Ruth followed Shereen’s gaze back down to the strapping young woman. Together they watched her effortlessly steer the sheep through an outcropping of rock.

The wind carried the sound of mewing to their ears.

“It is strange,” Shereen continued. “But I cannot help but draw a comparison between Anna’s journey and that of the Awakeners.”

Ruth gasped, startled that Shereen would compare the strange young shepherd to those most revered Sisters.

“Consider this—both have left behind all they know to fend for themselves. Both have traveled the world in secrecy. Both have endured the knowledge that their lives were forever at risk should their identity be discovered. And both have survived by the strength of their wits and bravery.”

Ruth held still.

Shereen gazed into the distance. “And none of them,” she added wistfully, “no matter the success of their endeavors, can ever return home.”

Ruth could sense the sudden shift that had occurred in her friend—her thoughts having moved inward to dwell on her own future. For Shereen, too, would one day make the arduous journey across The Narrows to re-enter the world as an Awakener.

Ruth took her friend’s hand.

Peering again at Shereen, at the amber light gleaming in her eyes, she thought she detected something more: another set of thoughts looming above the concern for her future.

Perhaps a further suspicion about Anna? Or an inkling of Zahra’s intent?

Ruth took a deep breath and let her mind settle. Whatever Shereen had seen, she felt certain it would reveal itself when the time was right.

Anna woke to the clip-clop of hooves and the crackling of a fire. Opening her eyes, she found a jagged pane of light reaching deep inside the cave’s throat. For some reason she had slept later than usual.

Sitting up, she saw that Ruth had already come and gone. The fire had been stoked and Anna’s breakfast—a bowl of porridge and a chunk of dark, seeded bread—set on a nearby rock.

But Ruth had also left something else.

Lying alongside her breakfast was a small pile of greenery. Anna looked in disbelief, then rubbed her eyes and looked again.

It was a stack of live sycamore branches!

She leapt to her feet and drew the knobby limbs through her fingers in amazement. She supposed that Ruth wished for her to give them to the sheep.

But from where could she have possibly obtained green sycamore branches?

She brushed the mysterious branches along her palm. Their sudden appearance only served to increase the agitation she had felt growing inside her.