"I've not been here long," says Evie, with a wry little smile, "but I'm beginning to doubt anything here is entirely what one might call 'normal'."

Still, fireflies: she heard something about that once, from someone here she'd been talking to about some of the bizarre things that had happened here in the past. The fireflies had appeared, they'd bitten or stung, and all at once half the village had been ill with fever and — well. Paranoid delusions.

Alarm goes off in the back of Evie's mind, but she conceals it carefully. "Are you feeling unwell at all?" is her follow-up question, because this would certainly explain the elevated skin temperature and the way Anne keeps glancing out the window as if on alert for a stalker who, Evie is starting to believe, isn't actually there. She manages not to sound accusatory — just curious and a bit concerned.