There were many novices returning from the Estuary as Leela crossed Dendra’s Bridge. Some waved at her or smiled, but most gave her suspicious looks. Leela could not blame them; she had not chosen this life the way they had. She was not truly one of them.

Leela saw Koreen with Atana again and also their friend Daina, but the pretty Cerulean girl did not appear to see her—or if she did, she pretended she hadn’t. Leela waited for a sting that did not come. The time when Koreen’s opinions had mattered to her was long gone. She had new friends now, truer ones than Koreen or Atana or Daina had ever been.

The cool waters of the Estuary were a balm against her skin, washing away three days of dirt and sweat and exhaustion. Leela floated on her back and stared up at the stars, her blue hair spilling out around her face, gentle waves lapping over her stomach and her breasts. She remembered the last time she had bathed here with Sera, the day she had given her the moonstone necklace. How much had changed since then.

At last, she emerged from the water, clean and slippery as a sun trout, and dried herself with her old dress before pulling on her new novice robe. The walk to her mothers’ dwelling felt the same and different all at once. It was a path she knew so well, but the dwelling was not her home any longer.

Lanterns were lit in the kitchen, golden light spilling out of the windows. Leela hesitated in the doorway, fearful all of a sudden that her mothers would not wish to see her. But then her purple mother came into the hall with a bolt of seresheep wool in her hands.

“Leela?” she gasped, and the wool thudded to the floor.

“Hello, Purple Mother,” Leela said. She should call her Ilianne now, she thought, and her other mothers Rooni and Lastra. She did not live at home any longer, and so must address her mothers by their given names. But she found she could not bring herself to do that quite yet. She could not bear to part with that last piece of her old self.

Her purple mother flew toward her and flung her arms around her. And then her other mothers were there hugging her and crying, and Leela had never felt so loved yet so alone.

“We miss you so much,” her green mother whispered.

“I miss you too,” Leela whispered back.

Her mothers pulled away, her orange mother fussing over her robe while her purple mother tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Are you all right? Have you eaten? You must be starved. We have some cauliflower cooking, and your green mother is making her famous purple barley salad, with arugula and lemon, just how you like it.”