On the first morning of the harvest, Amira is allowed to pick with the grown-ups for the first time, and Jadda, her grandmother, talks the whole way to the fields: about the roses, the river, the wind, where the scent is strongest and why. Amira half listens. Then, following a hoopoe bird down the hedgerows with her sack, she looks up and finds herself alone in a maze of rose hedges, with the village nowhere in sight. She is not lost, she decides. She just does not know where she is yet. And she realises, standing still in the pink dawn, that she was listening more than she thought.