Late in the afternoon, Irenya stood on Mikey’s balcony and watched the valley as the sun burned a fiery path behind the western peaks. The green of gardens and forests intensified to a glowing palette in the summer haze. The world felt benign and tranquil. No sound of human toil interrupted the homeward chatter of birds, except for Mikey, who was drumming out a rhythm on the balustrade with his fingers and jiggling to the unidentifiable ‘ch—ch—ch’ sound he made. Nevertheless, both saw it at the same moment—a streak of blue, striding the gauzy golden light. Even as they watched the growing blue flash, Irenya spotted the second fleetwalker.
But Mikey appeared to have stopped breathing. His eyes were glazed as though his vitality had turned inward. He emerged and pointed to the figures in bl
