Four years later it felt as though nothing, and everything had changed.

The rat, Afortunada, and her first generation of descendants, were now Bruno's constant companions. Whether he was racing about town with Hernando, driving his mother and sisters mad in Casita, or shut away in his tower sipping coffee in the quiet hours of the night trying to fend off sleep, they were there. More than anything he was grateful for their company as in this same stretch of time superstition had slowly begun to invade his waking hours, just as much as the horrors of the future invaded his sleep.

Because of this, Bruno had developed the nervous habit of throwing salt over his shoulder, to ward off whatever bad spirits plagued him when he was having a particularly rough day, or before undergoing the rare vision quest for someone. This was all much to Julieta's annoyance whose stockpile always seemed to be running low, but the simple ritual helped put his troubled mind at ease.

In truth, the gesture did very little to bring about the positive energies he hoped for. Immutable, the future came whether he wanted it to or not, trickling into his mind when he was most vulnerable, no matter how troubling, or painful.

Lately he'd been dreaming of protesters. Dressed in the bright and colorful folds of their national garb they were peacefully gathered, asking only for their voices to be heard. Buildings on every side, their only exit blocked by the military might of their oppressors who had long occupied their country and exploited their people. A cold wash of dread filled the air as they waited with pent breath, telling themselves the worst could not happen.

Then the military opened fire.

In the cramped space all was panic, and terror. Clawing and clamouring for freedom as a rain of bullets tore through fragile bodies, the protesters found only unscalable walls. There was screaming, so much screaming. They were pressed together churning like the waves of a storm tossed sea, trampling over fallen friends, family, and neighbors as they attempted to escape the massacre. Blood soaked the earth creating a thick red mud beneath their feet. Some poor, wretched souls with no other means of survival flung themselves into a well in a hopeless bid to escape. Desperate, many followed their lead until the weight of those on top crushed the very life out of those beneath. A cramped, air-deprived, and watery grave for people who had only wanted to be seen, and heard.

Bruno would wake with pain riddled throughout his body in a phantom burst of gunfire, gasping for air, his lungs burning for want of it. Sitting there quaking in the dark night after night, he could almost taste the blood filled water.

The boy dealt, as he ever strove to, with this burden in silence.

He felt it was his responsibility to protect his family, to shield them from the grim realities he, and he alone had been cursed to bare witness. To Hernando, the first person he sought out when troubled, secure in the knowledge that he would guard his secrets, listen quietly, and only offer advice if it had been asked for; Bruno gave what sparse details he dared. Just enough to keep from shattering under the weight of the world.

The frequency, lucidity, and true physical anguish he felt when trapped in the most horrific of prophecies were secrets Bruno shared only with his lovely rats.

Bruno, did his best to fend off his growing self-hatred and isolation with its antithesis, laughter.

He accomplished this by spending most of his days in town wreaking what havoc he could with Hernando as they raced one another down the avenues. They'd both grown a lot, the blind boy in particular, his long limbs gangly as he navigated the world using a thin, whippy crook, similar to what a shepherd might use, but far more painful to lose against in a sword fight. Hernando was skillfully determined if not to outpace his peers, to at least keep up with them, and that included Bruno.

When the two weren't causing trouble, they were reading by the fountain, or talking quietly tucked away in one corner or another. Responsibility and age creeping up on them, they cherished these moments together most, especially now that Hernando's mother had lost her faith. Soured against Bruno the woman had been doing everything she could to keep them apart.

In spite of her efforts, or maybe resulting from them, it seemed that more and more when he was alone Bruno found himself thinking about the boy that was his best, and perhaps only friend. At night when Bruno fought sleep, it was the memories of Hernando's smile, his laughter, and the delicate feel of his long fingers interlaced with his own that gave the seer a sense of comfort and ease.

In the light of morning Bruno would be practically delirious with anticipation as he sat for breakfast, wanting only to get to the bench the two thought of as their own. Each day found himself hardly able keep still while his mother spoke of the deeds and services she and her children were expected to undertake. Hernando the only thing on his mind.

They hunkered behind some shrubbery, snickering to one another, one sun-filled afternoon, rolling clumps of damp soil into hefty projectiles.

