The twins stayed with Mr. and Mrs. Rostanöva, a young couple whose apartment had been out of the line of fire. There were two other kids there: Zrinka and Costel. They had also lived in Wanda and Pietro's apartment building, and the children, as was the case with all of the children in their little world, that small city block, known each other since birth.

Zrinka was the same age as the twins, a thin, little blonde girl with a quiet demeanor similar to Wanda's. Due to this, the two girls had never been able to initiate much conversation, and preferred to simply sit in near vicinity while occupied with their individual activities. 

Costel was only a baby, barely a year old, and would, no matter the effort, not be able to remember what his parents had been like.

The Rostanövas were kind enough. They fed the kids, gave them new clothes, led them to a cozy room with a rickety queen sized bed that the older ones could share. Costel would stay in Mr. and Mrs. Rostanöva's bedroom, since he was just a baby, they said. Zrinka reluctantly gave her infant brother up.

Zrinka, Wanda, and Pietro weren't given pajamas, so they just crawled into their little bed in their underclothes. They were all piled up, holding onto each other for dear life. They were petrified. And they were all each other had left.

~

Mr. and Mrs. Rostanöva woke the children up early in the morning and fed them dry cereal for breakfast. Then they walked them to the Novi Grad Orphanage. 

The orphanage was a huge, brick building with broken windows and a tangle of dead grass in the front. The pathway leading up to the door was cracked stone overrun with weeds, and was where the Rostanöva's left the children before rushing off to start the day's work.

Wanda, Pietro, and Zrinka held hands, and Zrinka held the tiny Costel as they all walked up to the door and went inside. Perhaps imagined, a cold and sinister air greeted them immediately upon opening the door.

The place was indeed drafty, from all the broken windows, the children guessed, and the floor creaked under their threadbare shoes. 

The headmaster, a nice, older man with a peculiar accent named Mr. O'Reilly welcomed them with loving arms. He showed them all around the building while describing the history of the orphanage. His father, a Catholic missionary, had founded it decades ago and passed it on to his son, who was met with increasing difficulty to maintain the lives of the children within as funds and staff dwindled alongside the whole of the city's detriment.

The first floor was composed of a kitchen, dining room, and the school rooms, as well as a couple bathrooms and Mr. O'Reilly's quarters and office. A narrow staircase that groaned under their feet led them up to a broken doorway. They walked through and found themselves in the dormitories. It was a long hallway with several more rooms, some with doors and some that were broken off, gaping holes tinged with rusty hinges. There was a spot in one wall that'd rotted away like an infectious window and revealed a tiny room packed with five young girls. 

Zrinka and Wanda were led to a room near the end of the hall. Inside, there were two bunk beds and a single dresser that all the girls in the room shared. They didn't have many belongings anyway. 

There were four other girls in Wanda and Zrinka's room. The one who looked the oldest, mid-teens about, introduced herself as Milla. 

"This is Maria, Alana, and Cosette." Milla said, gesturing to the other three girls strew across the beds. 

Maria was the second oldest, probably twelve, and Alana and Cosette were both definitely younger than the others. 

"All set?" Mr. O'Reilly asked. Zrinka and Wanda nodded and then he took Costel from Zrinka to take him to the little nursery. He turned to Pietro and invited, "Son, let's be off. I'll show you to your room."

"No, please!" Wanda shouted. 

"He's only going down the hall," Mr. O'Reilly said calmly. "He'll be right there all the while, and so will your baby brother."

"But-" Wanda started to object, whereas Zrinka attempted an understanding smile.

"Wanda, I'll be fine. I'll see you." Pietro grabbed Wanda's hand and squeezed it. 

"O-okay," Wanda said. And then he let go. 

Wanda and Zrinka walked into their room. 

"You two can have that bed," Milla said, pointing to the bottom bunk on the bed on the right side of the room. She motioned for Alana to get off. "You share with Cosette." Alana grumbled but complied. 

"You can put your things in here!" Cosette said, bounding over to the little dresser.  

All Wanda and Zrinka had were their old pairs of clothes, the ones they were wearing when the apartment collapsed. Mrs. Rostanöva had washed them during the night, and they smelled freshly of soap. They set them, their only remaining possessions, in the top drawer of the dresser next to the short supply of the other girls' clothes and knick-knacks.

"You'll be fine here," Maria assured, having noticed how anxious Wanda and Zrinka looked. They both managed small, tight-lipped smiles, unsure if they would ever be fine again anywhere.