THE setting sun had nearly disappeared, nearly gone, its last faint glow bleeding into the horizon, when Xaniyah dragged herself up the tacky-looking wooden stairs. The basket she carried swung loosely in her hand, empty as it had been when she and Ayel parted ways. She was tired, her shoulders aching from the long day, but her spirit was strangely lightened after the peaceful evening she had spent at the hills with Ayel. It was so wonderful.

Pushing the door open, she stepped into the dimly ...