Delilah, on deck
Delilah is the kind of problem a child would keep on purpose.
She is green, fuzzy, tiger-sized, and she hates plant pots. She likes scratches between the shoulder blades. She is not stealthy. She is not helping.
In her story, she turns up in a steep hillside town where every staircase is too narrow, every house is too full, and every hiding place works exactly once. A small boy named Mateo finds her and decides, immediately, that she is his problem now.
That means a pantry for one afternoon. A roof corner for one night. A bad plan under a table. Plant pots she refuses to go near. Near misses. Older siblings who always seem to be one room away from finding out.
Delilah does not understand the rules of staying hidden, but she does feel something pulling at her. Mateo thinks he is keeping a secret creature safe. Slowly, he realizes he is helping her find something.
The Soft Dark started with Delilah. She was the first Tuft I drew, and she still feels like the clearest expression of the whole thing: strange, soft, inconvenient, a little mournful, and impossible to ignore.
