Medli knew something was wrong the day that Komali's Grandmother died. She remembered that morning, the way the wind was angry and unkind to the wings, the way Valoo seemed unsettled, the day ash began to fall from his roost. Medli knew that day would come eventually, but she was not ready for it then. She could hardly speak Valoo's ancient tongue; she was not effective at calming him down, not like her teacher. She stayed up with Komali all that night, as he sobbed and rubbed the pearl that belonged to his dead mother. She knew his pain; her own parents had been killed just before she became an apprentice attendant. All night she sang the most beautiful melodies she knew; she played her harp until her fingers blistered. She hid her own pain at the loss of her teacher by comforting the Rito prince. She promised herself then that she would be Komali's mother, his friend, his guide. But she was afraid. She had a foreboding about the coming months. Something was changing; some evil had crept into the world, and was disrupting her dear Valoo. Medli was afraid. Somewhere deep inside of her, she felt something beckoning, someone calling her name.