood for days to come, that was a storm William knew he could weather. All he cared about was whether his sister was ill.

The doctor rose to greet them, the slight incline of his head stiff and formal. "Good evening, Mr. Smith. Your wife asked me to come take a look at Emma." At this, he offered William a gentle smile. "I haven't had the chance to examine your sister yet, but if anything is the matter, please rest assured that I will do everything in my power to cure what ails her."

Father pinned Mother with a glare. "You asked him to come?"

Mother squirmed under the heat of his gaze like a fly caught in a spider's web, her hands fussing with the hem of her dress. "I don't know what came over me. Last night, I was struck with a horrible feeling that something was wrong with Emma. She seemed alright when I sent her off to school this morning, but with everything she and the other children have been through..." She forced her eyes to meet Father's, her gaze burning with determination. "It felt as if the Lord was telling me I needed to protect her, and I am not one to ignore the signs He gives us."

William fought to keep himself from trembling. He'd caused this. With nothing but his guitar and his sheer desperation, he'd made his mother get help when not even his most desperate pleading had persuaded anyone before. The Lord didn't have anything to do with this. No, the Hymn's power was something else. Something dangerous.

"Though my training has taught me to detect many maladies, few tools are as powerful as a mother's intuition." Dr. Hughes set his medicine chest on their dining table. Tiny glass bottles clinked against each other as he extracted an array of tonics and elixirs, and the potent odor of dried herbs made William's nose burn. "One can't be too careful when it comes to the health of children. They are equal parts danger-prone and terrifyingly fragile."

Emma shrank behind Mother, clutching the hem of her dress with wide eyes. "But I'm not sick!"

"Which is exactly why Dr. Hughes needn't worry about us." Father stepped between Dr. Hughes and the rest of his family. He towered over the doctor as the muscles in his arms twitched. "Apologies for my wife wasting your time. No doubt my foolish son has instilled all sorts of baseless fears in her. A few bricks short of a chimney, that boy."

William cast his gaze to his boots. As always, Father blamed him whenever things didn't go his way. No doubt he would feel the full force of Father's anger once they were alone.

Dr. Hughes refused to leave. Instead, he pulled his coat more tightly around his thin frame and peered up at Father with his arms firmly crossed. "I hardly see ensuring the well-being of a child as 'wasting my time'. At any rate, this is not an isolated incident."

The doctor paused. Concern wrinkled his brow as he glanced at Emma, still hiding behind her mother. "I shan't say too much as I'm sure you've seen the other children as well as I have, but many are having a difficult time growing accustomed to living in Hamelin again. While I would not call them unwell per se, they have been acting strangely. It would be wise for me to monitor them, if only to confirm that they are merely troubled by the sudden change and not something more serious."

"Emma has been acting strangely ever since she and the others came home," William said. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as Father's gaze shifted to him. His throat tightened against the words that would doubtless send Father's belt tearing through his back, yet he forced them out as a hoarse whisper. "It's frightened me, Doctor."

"But I didn't do anything!" Emma sniffled. Tears glistened in her eyes as she wiped her face with her sleeve. "Why are you scared of me?"

"I don't believe he's scared of you but scared for you," Dr. Hughes said gently. "This has nothing to do with what you did or didn't do, my dear girl, but rather what I must do. Though I fully expect the Lord to mend your schoolmates' spirits in due time, it is my solemn duty to ensure your bodies recover from their ordeal as well. Assuming their guardians allow it, of course."

Father grit his teeth. If William had spoken such a barbed, thinly veiled remark against his unwillingness to care for his children, his back would be beaten raw. "Very well," Father said, "but you will do so under my supervision."

Dr. Hughes dipped his head. "Of course, Mr. Smith. Given how young Emma is, I imagine she will find great comfort in your presence."

With that, the doctor began his examination. He listened to her heartbeat—unusually fast but still reasonable—and collected a small sample of phlegm from her nose to test the balance of her humors. As he performed various tests to assess her mental clarity and physical fitness, he asked her family questions about how she'd been faring. "How has she been getting along with the other children? Has she partaken in any of the games she used to play?"

"They've gotten along beautifully," Mother said with a soft smile. "Just the other day, she visited little Peter Farnsworth to bring him flowers she'd picked in the fields. Much has changed, but she still finds beauty in everything, even dandelions."

"So she hasn't isolated herself, then." Dr. Hughes nodded before bending down and gingerly pressing his hand against Emma's stomach. His eyebrows knit together as she wriggled beneath his touch, swinging out her knees until they came just shy of kicking him. "Her stomach is protruding slightly, and I do wonder if it might be causing discomfort."

"It doesn't hurt," Emma said firmly, glaring at the offending hand. There wasn't a doubt in William's mind that the rat inside her longed to bite the doctor's fingers off.

"That's a relief," Dr. Hughes said. "And have you been eating well? Enjoying the bounty the Lord has blessed us with?"

"She's been eating more than she used to," William said.

Mother hummed softly. "I used to have trouble getting her to finish her share, but now her appetite is as boundless as her energy."

The doctor frowned. "I see."

As he carried out his examination, Dr. Hughes asked them more questions about Emma's behavior. He expressed disappointment in her reduced interest in learning to knit like her mother and concern over how her once cheerful demeanor had morphed into a persistent moodiness he'd expect from someone twice her age.

