"Oh, and I think he also lost his memories," Kyra explained, seemingly oblivious to Caleb's inner turmoil. "What?" Mara gasped. Her eyes darted to Caleb, then back to Kyra, a desperate plea dawning in them. "Then, isn't there some way to restore them?" "No," Kyra said, cutting her off. "I know what you're asking, but I've already tried. My power can't bring back what's been lost from the mind." She sighed, a flicker of frustration on her face at the limits of her gift. Just as quickly, however, her expression settled into resignation. There was nothing more she could do. "So that's how it is," Mara murmured, nodding slowly as she closed her eyes. Like Kyra, she accepted the truth with a grim swiftness. What else could she do? Demand that Kyra's gift suddenly change, that she manifest a healing power beyond anything they had ever known? The thought was absurd, and she immediately pushed it away. Their gifts were set from birth. To alter one was impossible. "Come on," Kyra said, breaking the silence. "Let's sit and talk for a while." She moved a short distance away from where Caleb lay and settled onto the grass. "Alright." From his position, Caleb couldn't see his mother's face, but he heard the soft rustle of her clothes as she stood and walked over to join her friend. He watched the two women as they chatted, their voices a low murmur. A sudden breeze swept through the clearing, lifting the hem of his mother’s tunic. Neither of them seemed to notice or care. Those nipples, Caleb thought, his throat suddenly dry. He swallowed hard. Now he understood why the light fabric moved so easily. They were large and dark, as prominent as the tip of a man's thumb. "Wow! Why are your nipples so big? What have you been doing?" Kyra’s sharp eyes had noticed the same thing. She reached a hand under Mara's top, her fingers cupping the soft weight of a breast before playfully pinching the peak. "Ouch! Don't do that," Mara protested, her face flushing as she clamped an arm over her chest. Kyra raised an eyebrow. "You still haven't answered me. Don't tell me this is from receiving Rite again." She frowned. "Didn't you tell me a few months ago that you'd stopped? That nobody had bartered for you and you were tired of the embarrassment?" "No!" Mara shook her head vigorously. "It's not Rite. You know I withdrew. I didn't want the shame." Her head lowered. "Why would I bring that on myself again?" Kyra’s eyes narrowed. "Don't play games with me, Mara. The only reason I believed you then was because you always mean what you say. And didn't you stop because of those old women by your hut, the ones who kept gossiping after all the men in the village turned them down?" A sudden peal of laughter burst from Kyra. "It was hilarious! Watching them offer more and more Cora, and the men still refusing them. It served them right." "Yes," Mara agreed with a small chuckle. "That's why nobody blames the men for what they did." Kyra’s gaze remained fixed on her friend, her hand still resting on the curve of Mara’s breast. "So? Tell me." "Okay, okay, I'll tell you," Mara relented with a sigh of frustration. Meanwhile, a fierce heat coiled in Caleb’s gut. His mind reeled with questions. What in the world was Rite? Why would his mother stop doing it? Why was she so ashamed to even speak of it? The more he heard, the more his confusion grew. Despite his swirling thoughts, Caleb couldn't drag his eyes from his mother's chest. They were magnificent—the Mount Titan of breasts, he might have thought, if he hadn't already seen Kyra's. He swallowed again, trying to force himself to focus on their words. "You see, Vena gave me a Cora to breastfeed her baby," Mara explained, her voice heavy. "But you're not lactating. And isn't one Cora a small price for that?" Kyra asked, confused. "I wasn't really breastfeeding," Mara clarified. "Her mother was gone for a few hours, so I just let the child suckle for comfort and gave him some milk to drink." "Oh!" Kyra exclaimed, her face softening with relief. "You had me worried for a moment. I thought you'd done something reckless. It sounds like you got a good deal from Vena." She paused, a thoughtful look on her face. "Are you sure she wasn't just using it as an excuse to give you a Cora?" Mara nodded. "Yes, I thought of that. I'm sure it's true. She's always trying to help, knowing I have so few." Kyra reached out and playfully pinched Mara's cheek. "Then you should be happy about it. If you're going to be this gloomy, call me next time you get an offer like that. I could certainly use it," she said with a grin. "Oh, really?" Mara retorted. "And what would you use to feed the baby? These things I can barely get my hands around?" The teasing remark struck a nerve. A flash of anger crossed Kyra's face. Ever since they were girls, everyone had remarked on it: her body was far more voluptuous than Mara's, fleshier and curvier. But Mara's own figure was so thin from malnourishment that it was hard to truly compare. And while Kyra's breasts were larger than almost any other woman's in the village, the men considered them an unattractive flaw. They couldn't cup the whole of them in their hands. With a swift, frustrated motion, Kyra pulled off her tight midriff top, baring herself to the open air. She stared down at the two large, pale mounds of her chest. If only they were smaller, she thought bitterly, then I would have gotten more Rite. Suddenly, a pair of hands shot out, trying to grab her, but they failed to find a purchase.

Chapter 3: What Cannot Be Healed