Leaving Dhaligir on the ground, Kylara emerged from the alley gripping the knife.

She took a second to reorient. She had a horrible sense of direction when she wasn’t using the Sight as a crutch. It didn’t help that Kookaburra Creek’s buildings all looked the same.

She turned around, trying to get a sense of where she was.

Something caught her eye.

Ah. The butcher’s shop. That meant she was on the corner of–she turned around again–High Street and Moore Street. That also meant, by some luck, that she was just a few doors down from the town healer.

Dhaligir would be fine.

She quickly jogged over and knocked on Imla’s door. It said:

Pʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋ ʟᴏᴜᴅʟʏ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ.

I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴏɴʟʏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ɪʟʟ ᴏʀ ɪɴᴊᴜʀᴇᴅ.

Fᴏʀ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟs, ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ Gɪʟғᴏʀᴅ.

The sign seemed a bit redundant to Kylara. Kookaburra Creek was small enough everyone knew Imla. They had probably been treated by her before. Unless you counted Marina and Elodie the midwives, Imla was the only healer in town.

On Kylara’s third knock, Imla emerged.

She was older than she'd looked at first glance—a lot older, in fact. But her hair was still dark, a mass of brown curls that fell past her shoulders. They made her look younger than she was. A glance at her hands, however, showed her age. They were old and wrinkled with sun.

Imla stared at her. “What?” she said.

“Dhaligir’s hurt,” Kylara said.

Imla didn’t react other than a slight raise of her chin. “Explain,” she said.

Kylara pointed at the alleyway and quickly told her what had happened.

Imla nodded along to the story. That was good news. Kylara had been nervous at first because she had not talked to the healer since the fire. She had not been sure how the woman would react to her, but she seemed attentive enough.

“Give me a moment,” Imla said when she had finished her story. She then slammed the door on her face rather abruptly.

“Alrighty then,” Kylara muttered to the closed door, annoyed. “I’ll just wait here then.”

A few minutes later, Imla reemerged holding a medicine bag and what looked like an old shirt. She looked more annoyed than anything.

“Where is he again?” Imla asked.

“I left him there,” Kylara pointed. “He’s probably still there. I don’t think he’ll have been able to move far on his leg.”

“If I know that boy,” Imla said, “it won’t have prevented him from trying.” She sighed. “Hopefully he has not aggravated it too much.”

“You’ll help him?”

“Of course I will,” Imla said. “My job is to help everyone. Even idiots.”

“Right,” Kylara said, shifting on her feet a little. “Do you need anything? My help or…” Perhaps she had explained Dhaligir’s situation a bit too unsympathetically. People didn’t tend to pick up on her biases as much as they should.

“You're welcome, my dear, but no.” Imla patted her on the back. “And I'll be here if you need me. Just knock. My place is open anytime.”

“Er, thanks,” Kylara said, turning away. She smiled. She didn’t think she would take Imla up on it, but it was always nice to know you were welcome. “And if you end up needing me, I’ll be at my granddad’s.”

Imla nodded and they parted ways. She would head to her grandad’s house next. He would want to know what happened–both with Dhaligir and with the butterflies before.

Roy Kunyjiri’s house was nearly at the exact centre of town, set back in a cluster of three other houses, all connected. She was practically there already.

Kylara could see it as she turned the corner. It looked like most of the older houses in town, with two exceptions. One, it was bright blue. The other was that it had no veranda. Only a roof with large enough overhang that you could stand under it, in the shade of the eaves.

Kylara eyed the door wearily. She wasn’t looking forward to this. Fucking Dhaligir had to ruin her day. Not only would she have to tell him about the butterflies, but she had to tell him that she had been attacked as well.

She rolled her shoulders and sighed as she walked up to the door before stopping. She thought for a second, then walked back down the steps and looked at her reflection in the nearest window.

Wide mouth, slightly slanted brows, sharp features. She turned a bit to get a better look at her profile.

The cut on her check was very visible, which was not good. It also looked like she had some swelling on the left side of her face. One of her cheekbones seemed larger than the other. Great.

She tidied her hair up then moved closer to the window.

Yup.

Either she was pretty severely swollen, or the reflection was warped. It was hard to tell which one it was. Did people usually swell that quickly? She shook her head. Either way, the fight was going to be hard to hide.

Oh, what was she thinking? Imla would gossip to all the town aunties anyway.

Sighing, she wiped some of the blood off her cheek. That was as good as it was going to get. Time to face her grandfather. She turned and went back up the steps.

Kylara had only gone a few steps when the world started swaying behind her feet. The horizon just tilted.

