12 OPHELIA CLARK
October 18
Isra’s words were rattling around my head like marbles in a tin can.
“Sorry, I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head in bewilderment.
“It’s quite alright, child. Walk with me,” Isra said as she turned on her heels and strolled from the clearing to a path that led into the main area of the park. The clouds overhead grew darker. A storm was near, but it didn’t phase her. “Well, don’t just stand there,” Isra said, looking over her shoulder. I leaped into motion, catching up to her with a few quick steps, and apologized again. But Isra waved it off with her hand.
“Let me explain,” she began. “Many children are born diviners. They can see bits and pieces of the future. Some of them have additional abilities, like communicating with animals or interacting wi
