Still, that hardly mattered when the truth was that Brella, without doubt, was a treacherous liar. It rankled not knowing what the woman could be hiding. Maybe the attraction was that Brella was a mystery, a puzzle like a battle plan. Upon further examination, the theory made perfect sense. Scratch didn’t want Brella; she wanted to understand her. Brella filled the hole the absence of strategy sessions left behind. There was nothing more than that. Relief melted through her muscles, calming the tension she’d been holding all day. Brella was nothing more than a riddle, and all riddles had solutions.

Before she could refocus her eyes on the night sky, a little poke came at her shoulder. She turned to find a girl, younger than the rest, perhaps five or six. She had long white-blond hair, unkempt in a way that made Scratch’s fingers itch to pull it into some sort of manageable coif. Her skin was blue-vein fair, her eyes portholes open to the stormy sea.

“I welcome my cousin to my home in the spirit of gratitude,” the girl squeaked.

Scratch bowed, her head reverberating with memory like a sudden gong strike. “I enter my cousin’s home in the spirit of peace.”

The little girl squealed and threw herself into Scratch’s arms. It was only by the grace of her fighter’s reflexes that she managed to catch the child without toppling over.

“I’m Temperance.” The girl’s sticky nose bobbed in the air an inch from Scratch’s face. “What’s your name?”

“Scratch.”

Temperance gave her a curious pout. “That’s not a Tangled Lakes name.”

“I don’t like my Tangled Lakes name.”

“Boy, me neither.” Temperance plopped onto Scratch’s lap, which she had apparently decided was now her seat. “When did you come here? Do you miss the Lakes? Do your mama and papa live in the Lakes? I don’t really remember the Lakes that much, but my mama used to tell me stories. She said it was wet and salty. Do you have a grandma and grandpa? Have you been on a boat? I wish there were lakes here. If there were, I’m sure I would be the best sailor. Do you fish? What’s the biggest fish you ever caught?”

“Temperance.” Brella laid a steadying hand on the girl’s arm. “Why don’t you give a moment for Scratch to answer before you ask another question, hmm?”

“Sorry.” Temperance waited patiently for just under three seconds before she launched off again. “Do you know how to make a lobster trap? My papa was a lobster trapper. Can you read? Do you read books? Do you have Lakefolk friends? Do you know anyone who’s little, like me? Why is your hair tied so tight? Where do you keep . . .”