I sit down on the front stoop next to Agatha, letting out a soft huff. I should get back to the Gardens, but I'll stay a little while first, just in case. Plus it'll be good to give my leg some rest, it's starting to get numb. I stomp it a few times to try and get the circulation going or stop whatever the hell makes it do this.

"They are," I agree, not even noticing she swore. It's not something that bothers me with kids. (And Agatha isn't exactly a kid, anyway.) "Every seven years, was it? Or six? I wonder if anyone who isn't native to Darrow has even been here long enough to have experienced it the first time."