Most of the men and women in the meadow are busying themselves with preparations of their own feast, separate from the villagers outside. Smells of savory meat and bread waft through the air, though Coral feels numb to it all. She follows Reid blindly, only stopping when he does, around a low fire in the center of the encampment. The only ones sitting there are Cecil, perched on a log with his legs stretched out before him and his arms crossed over his chest and Margaret, whose face is bright red and puffy—she stares into the fire, each breath causing her to frantically suck in more air, on the verge...