Julius plants on the steps, and I make my way across the dirt pit to the corner where Taavi is. Her mother should be close by. I haven’t forgotten the words she told me. The way she dug her nails into my arm to make sure I understood the gravity of the situation. In some sort of way… it almost feels like she’s looking out for me. There’s a seed of some type of loyalty there. I don’t understand it. But I sense it. And where I’m from, we reciprocate loyalty ten thousand percent. I want to lay my eyes on her myself, make sure she’s good.

She’s sitting upright when I find her, held up by a pile of bags at her back. Her legs are thin little things sticking out from underneath a thin white shift. Her hair is pulled back into a bun. Taavi must have done that.

“The sun is not what it once was.” The old woman titters to herself. “I used to love it. But it’s such an ancient friend that now I’m afraid it’ll burn my skin.” She tucks her feet under the edge of her garment.

“We plan to move as fast as possible. And hopefully stick underground.” I sit down next to her and she darts a glance in every direction.

“Are you liking being out of there?” I ask. “Where Taavi kept you, I mean.”

“Like? I cannot say yet. But I knew you would take me. I have to be there, you see. I am part of this now. I’ve always been part of it, really.”

Uneasiness coils in me. “You have to be where?”

Her hand cups mine. “This mind is a curse. Each piece in its own time. You understand?”

“I don’t.” I scoot closer. “Help me understand.”

“It’s a curse,” she hisses, gripping my hand so tight I wince. But the flicker of anger or whatever it was dissolves as fast as it came, and she loosens her grip. “Tell me about the rain. I haven’t felt it on my skin in so long.” She rests her head back. “Tell me, child. Go on.” She’s a different person out of her cell. Much less frightening. Without the stone walls and her dank lair, she could be anyone’s grandma.

“The rain? O-okay, uhm. Where I’m from it rains a lot. Well, the weatherman says it’s going to rain all the time, but who knows if it’s actually gonna happen. It’s at least cloudy most days.” I glance at her and her eyes are still rolled back, so I keep going. “But, uhm, here on the island we get storms, a lot.”

“Warm summer rains were my favorite,” she says, eyes darting behind her eyelids and a smile tugging at her lips. “We used to lie out in the rain. Come back covered in mud. Memi hated that.”