The others followed suit, though Grashcoatah stayed invisible. When Sunny got to the ground, her thigh muscles cramped up. “Argh!” she said, stumbling.

“Riding a flying grasscutter is good exercise,” Chichi laughed.

“I’m going to be sore for the rest of my life,” Sunny said, gritting her teeth as she pounded on her thighs to loosen the lean muscles. “I feel like I’ve been playing ten hours of soccer. I need to eat two bananas, at least.”

“Grashcoatah, there are plenty of plants,” Orlu said. “I see wild grass, weeds, and things. Don’t eat the man’s crops, please!”

Grashcoatah grunted in a way that sounded sullen to Sunny.

They sat in a dry patch of dirt near the pond and ate a nice breakfast of plantain, bread, and groundnuts. It was communal eating, and they were all so hungry that no one cared about the dirt. The best they could do was wash their hands in the pond before eating.

When they finished, Sunny walked to the pond. She dipped her hands in its clear water, marveling at the tiny brown fish darting away. One came back to eat the dollop of egusi soup that had washed off Sunny’s hand. She strolled along the edge of the pond, in the opposite direction of the farmer, watching the tall grasses closely for snakes. She’d never imagined she’d ever be in a place like this, at this moment, for this reason.

She looked out at the still waters. The pond was so calm. And so . . . big. We should get out of here, she thought. Otherwise someone would see them. There were bound to be people using it this early morning. She brought out her phone. The battery was charged all the way up but still no service. She considered reading the text messages from her brother and parents that had been sent when she was in Udide’s cave. She shook her head. No, I’m keeping all that out of my mind until I finish this.

She was putting the phone in her pocket when she noticed the red snake inches from her feet. No! she thought, her body filling with adrenaline. That’s not a snake! As soon as this registered, the tentacle wrapped tightly around her ankle and pulled. She fell back, dropping her phone as she banged her elbow onto a rock. A second, bigger tentacle wrapped itself firmly around her waist and squeezed. Before she knew it, she was underwater.

Not a pond. A lake. One that wasn’t normally there. The old farmer hadn’t looked beyond his precious yams. They must have been in Igboland. Only an Igbo farmer would be so focused on his yams that he didn’t notice that an entire lake had arrived with the morning sun, sitting a half mile away.

All this spun around in Sunny’s frantic mind as she fought with water, the tentacle, and for air. As she ran out of air, she felt her spirit face pulled from her. Just like that. As if they were being whipped about in a tornado and could no longer hold on to each other.