We buried the four by the Ancestors, next to Yiyo Peak. We pray daily that those gone live on with the Ancestors in eternal peace. Memi gestures for me to get closer to her. I do. Branches scratch my legs, but the cover of leaves isn’t one we can risk. If someone is following us, we know this part of the forest better than anyone. Heat tickles my fingers as we creep over branches. I won’t be a body washed up on the shore. I have a turning out ceremony today, a life to live, and if I’m to be all that Memi is, a clan to run… one day! A sick feeling twists in my gut remembering the faces, and yet so many are still missing. This should be a morning of celebration. If the Grays come for me… My knees shake, threatening to go out from beneath me. I-I will defend myself.

Something burns my leg, but before I can glimpse it, a flicker of movement between the branches catches my eye. I bend instinctively, crouching behind a thick jpango tree, hiding myself in its folds, my heart thumping.

Memi holds out a shaky hand, trying to push me behind her. I touch my burning leg and my fingers are sticky. The thorny branches cloaking us in safety cut me. I shift in my stance to get a better view of my leg and a few berries spill out of my makeshift bucket. The ceremony! I reach for them, not wanting to lose even one.

Memi gestures for me to be still, and I notice the fire rolling in her hand. I peer harder between the branches. There is a lone man, young from the looks of it. Skinny, with thin sharp features, a prominent nose, a well-defined jaw. He’s one of the well-to-do Grays. The ones with the larger plots of land. The leathers he wears and silver buckle at his waist both confirm his standing. He comes from a name, a family. Which means he knows the rules—well. But I guess he doesn’t think they apply to him.

He crouches at the edge of a muddy patch of water. He angles his back to us, and I tiptoe. But his shoulder blocks my view from seeing what he’s doing. He leans over the water like he’s taking a drink and fiddles with his pockets. I move a branch and step up on a rock for a better view, but my foot slips. Twigs snap under my feet. Memi cuts me an iron stare and I still.