The Nameless Girl nodded.

Her alte-bubbe gave a wide, frowning shrug. “This you call a life? To wander around forever, cut off from everyone else?”

The Nameless Girl scoffed cruelly. “And what you have is so much better? You creep around in the shadows, follow your daughter from place to place, until she finally dies and you have nothing better to do than sit alone in her empty room?”

“No, it’s not better,” said her alte-bubbe. “That’s precisely my point: it’s exactly the same. But I lived many good years before I died.”

“And I’ll live and live and live without dying!” said the Nameless Girl angrily.

At this, her alte-bubbe chuckled sadly, her eyes taking on a faraway sheen. “This you call a life?” she asked again.

The Nameless Girl was even angrier now, and she rose from the bed now and went to the window.

Below, Lilith sat waiting.

After a long moment, her alte-bubbe spoke. “Do you want to know what it’s like?”

“What?” said the Nameless Girl.

“What you’re running from,” said her alte-bubbe.

The Nameless Girl didn’t respond.

“It’s nowhere near as bad as you think. You’re living your life, going about your business, and you meet someone: a Visitor in Dark Clothes. You have a talk, perhaps, or maybe even not—perhaps your eyes just meet. And the next thing you know, you’re in the Far Country. And I’m sure you found it strange, and I’m sure you found it uncomfortable, but you have to understand: it’s not for you. It’s for people who can no longer change. That’s why there’s always snow. That’s why the sun never rises. You arrive in the Far Country, and you seek out a comfortable, familiar place—a kitchen, a marketplace, a synagogue—and if you manage to avoid the scavengers, the demons like Lilith who try to divert you from what you ought to be doing, eventually you find yourself bored. Listless. Because in your kitchen in the Far Country, nothing’s ever finished cooking. In the marketplace in the Far Country, your shopping’s never done, and in the synagogue, the service is never through. You become bored. And you decide to move on.”

This didn’t sound quite so bad.

“And then what?” said the Nameless Girl.

“I don’t know,” said her alte-bubbe. “I haven’t done it yet. But this I can tell you: there’s only one building in the Far Country that stays put—a tall stone tower with many sides that reaches up and up beyond the clouds.”

The Nameless Girl’s stomach lurched. She knew that place. “Death’s house,” she said softly.

“I can’t tell you what happens inside,” said her alte-bubbe. “But I can say this: everyone goes in eventually. Everyone. And no one is ever forced.”

“But my name,” said the Nameless Girl. “My name and my face…”