“Luna, wait up,” Cora shouts but I keep on walking. I do not mean to be rude; I just want a moment to myself.
“Why are you so upset?” Cora pants as she catches up with me.
“It’s kind of disturbing,” I admit after a while as we head for the hill. “This whole time, I feel like I’m this weak damsel in distress. Someone that freaks out for nothing and needs babysitting and then, out of the blue, I can kick a giant to the ground.”
“That’s awesome, not disturbing,” she argues.
“It’s scary not knowing yourself, Cora,” I sigh. “The questions are never-ending in my mind. Why and how do I know to fight like that? Did I learn as a sport or occupation?”
“Maybe you should look at it differently,” Cora suggests. “Rather see it as a clue or a lead to regaining your memory.”
“Maybe,” I sigh. For me
