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“Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m fine.” Mafalda’s thoughts strayed to her only fear. “Lucia, I need to know you’ll be okay without me. Then I can... sleep.”
Lucia fell silent a moment. “I will be.”
“You know what to eat, don’t you? And what to avoid?”
“I know.”
They ate plants that grew wild, like dandelion, chicory, wild parsley, celery, onions, and garlic. They ate prickly pears because the juicy pink flesh satisfied thirst as well as hunger. They found figs, on lucky days. They avoided most mushrooms out of caution. When they were near the sea, they ate samphire that grew on cliffs and sea urchins. They ate snails, rabbits, lizards, frogs, and, in leaner times, the bark of trees.
“Lucia, you know which trees have limbs that break in a storm. You know not to walk underneath?”
“I do.”
Lucia had learned to identify trees of all kinds. Her favorites were Judas trees with their peach-colored blossoms and almond trees with their pretty white and pink petals, though they were so valuable they were grown behind walls with armed guards.
“Lucia, you know not to pick almonds, don’t you? The guards will shoot you.”
“Yes, Mamma.”
“No oranges or lemons, either.”
“I know.”
Lucia took such joy in nature, and they reveled together in the wildflowers of the countryside, the wild roses in red and bright pink, the fragrant freesia in pure white, and crocus, nasturtium, crane’s-bill, Jove’s-beard, grape hyacinth, geranium, and so many others.
“You know which bramble has the long thorns, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And you must anticipate bad weather. Watch the sky and the clouds.”
“I will.”
Lucia had learned to predict the weather by the clouds and how to prepare for the winds that swept across the island: the dangerousgrecalethat had killed so many in Porticello, and thescirocco, a sandstorm from Africa that would send them running for cover. Afterward, they would shake red dust from their hair and wipe it from the folds of their ears.
“Lucia, watch out for wolves. You know what their tracks look like. You have to look in the daytime, so you know where they are.”
“I do. I will.”
“And listen for when they howl at night. You can tell where you are by the stars or the land. You know Cape Zafferano is on the one side and Mount Pellegrino on the other.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You have our knives, don’t you?”
“Yes, in my bag.”
“Always keep the bag with you. Practice your throwing every day.” Mafalda had taught Lucia to throw a knife, the way she used to throw rocks. Lucia had excellent aim, even better than Mafalda’s.
“People are your biggest danger. Stay away from them. Be careful in the villages. Even at night, if someone sees you, tell them you’re a boy named Luca.”
“I will.”
“Don’t kill anyone unless you have to defend yourself.”
“I won’t.”
