"Depends on how much time we want to spend? The sun one sounds cool, that's right after the stargazing one. We could watch both."

"I'm up for both if you are."

"I am, yeah."

So stargazing it is. It feels nice to be sitting next to Kaylee under the stars in a warm kinda way. The program about the sun is just as cool as Lianne predicted, too.

Afterwards, she's thinking about saying something about lunch, and idly making her regular check for witches, when she feels a vague malevolence. 'Do you feel that?' she sends at Kaylee. 'I think it's at the edge of my range - wait, it's getting closer.'

'Yeah.'  She fiddles with her soul gem's ring, glances around for an exit.  'I think it's in that direction, we should check it out...'

'Yeah, let's.' The museum only has the one non-emergency exit, so she heads for it at a brisk walk.

It keeps moving, while they do; wherever it usually lurks, it's moving away.  It isn't long before they find it, a shimmer in the air down a back alley.  She steps forward, brushing her hand through it like a curtain, and vanishes into the barrier.

"Let's go," Lianne says, glancing at Kaylee for confirmation before stepping through. She activates her costume once she's inside, drawing her sword.

A white hallway, fluorescently lit, with a metal double door at the end.  A hospital.  Shadowy figures in white coats and surgeon's masks wander slowly up and down the hall, vanishing like mirages as they get close.

Kaylee transforms, unsheathing throwing knives from the air.  "You wanna go first?"

"Yeah. You got my back?"

"Sure thing."

And onward into the barrier, keeping an eye out for familiars but mostly heading straight for the witch.

It becomes clear that it's not just a hospital, but a pediatric ward; the rooms that bloom into deeper hallways are colored in garish pastels and decorated with cartoon animals, eyes a bit too wide, grins a bit too toothy.  Every so often a familiar approaches - wobbly cartoon-mascot caricatures of defibrilators or biohazard symbols.  Some ignore them, some go for the throat; Kaylee easily dispatches any that come up from behind.

After a time, the familiars recede, even as they move deeper into the barrier.  The cartoons on the wall dance and stare, like a fever dream.

"It's been a while since anything came at us, huh?"  Kaylee said.  "Are they usually this bare, this deep in?"

"I don't think so, no."

"Think we're going the right way?  It felt like it to me, but..."

"I think so... The center feels very strongly like it's this way."

"That's what I thought, too.  ...Could someone have been through here already?  Another magical girl?"

"Maybe?"

"Well," she shrugs, "if someone did, we'll only catch them if we keep moving, and if not we've got a clear path to the witch.  Wanna keep moving?"

"Yeah, let's go."

Deeper and deeper.  Hallways twist and branch and double back, and expand into rows and rows of child-sized hospital beds.  Shadowy doctor-figures crowd and cluster.  In the distance, whimpers and screams and less pleasant sounds.

No familiars are in evidence.

But soon, someone else is.

As they round a corner, a girl in a steel-grey costume spins to face them.  She has a weapon in each hand, something like an oversized pistol, or perhaps a miniature harpoon; she levels one at Lianne.  From the barrel protrudes something sharp, three prongs curled back like fishing hooks.

"Who the hell are you?"

Lianne sticks her sword in the ground. "Lianne and Kaylee. We're visiting the area, and wanted to see about meeting local girls. Figured hunting's a good way to do that. We're not looking to take your territory."

"I'm not interested in talking to nomads," she says.  She doesn't lower her grappling hook.

"We're part of a network of girls not too far from here. Share advice, transportation, some resources, take down particularly big witches together, act as backup for each other in case of an emergency. It's safer, and we're doing better than we would on our own. We were wondering if you'd be interested in joining up, or if you know anyone who is."

She clicks her tongue contemptuously.  "You expect me to share my grief seeds?  Tell your club to farm its own witches."