Shandy wears her unruly red curls in a messy braid down her back. It stops a few inches above her waistline. She’s not wearing a belt, and her Sperry boots are loose on her feet. I watched her wrangle the last of her curls into the braid and jam her feet into the boots, her face a blank mask while I hustled her through the motions. The dying fire throws light and shadow over her face. Torie tightens her grip on my wrist, tugging me forward, but I look back over my shoulder ag