Dusk came on the same purple color as Yoshi's uniform. The curtains had been ripped down from the long glass windows on the far wall of the small room; the wan light fell on a mattress that had been disemboweled of its straw stuffing, a pillow that shed feathers on the cobblestone floor, a patched quilt that had been flung across the mattress (but was still in one piece). The single table had been tipped over, and the reed door over a small closet-like space the corner had been wrenched from its moorings and lay tilted across the frame.

The walls were a slightly browner cobblestone than the floor, and it combined with the purple light practically camouflaged Yoshi, who stood slumped against the pocket door frame. He surveyed the room not with shock, but rather a sort of fed-up, overwhelmed look.

Liya got his attention with a soft "Hey," and leaned around to peer in the room. Yoshi seemed to come around some.

"Hello, Liya," he said.

"Is this your room?" Liya asked. "What happened?"

Yoshi finally stepped into the room, choosing to drag the quilt up off the slashed mattress first. "Some of the other trainees probably saw us get their friends into trouble," he said in an offhand tone. "It happens."

Liya watched him gather the quilt up guiltily. "Did you get the third degree from General Russett too?"

As Yoshi stood up she reached for one end of the quilt; he let her, and she pulled it out to help him fold it back up. "No, actually," Yoshi answered, and sounded rather surprised himself. "She just wanted to hear my side of the story. What about Helly?"

Liya hesitated. "Well, ne didn't exactly yell at me..."