Lenora's POV
Mira turned ten in the spring.
She celebrated it at the refuge, with Rowan and Senna and Kellan and seven of the confluence children who had decided she was their friend with the particular authority children have when they've made a decision. Bramwell came. Corvan came. Harlan sent a charcoal drawing of a bird — a lark — that arrived by courier the morning of the birthday.
She read the card, put the drawing on the wall of Rowan's sitting room, and then spent twenty minutes eating bread with honey before announcing that she wanted to learn something new.
"What?" I said.
"The scent-binding," she said. "The technique you use to hide your presence when you're moving through territory."
I looked at her.
"I've been watching you practice it," she said. "Near the eastern bound