Emiliano had been targeting Bruno with vicious tricks and rumors for months. The bully found great humor and amusement whenever he'd been able to cause the Gifted boy grief or heartache that he was unable to predict, relishing the fact that Bruno could not peer into his own future. Today, the duo had decided, was the day they were finally going to get their revenge. Emiliano, smug, arrogant, rich, was well dressed and would be attending his little sister's christening, so mud seemed an apt tool for the job.

"Is this enough?" Hernando whispered, digits fluttering over the loose pile of compressed earth they had accumulated between them.

"It should be," the Madrigal boy nodded, his jaw set with determination. He had a fairly good idea of the type of trouble he was going to be in after a stunt like this, but he wasn't going to be bullied anymore.

"Now, we wait." Bruno murmured, feeling the weight of a dirt clod in the palm of his hand with anticipation, while Afortunada busied herself seated atop his head, parting and washing his curly locks with her little pink tongue.

It wasn't too long before Emiliano emerged with a smile, unawares of the consequences his actions were about to rain down upon him. Grinning with a preemptive sense of victory Bruno shouted, "Now!"

Arms pumping in quick succession the boys hurled mud at their hapless target.

"Aim for the shouting!" Bruno laughed, watching one of Hernando's shots arch wide to the left, as a barrage of rocks came flying their way when Emiliano scrambled to defend himself.

"I am!" Hernando chortled back.

Suddenly Bruno's heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach when he watched a lobbed mud ball arc high into the air before it streaked down straight onto the head of the enemy's grandmother, who had come to investigate the commotion. Time froze for an instant, not one of the three boys dared breathe. Then, all at once, came the yelling and swearing from Emiliano's extended family.

Dirt churning beneath his heels Bruno darted away like a rabbit, screaming, "Run!" over his shoulder.

"Run? Run where?" his friend asked with a nervous laugh, following the sound of his voice.

Stomach knotted by cocktail of fear and excitement, Bruno screeched to a halt. Turning he grabbed hold of Hernando by an arm, then yanked him in the right direction. The fugitives ran away, laughing in spite of the rocks and pebbles stinging their backs as Emiliano and his cousins retaliated with a blazing fury.

"That was fun!" Hernando panted when they had cleared enough distance to slow down. Swinging his crook back and forth in front of him, he found what he was looking for when its end struck stone.

"It was! Maybe they'll stop messing with us now?" Bruno mused hopefully as he climbed atop the low stone wall his friend had sought out. Aloft and carefully balanced, he watched as Hernando, climbing up in front of him, joined him in the air.

Bruno's stomach squeezed with the usual anxiety watching the other boy do things like this gave him. He knew better than most what Hernando was capable of as they slowly began walking the length of the wall, but still he worried.

"Maybe," Hernando agreed, shifting one foot in front of the other, his cane tapping out the narrow path before him. "That or make things much, much worse."

"Thanks." Bruno rolled his eyes.

"I'm just saying, Emiliano won't forget." the blind boy shrugged. "Besides, you know when word gets back to your Mamá, you're going to be in a lot of trouble, right?"

"He started it!" Bruno countered defensively.

"It doesn't matter." Hernando said flatly.

"Besides it was only mud, he was throwing rocks!" Bruno explained.

"It doesn't matter." Hernando replied in a sing-song voice.

"But he's done way worse stuff to me!" Bruno added, reflecting on all of the torment he'd suffered at the hands of Emiliano and his cousins.

"It doesn't matter!" Hernando laughed with a series of tsk-tsk clicks of his tongue.

"Why doesn't it matter?" Bruno spit venomously, tired of his friend's coy game.

"Because you are Bruno Madrigal." Hernando stated, his tone conveying how obvious the answer should have been. "The town is going to blame you because they hate you, and your Mamá is going to blame you because she loves you, and holds you higher than all the rest." Hernando threw a mischievous smirk over his shoulder. "You are gifted by God, and you should know better."

Bruno paused to mull this information over. A swear slipped out between his teeth as the reasoning dawned on him, "You're right!" he gasped, letting out a groan of dismay.

