Foresthome extended farther out than I had realized. No two cabins were alike, and there were even lean-tos and tents. It consisted of a ragtag assortment of homes, storage areas, and workspaces. They explained to me how everyone contributed for the good of the community, helping where help was needed, using whatever skills they could offer.

"I help chop vegetables for the meals," Nirrin announced proudly. "And Remi—" She stopped herself and clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oops, I almost goofed again." She giggled.

"Thank you, Nirrin." Remi smiled. "I bring home meat for the meals."

"He's, like, the best hunter!" Nirrin bragged. "He won't teach me how to use a bow and arrow though."

"You're too young. If Bren gets an arrow in her butt, she'll be coming after me. You know that, right?"

Nirrin giggled again and skipped ahead.

"You're awfully quiet," he said, watching me.

"Just taking it all in," I replied.

"I love it here. I'm glad you found us."

"Technically, you found me."

He chuckled and nodded.

"Remi, Bren knew I fell from a tree. How did she know that? Did you tell her?"

"Mm-hmm, she takes care of people. I told her so she'd know what she was dealing with."

"So . . . you saw me fall?"

"Yes. I wish I had been near enough to catch you."

I thought about this. My suspicion that someone had been watching me had not been paranoia after all. "Were you . . . following me?"

He ducked his head. "Yes."

Alarms sounded in my head. Exactly how much did this boy see? How much did he know? "How long were you following me?"

"Come on," he said, changing topics and direction. "I'll show you the lake."

Nirrin noticed we had strayed off the path and followed. "I love the lake," she said. "We can catch fish, swim around, and at night, you can see all the stars!" She opened her arms wide and spun in a circle.

On the compound, seeing stars at night had never been a problem. I'd often lain on the ground gazing up at them, imagining a different life.

As we walked, I strained to see the lake ahead, but all I saw were more trees. Then, almost abruptly, we were in a clearing. The lake stretched out before me, magnificent and glistening in the sun. All I could do was stare, my mouth ajar. I'd never seen a lake before. And this, this was breathtaking.

"It's so beautiful," I whispered. Dense trees lined the opposite side of the lake, separating the water from the sky. The lapping sound along the edge was different from the constant gurgle of a river. It was soothing, a harmonious part of the forest's quiet beauty. "I've never seen anything like it."

We sat on a log, and Nirrin went to find rocks to skip along the water. My eyes never left the water. This lake, this forest, everything felt . . . right to me. As if I belonged right here, as part of this log, part of the earth beneath my feet, even the sky. The trees were an extension of me. I could sing and frolic with the birds.

Remi faded away. Even Nirrin's playful splashes faded away. I couldn't explain it. I was flooded by an immense feeling of . . . oneness.

And then it ended. A woman with a basket of laundry appeared and said, "Don't you kids have chores to do?"

"We're Siena's escorts today!" Nirrin proclaimed.

"Oh!" The woman became instantly accommodating. "I didn't see you there. I'll leave you to your business, then. Welcome to Foresthome, Siena." With a nod of her head, the woman bustled to a rocky part of the lake and began pulling clothes out of her basket.

We were soon called away for dinner preparations, and with a last look over my shoulder, we left the lake. The commons, what they called the central area with all the fire pits, was abuzz with activity. Nirrin joined the vegetable choppers. Skewers were being prepared. Small animals were being skinned, which made me queasy. Remi went to help with animal preparations, leaving me at a loss for what to do next.

"Siena, there you are." It was Bren. "Do you feel like helping out?"

I nodded.

"Wonderful. What can you do?"

The question seemed simple, and yet . . . what could I do? I could magically remove injuries with my hands, and yet I was useless in a domestic capacity. The Zurbos had kept me sequestered and never let me do any actual work.

"Can you chop?" she suggested.

"They never let me touch a knife," I replied.

"Do you know how to tend a fire?"

I looked down and shook my head, ashamed at being so incompetent.

Bren guided me away from the bustle of the commons where it was quieter, and she asked, very gently, "Siena, what did those Zurbos make you do?"

I gazed into her gray eyes, struggling to trust her enough. The truth sat on the tip of my tongue like a fat toad. It would be so easy to tell her. And then it would be so easy for her to hate me. I had no bonds with these people. They'd shun me in an instant. Nobody liked Aberrations.

I looked away, a clay lump in the pit of my stomach. She would have to draw her own terrible conclusions. I preferred her to believe the worst about me and pity me, than to know the truth and despise me.

"My poor dear." She pulled me into an embrace. "You're safe with us now."

Her hug warmed me, melting a little of my trepidation, even as guilt gnawed at the edges.

They gave me the task of stirring the giant metal pot. They called it a cauldron, which one of the Forestfolk had brought with them when they joined. Nirrin grinned at me as she dumped a basket of chopped vegetables into the cauldron. The gutted and skinned animals were set to rotate on a spit over the fire. Some of the gutted material—hearts, livers, lungs—were thrown into the pot as well. I stared into the stew as I stirred. The vegetables floated around in random patterns, but once in a while a liver or heart would surface, and a queasy lurch would twist my stomach.

When the food was ready, crowds gathered around with bowls and trays in hand. I stepped away. They lined up in an orderly fashion, but there seemed to be no rank. Women, men, children, and the elderly all mixed randomly. I hung back, biding my time to serve myself last.

"Aren't you hungry?" Remi tore a chunk of meat off a bone with his teeth.

"Yes, but . . . I should be last, right?"

He swallowed his bite and said, "Tribal rules don't apply here. You know why? We're not Plainsmen. Go get in line."

A nudge of his elbow was all I needed to join the feast.

I sat on a log, eagerly stuffing my mouth. Nirrin found me and sat beside me. We were slurping our stew with wooden spoons when I encountered a small, smooth, oblong hunk of meat. It sat on my spoon and I stared at it.

"You got a heart!" Nirrin exclaimed. "Now you get to make a wish!"

"A wish?"

"Yes! The heart was where the soul of the animal resided." Nirrin sounded like she was reciting a lesson. "And now that the vessel is empty, we fill it with a wish so that it can fulfill one last task."

It sounded beautiful, but I still couldn't bring myself to eat it. The heart was small, probably that of a squirrel. My own heart ached when I thought about that squirrel's little life, extinguished.

"You can have it," I said, and dumped the heart into her bowl.

"Really? Thank you! I got a heart!" Nirrin announced. "I get to make a heart-wish!"

The girl squeezed her eyes shut, lifted her spoon in salute, then popped the whole thing into her mouth. Her enthusiasm made me smile.