Call Spirits in Your Past **Book Two**

Chapter 1 (Monday)

Kwayo slipped through Ana's illusion of darkness into the open cave. A small fire flickered near the center of the floor, surrounded by rocks, with a thin column of smoke trailing sideways, deeper into the tunnels. That was Isaac's doing. Just like Tago and Kessa had carved seats around the edges, and Tamy had piled rubble in the corner.

A few faces turned toward Kwayo, all much more haggard than several nights ago. Ella glowed brightly; she did that most nights, especially when they couldn't make a fire.

Sorano stood from talking with Razón, forcing a smile. "Ready for midnight snacks, everybody?"

Conversations around the room fell quiet, and Kwayo's classmates drew closer to the fire pit. A pile of flat, spine-freed cacti sat beside the ring of rocks. "Um," Kwayo approached the fire circle, "all I caught was this bat."

He grimaced at the words. This wasn't the first time he'd had to hunt, but it still left a squirmy sensation in his gut.

Mrs. Aterak--Sorano--smiled anyway. "That will do. Zillie condensed some water, so we may have some decent stew."

Rielle appeared at his side, apparently having left Dryda at the watch post outside the cave. She hefted her knife. "You want to skin it?"

Kwayo offered her the bat. "No thanks. I already caught it. And you made the knife, you get to use it."

Rielle raised an eyebrow but took the animal silently. She shuffled toward Ana, who called Dryda's name and ducked through the illusion hiding their cave. Of course, Dryda would refuse Ana's offer to join them. The cave needed a lookout even during mealtimes, she'd say, and no one else could absorb sunlight later.

Kwayo turned to the fire, where Manuel used rods of carapace to suspend a pot over the flames. Kwayo shook his head; how had Rielle managed to create that? She'd found some metal debris a couple days before, but a rounded, flat-bottomed pot seemed much more complicated than a simple blade.

"Do we have a lid?" Tara asked, from beside Zillie on one of the stone benches.

"No," Manuel stepped back from the sort-of tripod. He hesitated. "Do we need one?"

"I just worry we might lose the water," Tara motioned towards Zillie, his face pale. "I don't know if he can condense much more."

Kwayo licked his semi-dry lips; that was a good point.

"Ryn," Mrs. Ater--Sorano--replied, snapping cacti pads into pieces and dropping them into the pot. "Could you make a forcefield over this?"

"Sure," Ryn muttered, and scooted across the rocky ground closer to the flames.