The boy and his mother had come to the village when the trees were beginning to blossom. Many of the villagers were uncomfortable around them — the woman made them uneasy. She was never discourteous or sour in manner, but there was something imposing in the way she carried herself.
The girl knew it was because she was a Grisha of great power. Young though she was, she could still feel it. She had never seen the woman summon, but she had heard her grandmother and mother whispering. Her grandmother was the one who had greeted the newcomers, helped them find lodgings, and she was in the woman's company almost daily.
The girl didn't know much about these engagements — they always took place behind closed doors, away from prying eyes. She did know that the woman — Milla — was intrigued by her grandmother's knowledge of plants and substances, by how she saw the human body as another solid thing. Her mother would often be present at their meetings, taking with her jars and bottles filled with liquids and powders.
Unlike his mother, the boy wasn't truly intimidating. He was a little older than the girl, barely thirteen, but he didn't speak much and possessed a seriousness that belied his age. During the first days after their arrival, he had mainly kept to himself, not seeking to make friends.
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