Rosario had the strongest yearning for her own bed right now. She wanted to slide a cake of her abuela's ruda soap under her pillow and pull the covers around herself like a cocoon and believe that when she woke she'd have dreamed this whole thing. There were no gods, there never had been, and she'd never seen anything in the forest, and she and Lyra had never fought because there had been no faeries and no Archer. God, how she wanted all of this to be a dream. But the pounding in her head and the hollow ache in her stomach and the painfully empathetic smiles from Elaine and Little John told her what she already knew: this was happening, and it was gonna keep happening whether she liked it or not.
Maybe instead, she could try to believe Elaine's words. That they'd be okay. That they'd figure out a way through. Even if that seemed like almost as big a long shot as the dream thing.
Least she had Lyra to figure it out with her. That was something she could believe in.
"Thank you." Her voice still felt small, but she managed to meet both Johnny and Elaine's eyes when she said it. "It... yeah, it's a lot, but... we couldn't not know."