Brows furrowing, she looked down at the railing she had smacked into. She gripped it hard, knuckles tight. Everything was spinning around her—the steps, the building, the people walking in the street. She squinted. The lanterns were so bright. Something about the way they shun made everything look distorted. And the porch–the porch was burning.

She tried to focus on a light to steady herself. They were the only thing she could really make out.

Then the world did a lurch.

Kylara staggered and tried to find the railing again, but her hands gripped only empty air. Had she misjudged the distance? She never did that.

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Confused, she tried to make it to the nearest wall. She needed to use it to break her fall, because staying standing on the stairs was not an option for long.

She never made it to the wall. All she managed to do was to walk in a half circle, then stumble and fall. She crumpled with a thud on the verandah. Her head hurt as if she had been struck by a physical blow despite landing on her hands.

What was happening? Nothing made sense. Everything was so confusing. The world tilted again, spinning like a top. She felt like she was going to be sick. She had expected the dizziness to lesson once she was on the ground, but if anything it made it worse. It was like she was underwater–there was no difference between up and down.

Something was wrong with her balance, and something was wrong with the lights.

Closing her eyes, she waited, praying to the gods it would be over soon.

Then a voice called out to her.

Kylara couldn’t make out the words, which were muffled though a haze of distance. Ignoring them, she tried to get up again. Or at least sit up. She knew that logically, the sky was up, but could not seem to coordinate her feet or her head to get there.

Even the concept of the sky seemed off.

She rolled over on the ground. The sky was beginning to darken, but some of the sun’s rays was still creeping over the horizon. The Grace Moon already in the sky. The Grandmother Moon would follow in a little under an hour.

That suddenly seemed right.

The light… that was the thing.

The light was up. She had to follow the light.

It was so, so very important. It called to her.

She could see the path form before her. It pulled, and she felt a strange tugging sensation in her mind.

The light is the moon, she realised.

The moon was good. The moon was bright. If the moon was above her, it would show her where she needed to go.

That meant she had to move. She crawled sideways, to the house. Closer… closer.

She reached up to touch it.

The moon was much hotter than she expected it to be. It made her flinch back. This was not how it was supposed to be. But she could not remember what it had been like before.

Somehow, she managed to flip her body around and reached with her other hand. She had to reach. She didn’t know how else to move. This was the only way.

The sound of a door opening echoed through her ears. Then some shouting.

Arms wrapped around her shoulders.

Shaking.

Someone helped her sit up.

Words.

No.

No.

She needed to reach the light. Then it would tell her which way to go.

More words.

They were speaking to her, Kylara realised after a moment. She concentrated, but couldn’t quite make it out.

She fought to get out of the haze.

There was something affecting her, something external that was changing her thoughts and senses.

Navigation, she thought. It is affecting my sense of balance–my sense of up and down, and to a lesser extent my thoughts, vision, and movement.

She switched to the Sight. Then did something she did not usually do–she closed her eyes.

With her eyes shut, her vision consisted of only the Sight. She could still see the trigger wards she had up–not many, perhaps a few dozen in town and a few more by the border. She could see the outline of the Desert. It circled almost entirely around them, but only ventured close to town in the east.

Kylara focused harder, and more objects started appearing. This was something she had been practicing. She could just about make out her own hand. It did not spin. It did not even shake.

A slight headache formed and she stopped.

Best focus on the steady overlines of the Sight, not the advanced stuff. Simple. Simple was best.

Closing her eyes had helped a lot, but she could tell something was wrong. It wasn’t just the light, it was the heat too. Her skin prickled.

She focused on that sensation, and to her surprise, she realised someone was holding her hand. She squeezed it tight. It squeezed back.

A small smile creeped onto her face. Yes, she could handle this. It would go away eventually. It had to. She wasn’t sure what would happen if it didn’t. It wasn’t even an option to consider.

It took a few minutes, but it did. The world suddenly stopped spinning.

Kylara opened her eyes and blinked. “It’s gone,” she said breathily. She rolled over on her back. “It’s gone,” she repeated.

Just as suddenly as the effect had come, it had vanished.

She looked up at her grandad, who was holding her.

“It’s gone?” he asked.

She nodded, then he pulled her into a gentle hug.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. She winced at the light and rubbed her head. There was no pain. Whatever it was, it was gone. Other than feeling a little tired, she was completely fine. Even the brightness–she was pretty sure that was from closing her eyes for so long, and not from the effect.

“What happened?” her grandad asked. He looked down at her with a kind smile and worry in his eyes.

“I’m not sure…” Kylara said, using the side of the house as support to stand up. She did not think she needed it, but it was best to be sure. She did not want to fall again.

