Woven in Moonlight

Catalina says that people are like books. Some you want to read and enjoy; some you hate before you've even read a word.

Everything always seems sweeter in the minutes before darkness descends.

Because words empowered by justice can never be silenced

Dressed in his usual black ensemble, he reminds me of the perfect night. The kind of night that makes you want to get lost somewhere. The kind of night that invites adventure and misbehaving.

Despite the danger, my protest had burst from my lips, from my heart. Because words empowered by justice can never be silenced.

I didn't create the system- I was born into it

I want to be heard too. Sometimes, when my temper gets the best of me, I'm secretly pleased.That's the real me breaking through the mask.

Words empowered by justice can never be silenced.

I'm only a copy of someone else. Just a decoy. I'm not really her. I'm not me. I don't know who I am or where I belong, if anywhere at all.

Why is it so hard to believe that even enemies may want the same things?

We float between worlds, between two sides of a war, and the promises we've made to others. Everything fades away.

We all want the same things: opportunities and means for everyone to earn their bread; freedom of self-expression without consequences; for all children, not just

I didn't create the system- I was born into it," I say at last. It feels like a fair thing to say. His face seems to be at war. A flash of anger, a sharp narrowing of his gaze, then a slight pull of his eyebrows- exasperation maybe, but smoothed away to make room for a clenched jaw. "Please stop talking before I do something I regret. Por favor." "What did I say that was so terrible?" My hands fly to my hips. "If you don't explain it to me, how am i supposed to know-" "I'm a little tired of explaining myself," Rumi says flatly. "Have been for years. And you all never listen. Do your own reading on the subject, why don't you? And then come back and we'll discuss whatever you like.

It's strange I don't fit into the box you made for me?" The smallest of smiles. "Everyone makes boxes. It's human, I think. You made one for Llacsans.

I didn't create the system - I was born into it.

He claims to want to help Llacsans and the Lowlanders, his people, then he plans for a road to cut through their territory, destroying homes and wildlife, all to easily export the koka drug to neighboring countries. Gratification, wealth, and notoriety are his real gods, and his greed invites dangerous criminals from powerful countries into Inkasisa who worship at the same altar.

I don’t care un pepino what these people think about me.

I didn’t personally mistreat the Llacsans. It’s not like I’d been cruel to my nanny. I cared for her. I gave some of my money to the homeless Llacsans I saw in La Ciudad—and that was after the revolt. After my parents died

Catalina never had the same education in survival. She was whisked away from the horror and kept safe and fed, adored child that she was. She never had to fight for a loaf of bread. Perhaps we’d done her a disservice by keeping her so sheltered? If we hadn’t, she’d have at least learned how to be strong.