"I don't really see how I'm supposed to do that." There was a note of frustrated despair in her voice; the lightning sparked. A childish reaction, perhaps, but then: she was indeed very young.

"How do I find out 'who I am,' as you say, when all this—" she gestured to the lightning in her hair, a thread of which leaped to her lifted fingertips, "—has already happened?"

She looked into the tangled undergrowth, just to have the option of averting her eyes. "I know you're trying to help, and I'm grateful. I just..." She trailed off.