“You poor thing,” I say. I know I’m going to heal him before I take my first step down the alley. He purrs when I kneel down next to him, and when I place my hand on his fur there isn’t resistance. The iciness flows quickly from me to the cat, quicker than it did to Ella or my own cheek, and I don’t know if the Legacy is getting stronger or if it works faster on animals. His legs straighten and paws spread wide, and his breathing picks up until it melts into a loud purr. I gently turn the cat over to inspect his right side and see that it’s completely healed and covered with a lush coat of black fur. The eye that was swollen shut is now open and looking up at me. I name him Legacy and say, “If you want a ride out of town, Legacy, then we should talk. Because I think I’m leaving soon, and I could use the company.”

I’m startled by a figure appearing at the end of the alley, but it’s just Héctor pushing his mother in the wheelchair.

“Ah, Marina of the sea!” he yells.

“Hi, Héctor Ricardo.” I walk towards them. His mother looks slumped and distant, and I worry she’s gotten worse.

“Who is your friend? Hello, little man.” Hector bends down to scratch Legacy’s chin.

“Just some company I’ve picked up along the way.”

We walk quietly, chatting about the weather and Legacy, until arriving at Héctor and his mother’s front door. “Héctor? Have you seen the man with the mustache and book at the café recently?”

“No, I have not,” he says. “What is it about this man that bothers you so much?”

I pause. “He just looks like somebody I know.”

“Is that everything?”

“Yes.” He can tell I’m lying but also knows enough not to pry. I know he’ll be on the lookout for the man I believe is a Mogadorian; I just hope he doesn’t get hurt.

“It was good to see you, Marina. Remember that today is a school day.” He winks. I nod sheepishly, and he unlocks his front door, backing inside, pulling his sick mother along with him.

The coast is clear over my shoulder and I continue with my walk for a while, thinking about the Chest, when I will be able to talk again with Adelina. I also think about John Smith on the run, Ella and her possible adoption, my fight last night in the nave. At the end of Calle Principal, I stare at the school building, hating the front door and the windows, angry at all the time I’ve spent inside when I should have been on the move, changing my name with each new country. I wonder what I would name myself in America.