Wait.
She turned her head.
At the tree line.
The specific, dark shapes of trees. And between them — the moonlight catching at — fabric. The pale ghost of fabric in the dark. And beside it, another shape. And another.
Her eyes adjusted.
Four shapes.
Standing at the tree line, in the shadow of the palms, not moving.
Watching.
Her breath stopped.
They were all there.
All four of them. Celia — she could see Celia's hair, the specific shape of it. Gia beside her. Aisha half-behind a palm trunk. Meijin, furthest back, arms folded.
They were watching.
Watching 'her.'
Something happened.
Something she was not expecting and could not explain and did not have the language for in the moment it happened.