They did hate him, it wasn't his fault, but they did, and stunts like this did nothing to help. Not to mention the pressure of living up to a miracle, one bought with his father's life. The hairs stood on the back of his neck, veins chilled with the rush of anxiety in his blood, as he thought of this. Superstitiously the boy crossed his fingers to ward off bad luck as he balanced on the wall. Why did this all have to be so hard?

Then, as he yawned, a thought occurred to him and he shouted, "You're going to be in trouble too!"

"Who, me?" Hernando remarked with a casual air. "No, not me. I'm the poor blind boy everyone pities. If anything they'll find a way to feel sorry for me. Probably even blame you for corrupting me, too."

Bruno paused in shock, again Hernando seemed to have hit the nail in the head. "Menso!" he snapped, giving Hernando a little shove, just enough to frighten him.

"Puta!" Hernando called back as he stabilized himself, catching Bruno, who had never heard him curse before, off guard.

His cheeks hurting from how hard he was laughing, Bruno chuckled, "Wow, I didn't know you had it in you! I wonder what your mother would say?"

"She'd tell me that I'm never to see you again, and I'd agree to it." Hernando responded with was sounded like anger in his voice.

"You'd agree to it?" Bruno breathed in disbelief. Pain lanced through him at the thought of their friendship coming to an end, he hadn't meant to upset Hernando that much. He immediately regretted the shove.

"Of course I will! I mean, I've never seen you before, so I don't understand what difference that would make now?" Hernando snarked, turning back with a cheeky grin.

Bruno laughed again, relieved that this was just another one of Hernando's stupid jokes. He found himself wracking his brain to come up with something clever to respond with, when it happened.

Time time seemed to slow, and for one hellish moment stop all together. A loose stone in the wall shifted beneath Hernando's foot, and his arms pinwheeling, the boy went plummeting towards the earth. Bruno, his heart squeezed by the vice of fear, reached to catch him, but a pace too far behind he just couldn't reach him. Cold with dread, ice collecting at the pit of his stomach, Bruno didn't dare to breathe as he stared at his friend lying crookedly on the ground, images of similarly broken people staining his vision.

Bruno couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He heard the screams of dying people crying out in languages he didn't speak. He blinked, but he could still see them, the blood, their own entrails cradled in their hands, so many people... Death, his mind was flooded with nothing but death, and now he feared death had come to claim Hernando.

As he watched, shaking all over, his bladder shamefully threatening to loosen Bruno heard the words "God, no." escape him.

Hernando who roused himself after a minute seemed dazed and disoriented. As the boy tried to sit, a slow trickle of blood fell from just behind left ear. Swaying with dizziness Hernando cautiously moved the fingers of his right hand to examine his injuries. Slowly they found their way to the gash, then down to red stain blossoming across the opposite shoulder, where the bone of his clavicle jutted out just through his skin.

Coming into himself at last Bruno climbed down, moving in slow automated motions until he was crouched down by the other boy. In shock and unable to help as Hernando's deft fingertips explored his wounds, trekking further down his arm to where the elbow was swollen and bent wrong in it's joint. Bruno felt like he was floating. Unable to think of anything to do to help, he watched the scene play out before him from a distant, vertigo inducing place in the back of his head.

He hadn't seen it coming, he always saw the bad things coming. He should have seen, should have known that Hernando was going to fall. He shouldn't have jostled him. He shouldn't have let him get on the wall. He shouldn't have encouraged such rough-housing. This was all his fault, Bruno felt. And what was worse, there was nothing anyone could do to help.

Then Hernando began to cry. Starting at first as a frightened whimper it quickly turned into an anguished howl.

"What do I do? What do I do?" Bruno rushed out nervously before catching him as Hernando, deathly pale, fell backwards.

They had to get him to a doctor, and fast. Blinking back a cascade of tears he couldn't see through, Bruno cursed vehemently between his teeth as he tried to haul his friend up, ready to carry him if necessary. That was when he heard the shouting. Adults poured out of their homes and places of business as they raced to see what the terrible commotion was.

"What have you done?" a deep, booming voice broke out over the boys' heads. Señor Ortiz was there, at the head of the crowd. He pulled Bruno away, shoving him to one side as he assessed Hernando. The man cursed angrily, casting a hateful look Bruno's direction before scooping up the screaming child and turning towards the heart of town.

