How did the people of Stone not wallow in the same claustrophobia Amaris felt? If the peak decided one day that it had become too tired to uphold its cliff, surely one tremble would be all it would take for the goatherd, the corn farmer, the seamstress, the fiddler, and all of the town’s other laughing residents to be buried under its rubble.

Amaris had to keep her mind preoccupied to keep anxiety at bay. She busied herself studying the characteristics of the village while Odrin finished conversing with the shopkeeper, a man who’d happily prattled on about this and that. She gave them their privacy, her feet carrying her around the nearby storefronts.

“Hey!” A child’s musical call for attention floated above the sound of the fiddle.

A leather-stretched ball made from what looked like the skin of a deer hide rolled from the pressed muddy space between two homes and into the square, stopping just a few arm’s lengths from Amaris. She bent to pick it up as two children, no older than seven, ran from the alley after their toy. A third stopped at the entrance to the alley, eager to restart their game. He paused when he saw Amaris holding their ball. The boy looked at her curiously, but he did not appear afraid. He tilted his head, undoubtedly waiting for her to return it.

“Well,” he asked, somewhat impatiently, “are you going to throw it back?”

“Sorry.” She blinked rapidly at the normalcy of the exchange.

A boy with matted hair, dirty hands, and mud-caked knees waved from behind him. His disheveled appearance seemed like one born out of a day’s hard play rather than that of poverty, given his healthy, round face and the way he smiled at the others. He outstretched his arms for the ball, and Amaris tossed it gently into the air, satisfied when he caught it. He spun away, as if interacting with strangers was an everyday occurrence. The children ran off in the direction they’d come, shouting some instructions for their little sport. She marveled at what life must be like to grow up with friends, free to run, to roll in the wet earth, to see new faces, to live without fear of scrapes and scratches. She had nearly lost herself in a fantasy of what-ifs, forgetting to keep an eye on her companion.

She blinked in dismay when Odrin wasn’t where she’d left him. It had been one single heartbeat of panic, convinced she’d been abandoned, before she spotted him a few feet away.

No, he had not left her. She was not alone.

Amaris jogged quickly after him to ensure he didn’t change his mind and leave her altogether.

“Odrin!”

“I told you not to go far.” He shrugged, not looking at her.

“I was right there!”

“I saw.”