Dahlia Knox

She left her hometown when the river changed color. Since then, Dahlia’s been a name on motels and diner tabs, a woman who listens more than she talks. People tell her things—they always do—and sometimes she tells them exactly what they need to hear to leave or to stay. Rumors say she can sense lies by the way the air thickens around them. She calls it intuition. Others call it dangerous. Either way, she keeps moving east, chasing clearer air and quieter nights.