They sat. One of the smallest girls picked up a strange round bowl and handed it to her. “Drink,” she said. The liquid was nothing she had ever drunk before. It was so sweet it hurt her teeth. “Coconut water,” said the girl. “I’m Lichen.”

“She’s probably never even seen a coconut,” said the big female named Rashelope, who towered over Lichen.

“I thought they died off in the 60s,” Sorrel said.

“There’s a hybrid that survived in the mountains,” Rashelope said. Her tone conveyed: you clueless idiot.

“Here, have some meat.” Lichen handed her something wrapped in leaves. “What’s your name?”

“You have meat?” Sorrel said, reaching for the food.

“Rodent… but yes, meat.”

“My name is Sorrel,” she said and all the Tribals laughed. She was too hungry to ask why. She stripped off the leaves and bit into the rodent. It was juicy and delicious with many small bones. The rodent was the opposite of alganola. Her head swam with exhaustion. She ate every bit of the meat, crunched the bones and licked her fingers. She eased herself out of the circle and, without permission, lay on the rocky floor of the cave. Her last thought was for Bibi, but her mother already seemed part of a different life.

She awoke to a blackness thick as oil. Fighting panic, she touched her eyes to make sure they were open. The torch was out, and the cave was silent. Her pants felt wet and she wondered if she had urinated in the night. Her stomach ached, a low cramping feeling. She thought then of menstrual periods. Hers had not started. Many girls never had periods now; they were too poorly nourished, too sedentary. There were those who said this was a good thing, because the lowered hormones in men and the barren women had brought human reproductive rates down, so there were more resources for everyone. Then the younger people rebelled against supporting the older ones, and children became desirable again.

How would she cope if she got her period up here? Still, she wished for it, this marker into womanhood, especially up here, where she was outside Domin control.

She knelt and felt around her. She found the container which had held the coconut water and the scattered, greasy leaves the rodent had been wrapped in. She licked the leaves. They were gritty, but still had the taste of the meat. Perhaps the Tribals had abandoned her in the cave and she would never find her way out without light. “Guata,” she yelled, to give herself courage. She swore again in anger and frustration. On all fours, she explored the place where she thought the Tribal females had sat and found the torch. If she could light it, perhaps she could find her way out.

“What’re you screaming for?” Emrallie’s voice came from behind her.

She turned with arms outstretched and touched the Tribal’s face. Emrallie stepped back immediately.