"Raven," I repeat, with a smile. Like the bird. The birds Tris is so afraid of, and yet, has tattooed on her body anyway, like the Dauntless that she is. "One hell of a name."

I can see that my appearance is causing her pain; I wonder what kind of reminder I bring her with my presence, and then she tells me.

And she says know, but she corrects it to 'knew,' in that tone of voice. So I'm a replica of a dead friend. I'm sure whoever it is that actually runs this city is getting a fair amount of amusement from that. I don't know this girl, but I feel bad for her, and whoever it is that she's lost.

"And who was your friend?" I ask.