Solma kicks her blade foot into the tree stump she’s been sitting on, making Olive jump and swear.
“This ain’t getting us nowhere!” Solma hisses.
Under the shade of the oak where Addie’s butterflies congregate, Tobias and Nessa both cast wary looks in Solma’s direction. Solma reddens.
“No,” Olive says, her gaze accusing, “Your tantrums ain’t getting us nowhere. They ain’t gonna tell us nothing if you keep on like that.”
Solma scowls but does as she’s told. She hates it when Olive’s right, and she’s right most of the time. The mid-morning heat draws sweat onto her brow and the glade is alive with insects, zipping back and forth. Above, the sky is a relentless blue. Solma settles on the tree stump, hitches her pants up and unstraps her prosthesis. She unwraps the cloth from around her l
