"One last thing," Kaya said. "If you 'did' know who she was, what would you do?"
The old man paused.
His answer didn't come quickly this time. He rubbed his thumb over the knuckle of his hand, gaze drifting to the doorway as if imagining someone standing there.
"Depends," he said at last. "If she was like you—mouthy, stubborn, armed, attracting snakes and birds and idiots wherever she goes—"
"Hey."
"—then I'd do what I'm doing now." He looked back at her. "Tell her what little I know. Warn her that everyone else will want a piece of her. And then let her walk out that door and make her own mistakes."
Kaya blinked. "That's it? No sacred protection? No locking me in a cave for my own good?"
He barked a short laugh. "Do I look like I have the energy to babysit fate? No. The last time our tribe tried to 'protect' something important, half of us died and the other half regretted surviving." His eyes hardened. "We're watchers now. Not players."
