I think we forget, sometimes, that Juno's just a little kid.

I know I do. And it's awful, I know, but I think after growing up in the midst of an apocalypse, she's definitely matured much faster than I did.

That isn't, of course, to say she's not childish. Of course she is- I mean, she's only seven. She still loves to play pretend; she still loves to hear Simon's endless stories; she still loves. Juno still loves despite having all the reason not to.. though I guess we're all the same.

But now things are peaceful. Domestic. Almost normal. And I don't think Juno knows what that feels like. She's a restless soul, we all know that already- but it's sort of like she's waiting for the next bad thing to happen, living in anticipation of a thunderstorm that won't come. Once again, I think I'm the same. But Juno's never known the mundane pre-apocalyptic life that the rest of us grew up in. She's never known the reality of waking up in the morning and deciding to go back to sleep. She's never known the reality of singing your heart out in the kitchen while dinner is on the stove. She's never known the reality of open first-floor windows and unlocked front doors.

"She's like a little Jitterbug or something. I've never once seen her sit still." Simon speculates over the dull crackle of the firepit in front of us. Juno's pacing backwards and forwards in front of the treeline, her eyes fixed on the dense forest. Her yellow dress is dirty again; it's like that girl attracts mud.

"Like the Wizard of Oz?" I ask, poking at a piece of wood with a stick Juno retrieved earlier.

"What else would it be like?" Simon laughs, and I think my heart actually explodes. I'll never get used to her laugh; it's lovely and it's bubbly and it's warmer than any fire could be.

"I think they're actual bugs. But don't fact check me on that one."

Simon flashes that toothy grin of hers once more, before sitting upright and calling over to our girl, "Junebug! Come get some food!"

"Junebug?" I ask, unwrapping the bread rolls and hard boiled eggs we prepared earlier. "Isn't that a movie?"

"No idea. I think it's a kind of beetle."

"I don't like beetles." Juno announces matter-of-factly as she approaches the fire. "One time, there was one crawling up my leg when me and Cassie were washing in the river."

"Really?" I ask, patting the space beside me for the little girl to sit. "What did you do about it?"

"I squished it."

Simon let out a squawk of laughter, her entire body tipping backwards before she righted herself at the last moment. "Poor beetle."