When Niam Tais was a young woman, she’d woken from her bed, driven from the sweat-damp sheets by the humidity and the bright face of the moon through the window of her family’s hut. She’d wandered down to the riverbank and fallen asleep at its shore to the gentle shushing of the water. The next morning, she brushed moondust from the creases of her clothes as her thoughts grasped for the vestiges of a dream about a man in shining robes and a string of white stones against his brow.

It was a sign, the village elder decided, that she’d been called by the spirits to the revered duties of a shaman.

Some years later, after the war had displaced her halfway around the world, she fell asleep with the moonlight full against the backs of her eyelids and dreamed again of the Moon Emperor. In the dream, he shot an arrow across the night sky, a streak of brilliant silver, and beckoned her to retrieve it. As in her childhood, she’d obeyed the calling and ended up in the sleepy town of Little Nova.

What Niam Tais did after that wasn’t clear, and Hlee had never been satisfied by the open ending. Instead, she couldn’t help but wonder if the story hadn’t yet found its conclusion.

She shifted her backpack, the Tupperware inside clacking together, and kicked at a pine cone lying in her path. On any given day, Little Nova was a quiet town, the stillness broken only by the grinding roar of old cars. In the woods, though, the silence took on a presence all its own, a companion that Hlee always welcomed.

As she jumped over a narrow brook nearly dried out from the summer heat, laughter flitted through the trees. She paused, her skin prickling as the wind slid warm fingers against her neck. The laughter came again, closer this time, along with the snap of twigs beneath heavy feet. Hunching her shoulders, she lowered her head and continued walking more quickly.

“Hlee?”

She winced and glanced toward the voice. Emilia Hart stood some distance away, her blonde hair slightly mussed. Her boyfriend—Hlee thought his name might be Sam—stood behind her, arm draped over her bare shoulders, his fingers playing with the strap of her pink tank top.

“Were you spying on us?” she asked, glossy lips curling, her words sharp with laughter.

Hlee’s face went hot. She stared hard at her worn gray sneakers, wishing Emilia would stop talking so Hlee wouldn’t feel like she was fleeing. “No,” she mumbled. “I’m just . . .” She gestured to the trail.

“Oh, her,” Emilia said. “Hey, Sam, you remember when Rina lost her dog?”

Hlee walked faster, fingers clutched tight around her backpack straps. But the silence that had only moments ago been her friend carried the snide words straight to her ears.