Mona followed Celia Ashcroft for the entire day.
Not closely.
She wasn't built for closely, not above ground, where the light came at her wrong even through the lenses.
She followed the mole way, by the wrongness of a thing moving through her territory, surfacing at the edges of it to check.
Celia went to the upper library. Mona was three shelves over, lenses up, not reading.
Celia took lunch in the Class A wing.
Mona stood in the corridor outside it, planted, until a prefect moved her along and she drifted ten feet and planted again.
"She's tracking her," Maren said. She'd come to watch and stayed because it was the best thing she'd seen all week. "She's actually tracking her, like a job."
"She thinks it's a job."
"It's not?"
"It's the other thing." Soren watched Mona resurface at the far end of the hall, fix on the Class A door, hold. "She just doesn't have the word for it yet."
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Selah found it funny.
