Though Sinda had said she wouldn’t introduce us to Old Faye, she followed us out onto the larger platform, and seemed almost disappointed when Kyer and I headed straight for the right person. The woman by the stairs was the only one old enough to be called Old, in my opinion. As we approached, she c****d her head to one side as if listening to our footsteps, but she didn’t turn to look at us. When we stopped in front of her, I could see why.
Her eyes were a milky, as if clouded over. Her hair, white and wispy, had been braided into a single, thin plait that hung over one shoulder, but a halo of frizz surrounded her face. Deep lines etched across her skin, adding folds and crevices. Her jaw worked continually, as if she were chewing something, but when she spoke, her mouth was empty—comple
