Awa fell asleep in the middle of swallowing a mango slice and ended on someone’s back, her head bouncing against spongy braids. Elders passed her from back to back until she woke from dreams of riding an elephant and slid down. Fear twisted the faces of the other Sprites. Awa counted sixteen. When she’d fallen asleep there were only eight, including her. Isra put a hand to her lips to stop her asking a question.

The six Elders were shadow warriors, fading in and out of view, as quiet as sweetgrass fluttering on a breeze. They spoke with their hands and mimicked jackals and crows to cover noisy steps. Awa might have marveled at griot tales come true, but she was sweaty and hungry and wanted to sneak back home. A stupid idea. No girls ran off. Father would turn her away or sell her off to someone else. Mother would weep and brother Kenu would fuss, but they’d take Father’s side. And then where would she be?

Isra marched the Sprites down a shallow creek and halted suddenly, still as stone. They were being tracked. Awa gulped breath. Her heart felt louder than the cricket serenade. Behind them, Yari drummed and sang. Vie pulled fire from the air, a bright blue column of flame that lit up the trees from root to crown. Another griot tale come true.

The trackers emerged from the trees. They stumbled over their own shadows, hissing and spitting, wobbly as drunks. Yellow cloaks snagged on branches. They were Hezram’s warrior acolytes. Spears, swords, and bows slipped from their grasp. They collided with one another and collapsed in the mud. Yari’s drumbeats made Awa woozy too. Isra tugged her and the other Sprites farther downstream. Awa’s head cleared as the drumming got fainter.

Isra squeezed her hand. “Yari drums the warriors into a stupor and steals their weapons.” Isra took great pleasure in this. “You could learn to be a shadow warrior too.” Awa didn’t want to be any kind of warrior. “Holy City swords and bows will fetch a good purse. That means a feast tomorrow and supplies for our long trip home.”

“Where is home?” Awa thought Elders were always on the run with no real home.

“We usually make home, every day.”

Awa didn’t understand this answer. “Oh?”

“Nothing but danger to eat here. No time for home.”

Before Awa formulated her next question, Yari and one of Hezram’s acolytes trotted down the creek, chatting and smiling like two friends. They both carried a bundle of weapons.

“Only the youngest dropped all the way to sleep.” Yari grinned. “I had to reason with the others.” Awa wished she’d seen that.

Isra grumbled. “How much did reason cost?”

“A few bags of herbs.”