Mabel, episode 46, The Letters, Part 2, in which nothing becomes clear.

The

The Letters Hi, you've reached Mabel Martin. If I'm not in my dorm room, I'm probably in the forest. Either dead or alive. Leave a message after the beep.

I am not a woman who plays favorites. One squalling creature is much like another. The young of every species is useless and bleating. A drain of resources and time, and I've had my fill of children. With the endless, imbecilic demands. But you, there is something about you. You hold yourself with a curious poise. You laugh when other children would sob and pout. There are secrets in that odd little head of yours.

And I want them.

I want them if I have to dig my nails into your skull and scoop them out myself.

What is it you see?

What is it you hear?

What is it you know?

And how did you learn it?

Why you out of the whole vast populace of the entire world?

What makes you so special?

One hour? When I was 12, I watched the spirit die over and over in the wash behind my mother's house.

He was a kid, maybe 16, 17.

And I saw the bullet hit him once, twice, five times, a thousand times. I thought it

was horror, the repetition. The most gruesome, most terrifying, most appalling moment of his life,

placed on an endless loop.

I tried to save him.

We're always trying to save something.

I brought out the herbs and the fire and the words,

the ones my ancestors whispered in my ears at night, world

without end, and I prayed over him, this poor kid who died some time over the past 200

...