As the size of the task overwhelms me, I do what I do best. I cry. Tears roll down my face as I realize I was wrong. I thought, by pledging allegiance to the Horangi, I could sacrifice myself and save my family. But I can’t even do this right. Even here, even with my birth clan, I’m still the one who’s not good enough. The outsider. I’m a failure, and they will never let me be initiated after this performance.

Instead, I decide to rely on what I know rather than what I don’t. I grew up in a family of healers, and I was taught to stop pain, not inflict it. If I’m going to fail this initiation, I’m going to do it in style. Gom style.

I take one step forward and the inmyeonjo screeches. I look her in the eye with as much calmness as I can muster. “I’m not going to attack you,” I say quietly. “I am going to pick some of those flowers over there”—I point to the patch of calendula and goldenrod near her talons—“and then get some stones from the water. Will you let me do that?”

The bird-woman’s eyes become slits. “Why?” she asks with a snarl.

“Because you haven’t stopped bleeding,” I say. “And I want to heal your wound.”

She squawks and rips a chunk out of the earth with her talon. “Don’t you dare play tricks with me!”

I shake my head. “I’m not. I swear I’m telling you the truth. No tricks. I just want to get to those flowers.”

Her eyes are full of suspicion, and she has started to make a weird chattering sound that can’t be good news for me. But slowly I make my way toward her, one step in front of the other.

“Be careful!” I hear people murmur from the crowd, but no one stops me. I guess this is what they call watching a train wreck. You don’t want to look, but you can’t not, either.

I don’t know how I do it, but somehow I get closer, inch by inch, until my hair is blown back by the inmyeonjo’s beating wings. My heart is pumping so hard I can feel it pulsating in my head. Keeping my eyes glued to hers, I crouch down and cautiously pick some of the calendula and goldenrod. I may never have had a Gi, but I know that these two flowers have natural healing properties, because I’ve seen Eomma use them at the clinic.

With the petals in hand, I slowly stand back up. “Shh,” I whisper, trying to keep the inmyeonjo calm as her feathers bristle anxiously at my closeness. “I’m just going to step sideways now to get to the lake. I need some stones to grind the flowers.”