“That’s it, Lavinia,” she said, tugging a fur tighter around her shoulders. “You have such a talent for it.” “I still can’t wield them like, Nisar,” I complained, my voice Lavinia’s as I relived the memory from her point of view. I scowled over at the boy who always held everyone’s attention with his gifts and a bitter jealousy filled me. “You’re only fourteen, in time you will wield them better than anyone in our tribe,” the old woman said. “You’re destined for greatness.” “Do you really think so?” I asked. “I know so. It’s written in the stars.” “Don’t tell her stories,” a large, bearded man
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