Kafziel was always a stubborn child. Even as a boy, he had a way of standing his ground, chin lifted, eyes sharp with determination. When he believed something was right, no amount of scolding or teasing could make him back down. Adults often called him difficult. He thought of himself as honest.
He didn’t like unfairness. It made his chest feel tight, like something was pressing inward. Even when he didn’t understand why something was wrong, he could feel it deep in his bones.
That was why he noticed her.
She lived near the edge of the neighborhood, in a small house with peeling paint and a crooked fence. The first thing anyone noticed about her was that she didn’t look like the other girls. Her hair was cut short, uneven, like she’d done it herself. She wore loose shirts and worn shor
