The sun was high in the sky when Clara woke up. She stared at the next bed and saw that Mirela was no longer there, but in front of the wardrobe door tying her boots.

"Good Morning," she said, getting up and braiding her hair.

Mirela had straight blond hair, blue eyes, and a skin full of freckles that might have settled there due to the sun. Her clothes, a pair of pants and a tank top, were black. She had a scar on the right side of her face that ran from cheek to chin and by the bright red that still outlined it, Clara was sure that it was a recent injury. Mirela was tall and thin, but there were clearly muscles in her arms and hands full of calluses and small scars. The blonde girl also had rings on her left ear and one on her nose which made her look wilder and threatening.

"Morning," Clara sat on the bed as she slid her fingers through the wound at the base of her skull still sore.

"It still hurts, doesn't it? Let me take a look," said Mirela, in a tone that sounded more like an order. She came towards Clara and lowered her head. "They're dry. Nana did a great job. I don't think even Dr. Rezende could do a better job." And straightening up added, or rather, commanded: "Come, let's have something to eat. You must be starving."

They passed over the narrow and long corridor, finding other people on the way probably going in the same direction. Clara felt uncomfortable standing among so many people, dizzy, suffocating. She doesn't remember anything about her or her past but being exposed was something that she rather avoids as much as possible.

"Why did you come up that story about being your cousin?" Clara asked in a low voice as they walked down a flight of stairs.

"It was the only thing I thought at that moment to stop the guards and keep you alive. With that whole mess and you there, the patrols would not even think twice about firing first and then asking."

"In this case ... thank you."

"I didn't do this for you. I did it because Nana asked me to."

Mirela, walked beside her as they passed through large doors at the end of a corridor towards a large hall, with huge metal tables lined up, where several people were together, eating and talking. The buzz of voices was so loud that Clara could barely hear what Mirela was saying.

The other girl took her to a large line that led to a kind of station where other people handed trays to those in line. There, Clara could see the dining room: a few narrow windows were located on a background wall.

"Do you know how I got here?" Clara whispered, afraid that someone could hear her.

"When the alarms rang, and I got to the patio, I thought it was odd that Nana was not there. A woman told me she had been seen going to the basement shelters and so after looking for her a long time, I heard her screaming inside one of the bedrooms. Then she told me that you had been found by Daniel, injured and did not remember anything and you had arrested her there, probably trying to escape." Mirela explained as they walked in line, avoiding Clara. "And then she asked me to go after you."

"How did you find me?"

"Being honest? By chance... I tried to think like someone who does not know our Cell. The main gate seemed the perfect pick."

"What about the cousin's story? Do you really have a cousin in Cell 2?"

"I created the history. And yes, I had a cousin there, but she died last summer."

"Are not they going to check this information?"

"I doubt it. We have many other problems to worry about than you and in addition, it's a great story. You came along with the grocery staff to see me because I got hurt." Mirela finished in a proud tone and pointed at the scar on her face. "A knife in the last attack of the government troops."

After picking up their trays, both girls headed to the area where the tables were, making Clara feel even more uncomfortable being surrounded by so many people.

"Your call." Mirela gestured broadly toward the tables.

Clara did not think twice and hurried to the most secluded table at the far end of the great hall as Mirela followed her.

"For a moment, I thought you would cross the wall. I think I've ever sat here, although... well, from this place we have a beautiful view of the rest of the room." Mirela took a big bite of her apple as Clara scanned her own tray. "Hey, it's better to eat than see!" Mirela showed a wry smile and, after, frown "What? Are you going to tell me you've never seen food before?"

Clara was embarrassed, but honestly, she did not remember seeing anything that was in front of her, except for the little apple.

"This white one is called tapioca. I have no idea from what it comes, but it's one of the best things the kitchen staff can cook. Usually, they put banana stuffing... and this" she pointed to another item in the tray "It's made of mashed potatoes, but I do not know its name." she chewed her tapioca and grinned. "Come on ... you can eat. It is not poisoned!"

Clara took the tapioca in her hands and began to eat, closing her eyes to feel the sweet taste of the filling mixing in the dough. She tried to recall some memories that the taste might bring to her, but nothing happened.

"Say something, please. You're freaking me out." Mirela assumed that authoritative tone as before, and as Clara opened her eyes, she could feel a mixture of concern and distrust with which the other girl was looking at her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Since I was isolated from everyone all these days ..." she paused for a moment. "I had forgotten how good was to eat something else than a soup."

"Don't let Nana listen to you! She would be very disappointed to know you didn't like the broth she makes." Mirela whispered, leaning close to Clara so no one would hear her. Then, she moved away. "Nana said you were very injured when Daniel found you and brought you here." Mirela pushed the tray away and rested her elbows on the table, leaning closer to Clara so the others could not hear them. "It seems that he had left the combatant's camp to search the surroundings and came back with you here, unconscious."

Mirela looked at her intensely, as trying to read Clara's mind, making her shrink involuntarily.

"Nana told me there are nurses and wounded people here... Why didn't he take me to the infirmary? That would have been the regular procedure, wouldn't it?" Clara narrowed her eyes at Mirela, but apparently the girl knew too little.

"Well, I don't know, and I don't care." replied the blonde girl after a few seconds, shrugging. Something in the tone she used intrigued Clara. "I just know what Nana told me: when he was returning to our camp during a mission, he heard some shouting and saw that guards of the Government troops were with you and went there to help." Mirela looked as Clara but not wanted to show.

Clara looked at her silently, absorbing that information. She had to assemble the puzzle. If she could remember nothing before the attack, then at least she could start putting the pieces together from there and only one person had this information.

"And is he here? This guy, Daniel?"

"No... he will come back tomorrow. His group accompanied our leader to provide security for him on next radio conference with other cells."

Clara checked with the corner of the eye that a young man was heading to their table.

"I can see you feel better!" said the young man, sitting down next to Mirela who looked at him in surprise.

"You already came back!" Mirela was excited.

"There was no fun without you, my darling!" the boy smiled at Mirela as she gave him a shoulder bump and laughed. "And who are you, by the way?" he asked, gazing at Clara.

"She is my cousin, Clara. Cell 2." replied Mirela quickly. "And this is Joao, a good friend of mine."

"Sorry... I don' t think I've fully recovered yet." Clara replied looking at her now empty tray.

Mirela and her friend chatted excited. Clara, on the other hand, remained concentrated in silence, observing the place that was gradually cleared. The vast majority were young, but also some people in their 30s or 40s were there, some were injured, with arms or legs immobilized. Apparently, the kitchen staff was the oldest, in their 50s, and they also struggled to get around, others even with lacking members. She realized only the elderly, sick, or injured, unable to fight, remained in the Cell. Besides age, another aspect which seemed to separate people in the Cell from combatants were the clothes: all the combatants, even injured, wore entirely black clothes as Mirela wore, basically, trousers and T-shirt or tank top.