“If we do,” Sunny said.

Hip-hop music began to play. Sasha was holding his MP3 player near Grashcoatah’s ear. Grashcoatah purred, gleefully flying in a wavelike motion.

“Haha, yeah,” Sasha said. “That’s more like it. Cheer up!” He turned to Sunny and Orlu, Chichi holding on to his waist. “All of you, cheer up. We’re going to a full place! How many of our peers will be able to say that? And we’re doing it while on the run from the law. This is stuff that books are made of, man. Live in the moment. Don’t know about y’all, but I’m going to make the most of this. I want to see this Osisi place.”

“Me too,” Chichi said. “The council won’t be able to find us there anyway. Not even the best tracking juju can find anyone in a place that is blended with the wilderness. Worst they can do is catch us when we try to go home.”

Sunny frowned. This didn’t make her feel that much better.

“One thing at a time,” Orlu grunted.

“Correct, my man,” Sasha said. “One thing at a time.” He turned his music all the way up.

They decided to stop at a small rural village after flying for hours. The sun was coming up and it was beautiful. Sunny couldn’t help thinking about the last time she’d been out at dawn—when she’d been released from the Obi Library basement. She shivered, thinking yet again, I can’t go back there.

She couldn’t use the GPS on her phone; that rarely worked even during normal times. At the moment, the time on her cell wasn’t even working. Maybe it was something about the grasscutter or maybe it was where they were. Whatever the case, she was left to guess their location. They’d been traveling northeast from Lagos. Maybe they were in Ondo State or even Kogi State. Grashcoatah was flying so fast, and without the sense of wind they could have traveled much farther than she thought. Whatever the case, the village below was quiet, cassava and yam farms stretching beyond the small cluster of houses.

They were invisible as they landed beside a large pond. “Shhh,” Orlu said as they looked around. “Anyone see anyone?”

“There,” Sasha whispered. “In that yam farm.” They all looked. About a half mile from the pond, past lush blooming farmland, an old man with a machete was bending over and inspecting the vines and tubers of his farm. Aside from this man, the place was quiet. The pond looked clean and peaceful, several of the farm plants growing right at its edge to sip the water. It was the kind of place that women used to wash clothes or bathe. This village was lucky to have such a healthy pond.

“He probably won’t even notice us,” Sunny said.

“Maybe,” Orlu said.

“Ah-ah, come on,” Chichi said. She appeared as she let go of the grasscutter’s fur and began to climb down. “I will die if I don’t get off this thing for a bit.” Once on the ground, she stretched her back and looked around.