“Did it hurt?” I ask softly. Another too-probing question. Melinoë stops walking. The wind lifts the long strands of her ponytail and makes her white hair shiver around her face. I stop, too, and just watch her. Beautiful and pale, she’s too bright in this world of muted browns and greens. She’s silent for so long that I give up on her answering, and start to turn around again, but then—her voice. Quietly, without looking over at me, she says, “Yes.”
