Sirina flies like she has never flown before. At the onset of her journey back, she had flown for two days straight without food or rest, covering nearly half of the distance in that time before she had touched down just before dawn in a settlement and stolen a cow. She would have taken off immediately, she should have but then she had caught a glimpse of the family she had stolen from. Beaten down people, thin, malnourished, with frowns permanently carved into their faces. Their little boy had slept on a carpet so thin and so moth-eaten that he might as well have been lying down on the cold bare floor. His stomach was curved inward so hard that she had wondered whether it had not fused with his back. She should have taken off then, replenished and bearing the urgent message for her siste
