Leana fell asleep in the bath again, the water getting cold while she dozed. It’s strange... back in the village, we never had hot water like this. We never had anything that wasn't earned by the sweat of our brows. Now, we have soft beds, warm food, and a roof that doesn't leak. It feels almost wrong to be this pampered, to have our hands so idle when we’re so used to labor and pain. I know we’re safe here, truly safe, but I still feel this itch to work, to scrub floors or mend clothes until my fingers bleed, just to prove we aren't useless. Leana just mumbles in her sleep, though, happy and warm. Maybe that’s enough for now. Maybe we just need to learn how to be 'kept' instead of 'broken'.