"I fear her mind is greatly burdened," Dr. Hughes said at last. "Children should be filled with boundless energy and joy, not temperamental restlessness. An imbalance of the humors caused by an excess of black bile may fuel a heightened temper. I would suggest feeding her a moderate-sized dose of bayberries to induce vomiting which, coupled with a meal of fresh fish from the market, should bring her humors back into balance."

"Emma is fine," Father snarled. "Or at least she would be if you stopped scaring her."

"I don't want to throw up," Emma said, clinging to her mother as if she alone could prevent her from taking the unwanted medicine.

"There, there, sweetheart," Mother said as she gently patted Emma's back. "Dr. Hughes has your best interest at heart. If he believes we should—"

Father cut her off with a quick shake of his head. "It doesn't matter what he believes. There is nothing wrong with Emma, and I won't have you poisoning her with your lies."

William swallowed, digging his nails into the palms of his hands to keep himself from shaking. Father would never raise a hand against anyone outside their family no matter how much they angered him, but the more Dr. Hughes pressed for him to give Emma medicine, the more likely Father would be to vent his frustrations on the rest of his household.

Dr. Hughes bowed his head. "If you do not believe that Emma requires treatment, then I won't insist upon it. She is physically healthy, so I suspect with the Lord's help she will return to her former, cheerful self before too long. Nonetheless, I would like to see her again after the Harvest Festival. With so many of the children not behaving as they used to, I have been trying to keep an eye on them to make sure they are truly faring well."

Father let out a long, slow breath. "Very well, but only a brief visit. I won't have you distressing Emma more than absolutely necessary." He wrapped a hand around Dr. Hughes's shoulder, his grip so firm the doctor winced before schooling his expression back into a tight smile. "Now then, I would hate to keep you from your other patients, so I bid you good evening."

"Just a moment." Dr. Hughes shrugged off Father's grip, keeping the bulkier man from steering him out the door. "While I am satisfied with Emma's condition, I still have concerns about William."

"I'm fine," William blurted out as Father's gaze fell upon him like storm clouds threatening to break. "I haven't said a word to him about anything, I sw—"

Father held up a hand, immediately silencing him. "Then why would he think to mention you at all, boy? Answer me that."

William's throat tightened as his heart hammered in his chest. He'd done everything he was supposed to. He'd tended to his injuries on his own, kept quiet about how he'd gotten hurt so badly even changing his clothes was painful. What had he done to attract the doctor's attention?

Father took a step forward. The stench of smoke clung to his beard, burning William's nose as the towering wall of muscle that was his father leaned down. "Out with it. Do not embarrass me further."

"I was worried about him," Mother said. As Father shifted his eyes and ire toward her, William shook his head, silently begging her to let him bear the brunt of Father's wrath. Still she pressed on, gently freeing her dress from Emma's grip so she could step in front of her husband without dragging Emma with her. "You know how devastated he was when Emma and the others disappeared. The children have been through a lot too, of course, but we mustn't ignore how much stress he has been dealing with for so long."

"I must say you aren't the only one who has expressed concerns about him either." Dr. Hughes pulled his coat tighter around himself, carefully smoothing out the sleeves. "Many of the parents around town were alarmed by the incident that occurred between him and young Peter. If nothing else, I would like to have a word with him about what caused the altercation."

Father clenched his jaw. Regardless of how this conversation went, William would feel the burn of the belt before long. "If you truly feel the need, then ask him. Your guess at whatever is going through that boy's mind is as good as mine."

"Yes, well." Dr. Hughes cleared his throat. "I was hoping I could examine him in my practice. I have a great deal more supplies there, and I imagine it would be much easier for William to speak candidly if we could have a word alone. Though many find comfort in the home, others find it easier to speak freely when they are separated from the source of their stress."

Father's face darkened. "Are you blaming me for his foolishness?"

Dr. Hughes held up his hands. "Not at all. Rather, it is my experience that when a patient feels overwhelmed they often struggle to explain what is troubling them. Once I speak with him, I'm hoping whatever I learn will put you and the other parents at ease."

"He has seemed out of sorts lately," Mother said quietly.

Father worked his jaw as if he was silently chewing the doctor's words. "What say you, boy? Do you believe it's necessary for you to tell Dr. Hughes about what happened?"

Though his words remained neutral, the fire in his eyes warned William there would be consequences if he disobeyed his father's desires. And yet, out of all the adults he had spoken to, Dr. Hughes was the only one who realized that something was wrong with the children of Hamelin. Though Burdock was a wonderful ally, a human's aid could prove invaluable once the Piper put his plan into motion.

"I think it would be best for me to speak with him," William said. "After everything that happened, I..." His voice cracked under the weight of Father's stare. "I feel horrible about what I did to Peter. I'd do anything to make sure I don't lose control of myself again."

The warmth in Dr. Hughes's smile was surpassed only by the rage simmering in Father's eyes. "That takes a great deal of courage to commit to, dear boy." Dr. Hughes clapped him on the back, forcing William to swallow a pained yelp. "Alright, let's have you come tomorrow morning. Shouldn't take too long, so you'll be back at the forge before you know it."