Racing to keep up with the swarm of onlookers Bruno cried out excuses, explanations, and apologies as he trailed after them. The man who carried Hernando, professioned as a weaver, wore a grim, tight lipped expression, ignored what the boy said his only remark, "I've seen you two galavanting around town. He is blind Bruno, there are some things he simply cannot do. You are a bad influence."

Bruno who already felt crushed beneath the responsibility for what had happened was burned by the man who branded him with a bad name. Mute, head low, and eyes wide, the Madrigal boy fell into step a pace behind him, but said nothing, his ears flooded with the sounds of Hernando's pain.

It wasn't until they had reached the square, and Señor Ortiz began calling for help, that he looked up. Hernando had gone quiet, and still. His face pale and covered in sweat his teeth chattered his whole body tense.

All at once everyone in the square seemed to understand what was happening, and as a whole, as if that was their child being laid on the ground, the community came together. Someone ran to fetch a doctor, another the priest. People appeared from every corner of town's heart, dozens of hands thrusting shawls or even the very shirts from their backs towards Señor Ortiz to help staunch the bleeding. A woman bundled her apron under Hernando's head before rushing away in a state of distress to hug her own child.

Pepa, who had been sharing lunch with her sister, took one look at the hopeless scene and fled, an icy shower descending upon the gathered masses in her wake.

Julieta, her brow creased with concern, watched her sister go before wiping her hands on her apron and approaching the injured boy. She was pale with nerves, and wrung hands that shook. Bruno could sense what she was thinking as she appeared at his side. Her cures had never worked for Hernando before, why would they now? The same hopelessness filled his entire, trembling frame.

"He fell!" were the only words Bruno could force out, fishing Hernando's blood-covered hand from the ground, holding it fast. He wanted him to know that he was still there, he hadn't left him, and wouldn't leave him, no matter what.

"What can I do?" Julieta asked. Kneeling down, she pulled the cloth away from Hernando's wounds. Grimacing, sweat beading along her brow, her eyes darted up to meet her brother's in a silent plea for help.

"I don't know." Bruno said between quivering lips.

Turning away the Madrigal girl went to one of her baskets and retrieved a small cake.

"It won't work, we need a doctor!" Bruno shouted. "A real doctor, please! He's hurt! We need a doctor!"

"Someone went to fetch him." said a voice from the throng of people.

Ignoring him, and his disregard for her the girl whispered in prayer. "Please, God, please. I can't pretend to know how the Miracle works or why you chose never to bless him before, but I humble myself before and ask that you please, let this food bless Hernando. Let it heal him. Please, please," she begged, tears running down her cheeks. "Let it work now. Amen."

Julieta hesitated only a minute, long enough to cross herself, before holding the cake to the blind boy's lips and said, "Eat this." she whispered.

Sitting slightly with the help of many hands on his back Hernando let out a whimper before taking a bite of the baked Miracle.

No one moved. Watching, waiting, the entire square had fallen completely silent save for the utterance of prayer. All at once, as his mother pushed herself towards the front, the tight contortions that Hernando's face had wound itself into calmed. The color returned to his complexion, and a held breath easing out of his lungs. As the crowd watched the jagged bones slid back into place and skin stitched itself back together.

Their hearts beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird, Bruno and everyone else around him gawked in humility and awe.

"It worked!" the two Madrigal children practically sang for joy and disbelief in unison.

Gently, Bruno shook Hernando by the shoulder, as he lay calm and restive, "Hernando! Hernando, how do you feel? What do you see?" he questioned, trying to rouse the other boy after a minute.

"I feel so much better, thank you Julieta!" Hernando breathed in a relieved sigh, tears of another kind escaping him. Then he opened his eyes, and gasped. "Bruno mi amor, I - I can see you!" he smiled. "Bruno, you're beautiful!"

Warmed all over by these words, his stomach doing a cartwheel as the murmurs of the gathered people grew into a deafening roar of excitement Bruno was unsure of and embarrassed, as to why he felt himself blushing. Turning away, hands still trembling, he didn't want Hernando to see.