She frowned. It was hard to map her fuzzy proprioception with her surroundings, but she was close to the wall. Very close, almost touching. And while she couldn’t remember the feeling of hitting it, she definitely could remember some sort of barrier that had been in her way. Had she been smacking into the wall? Why?

“What was I doing?” she turned and faced her grandad. “When you found me, what was I doing?”

“I was going to ask you the same,” he said, “Jenna found you sprawled out in the dirt, trying to reach for the lamp here,” he pointed at the metal lamp bolted to the side of the house. “You kept trying to stand up and touch up it. Oh, Kylara,” He pulled her into another hug, “I was so worried about you. You weren’t responding to us.”

“Where’s Jenna?” Kylara asked, pulling away from the hug and looking around. She did not see the grey-haired woman anywhere.

“Oh,” he said, “she just left. She went to go find some young men who could pick you up and carry you inside. “This– we thought,” he gestured vaguely and paused, trying to reframe what he was about to say, “what I mean is, we thought it best to bring you inside.”

“Right,” Kylara nodded. She knew what he meant.

She looked around. There were not too many people around–less than a dozen, in fact. And not a single one of them was watching her. In fact, they were doing a very good job of not watching her, each one keenly interested in something else.

That meant she would be the talk of the town in a few hours. Great.

“What happened?” her grandad asked. “There’s blood on your face–and what were you trying to do to the lamp?”

Kylara looked at it. Just a lamp. A simple, ordinary, everyday lamp. “I thought it was the moon,” she said dumbly.

“What?”

“I’m not sure which one,” Kylara mused, “but definitely one of them.” Had she been thinking of a specific moon, or just the general concept? “Either the Grace Moon or the Grandmother Moon, I can’t remember.”

He frowned. “I’m not following–”

“This wasn’t me,” she interrupted, “or at least, I don’t think so. It was some sort of outside force or– oh.” She knew who this was.

So, so obvious, how could she have not seen it before.

“I think it was Dhaligir,” she said.

“Rangar’s boy?”

“I think, yeah.” She did not remember much about Dhaligir’s family, but that sounded about right. Rangar’s mother had been one of Kylara’s grandmother’s closest friends before she had passed.

“Why would he want to hurt you? And how?”

“An entad. I think he was holding one. You know why,” Kylara said. She wiped some of the remaining blood off her face. “He just tried to pick a fight with me.”

Her grandad looked at her funnily. “I won the fight,” she added.

At that, he looked sideways at her and slightly parted his wrinkled lips. “Good,” he said after a moment.

“Good?” Kylara questioned.

“Good,” he repeated. He stared at her and, catching something in her body language, burst out laughing. “Good,” he choked out. “Of course you won, what was I thinking? Silly me, of course. Shame on me for worrying.”

Oh no.

Kylara knew that look. “Are you about to give me a lecture about how grandparents are supposed to worry?” she asked.

He laughed. “Nah,” he said, pointing behind her. Kylara spun around to follow his finger. “I’m not about to, but I will. Just not now. Jenna’s here, so I’ll save that lecture for later.”

Jenna, the woman who had apparently first noticed Kylara’s fit, was walking towards them.

Two young men tailed behind her–Marcus and Errakai. Kylara did not know them, even more so than she did not know Dhaligir, but she recognised them because they were around her age.

“Oh,” Jenna said, seeing her standing, “you’re up. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kylara said. She did not like all the fuss, especially when people were still watching.

“Are you sure? Because Jenna told us–” Marcus started, before Errakai hushed him.

“Shut up, Marcus,” Errakai muttered under his breathe as he elbowed the other boy. “She doesn’t want to hear it.”

“I’m fine, really,” Kylara said.

There were at least six people in the street watching her, as well four women in the neighbouring houses. Kylara was keeping an eye on them, just as they were on her.

She gave her grandad a significant glance, and he nodded. “Let’s go inside,” he said. “Jenna, come talk to me later. And boys, thanks for your help but I don’t think we’ll be needing it.”

“I should at lest get Imla,” Jenna said, “just to get her looked over.”

“She’s busy,” Kylara said. “Don’t bother.”

“What about Marina?” Marcus asked. “I know she’s not a healer like Imla, but–”

“I want to talk to my granddaughter privately,” Roy interrupted, with the kind of authority in his voice that showed the conversation was over. He turned briskly away, then looked back at the group who had come to help. “I’ll send for Imla if we need it,” he said. He walked over to the door and opened it, ushering Kylara inside. “Come on,” he said.

Kylara followed him. “Thanks,” she muttered under her breath.

“No worries,” he mouthed back.