"It's true," she said. "No one has been here much longer than half a year, at this point. Except for the natives." Who were, on the whole, much friendlier than the natives of Deerington had been. Strange and fascinating, of course. But in an entirely different way.

She walked over to the kitchenette, filling up her trusty tea kettle in the sink. Tea was, more or less, the only thing she ever made in the kitchen. So she liked to think she made it very well.

Which didn't mean, of course, that she didn't move with incredible caution as she lit the stove. Fire was fire, no matter how practiced. And she never trusted it, entirely.

"Those of us who remember Deerington," she said, stepping back from the stove, "first started arriving all in one month. It was a bit of a shock for us. Because Deerington was falling apart. Like a...well, like a dream in the middle of ending. There were seams in reality Everything around us was unraveling. And then we were in the sea, brought up to the shore here."