"And Julieta," Hernando continued. "Oh, my dear, sweet Julieta I can't thank you enough for- God in Heavens, your face! It's hideous! Those scars! That fur! Are those tusks?" Hernando went on his fingers reaching out to playfully explore the girl's face.

"Help, help, monster!" he cackled, his eyes staring vacantly past the girl he addressed.

The lively, celebratory energy that had been stirred up quickly died away when everyone realized that Hernando had not, somehow, regained his sight after all these years. The people's relief that his body had been mended however, outweighed the crowd's annoyance at his prank, but only by a margin. Hernando scrambled to his feet, among their annoyed remarks of criticism, and thanked Señor Ortiz with a firm handshake. The man seemed wry to return the gesture, head shaking he muttered something about Hernando's insanity.

"Run Bruno, run! Our Mamás will have our hides!" Hernando larked as he latched onto Bruno yanking him away.

Calling out the weaver even offered a brief apology to Bruno, for blaming him the way he had.

"I can see now how loco the boy is, maybe he's the bad influence, eh?" he shouted, earning a nervous smile from Bruno who was unsure how to respond.

Fleeing the scene of Hernando's miraculous healing, the two eventually found themselves on the edge of town, facing the dense jungle that separated them from the expansive mountain range which had erected itself to protect their tiny town. Still in shock they sat quietly for a long while, playing everything through in their minds, scarcely able to believe what had happened.

Bruno stroked the mother rat, as she watched her half-grown offspring playing nearby where the boys were sitting. His mind was a chaotic whirlwind, Bruno was deeply troubled in his silence as he stared hard at thick foliage before him. Picking at the blades of grass between them he wondered how to even ask what he wanted to. Before he had the chance to think through his inquiry, and rehearse it in his head however, Hernando broke the hush and spoke first.

"Ask." he said simply.

"Ask what?" Bruno laughed, playing the fool.

"Ask whatever it is you want to ask me." Hernando doubled down.

"I just -" Bruno chewed his lower lip. "I was just wondering, why you thought the miracle would work on your arm, your head, but not your eyes?"

"Oh, that!" Hernando commented as though relieved, his pent shoulders sagging. He became thoughtful and contemplative for a long while before answering, leaning back as he spoke.

"I think its because I've never wanted it to. My mother is the one who wants a cure for my blindness, not me." he mused. "I've known no other life, or way of perceiving the world. I'm happy with who I am. I like who I am. And I'm afraid of who I might change into if I stop being me..."

An electrified silence ate the next several minutes.

"Why?" he smirked then, trying to break the tension. "Do you think I need to be cured?"

Bruno, who was stunned. He found himself gawking incredulously at his friend. How could anyone be happy being blind? Being less than everyone else? How could he not want for more? Did he not miss and desire what others took for granted? The boy was mad! Completely and utterly mad. Beside himself, Bruno could say nothing.

Slowly though, these ignorant thoughts and questions wore out their welcome, and the Madrigal boy found himself reflecting instead on how brave, smart, funny, and capable his friend was, more so than half of the other boys in town.

Hernando didn't need his eyes to be better than any of them, which he was, but the fact that he didn't want to see either left a deep impression on Bruno. He found himself blushing, warm all over as something fell into place within his mind as he took a moment to gaze at Hernando's serene face, warmed by the sun, hair dewy from the humidity. A candle glow that had always been there burned even brighter in Bruno's heart, and he knew then and there that he was, without reservation, in love with the other boy.

Bruno's breath caught. His mouth went dry. That was it, he was in love. That was why thoughts of Hernando occupied his every waking moment, why just being near him drove away all the pain and fear, why at a comment he saw rainbows, or at a touch all was right in a world Bruno knew better than most was very, very wrong.

It all made so much sense.

Bruno felt alive with joy, and as though he might explode. He wanted to sing the revelation to the world, he was in love! In love! Yes, Bruno Madrigal was in love! Yet, for some reason, it hurt to know at the same time. Boys didn't go with other boys, that's just not how things were. The fact was tinged with uncertainty, and doubt, but that doubt made his love no less true.

"No, I'm pretty sure you're perfect just the way you are." Bruno smiled, watching as Hernando cautiously inched a hand from its place in his lap to reach for him. Their fingers interlaced, heads leaned together, they rested, their hearts beating as one.