“What happened, Emelle?” Sylred asks quietly, touching my arm. “Who hurt you?” Okot asks, his tone furious. I’ve never seen him angry before. The red circles in his irises are pulsing. “It doesn’t matter,” I hedge. “I’ll heal. Besides, I have my bow and arrow again. That’s pretty exciting, am I right?” “Nope. It matters,” Ronak says, ignoring my attempt at distracting them. “He’s right. Tell us, Scratch.”
