One day, about three quarter-moons after the Ganateans had come, Darna was walking past Kinner’s mother’s house when she heard a muffled sob. She glanced up and down the road to confirm that she was alone. Everyone in the village seemed to be constantly glancing over their shoulder to see what was coming up from behind. She did the same, whether because she’d caught the habit from them or because she was still worried about assassins, she wasn’t sure.
She walked around the side of the house as quietly as she was able. There, sitting on the back step, was the ragged-robed priestess, still crying as she’d been when Darna had spotted her inside the cottage on that first day. The priestess looked up, saw Darna, and scrambled to her feet. Her face was long and pale, young-looking except for th
