Author: Jodi Meadows

“What about Orrin and the others?” Whit asked. “Will the drones be able to find them?”

Stef’s nod was barely perceptible in the dark. “It’s possible, but unlikely. They’re far enough out of Range now. It was the lab we needed to worry about.”

“And he’ll find it,” I added, “because he’s seen Menehem’s research. He wouldn’t come out here himself, though. Not after the guard station.”

“Right.” Stef tapped her SED, bringing up a screen filled with unfamiliar codes. “He doesn’t know what’s in there that we might use to fight back. Menehem has always made Deborl nervous.”

Menehem had probably made a lot of people nervous.

Maybe that was part of what made me so frightening to others: not only was I a newsoul, I was Menehem’s daughter.

We stopped to rest where the wide path dipped into a hollow, keeping us out of sight. Trees and mountains rose high around us, blocking most of the moonlight. It looked as if the path kept going for a ways beyond Range, but it wasn’t maintained regularly. Mostly deer and other large fauna had been using it; tufts of fur had caught on brush, and hoof and paw prints stamped the snow.

There was little evidence of the caravan of exiles passing through, though when I bent, I found snapped blades of frozen grass and twigs, crushed into smeared vehicle tread marks. Time and weather would erase those, and the four of us would leave even fewer traces.

“We should get far enough away from the lab that the drones won’t find us quickly,” Whit said. His voice was harsh on the still night. “And we should get off the path, because won’t that be the next guess? We left the lab and took the path?”

Stef nodded. “I don’t like that it’s so obvious.”

I drifted along the edge of the path, searching for . . . something. I wasn’t sure.

“What are you thinking?” Sam appeared beside me, a warm, dark presence that calmed and excited me. We’d had no time alone, except for the moments before sleep, and those had been exhausted moments, separated by our bedding and a small stretch of floor. We were just close enough that we could see each other and reach to touch, but no more. If we’d been closer, if he’d been holding me at night and I’d kissed him, I don’t know that I would have ever stopped.

I turned my face to the stars. “What do you see?”

“The sky.” He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling himself close. “Lots and lots of sky.”

“How often do labor drones clear this path?” We were outside of Range now, beyond where people regularly traveled. There was no reason for the path to be so clear. Even the trees above looked as though they’d been pushed aside recently, though not with the evenness of a labor drone. The fallen branches all had jagged edges, as though they’d been ripped from the trunks.

“Not very often.” Sam lowered his voice. “I see what you mean.”

“What lives this way? Trolls?”

“Yes.”

And they traveled this way frequently enough to carve a path through the woods. “Do you think the others would have run into trolls?”

“I don’t know.” Sam tilted his head, listening. I listened, too, to the soft voices on the trail, a pale breeze rustling pine trees, the clatter of some small creature high in cottonwood branches, and a pack of wolves howling in the distance. “I don’t hear anything unusual.”

“Me neither. Still, I agree with Stef and Whit. We need to get off the path.”

We turned toward our friends again, but just as Sam began to speak, a deafening screech came from above.

Everyone looked up at once.

It was shaped like an eagle, but big enough to block out half the sky.

“What is that?” I whispered, dreading, feeling I already knew.

Sam grabbed my hand. “It’s a roc.”

With another terrible screech, the roc shifted its flight. It dove straight toward us.

10

OUTSIDE

“RUN!” SAM DRAGGED me toward the forest. We crashed through the underbrush as the roc keened and spread its wings wide.

Branches cracked. Ice clinked and clattered from above. Talons thumped on the ground behind us. Stef screamed, and I spun to look for her—catching a glimpse of broad brown wings and dark raptor eyes—but Sam jerked me back.

“Come on.” His voice was rough, the order leaving no room for argument.

I stumbled after him, struggling to avoid getting caught in the brush. Rocks and branches and ice snagged at me, but I pushed on with renewed energy when the roc cried and thrashed through the woods. Tree trunks groaned, and huge talons reached after us.

On the ground, chasing prey through the woods, the roc had terrible coordination. Its talons knocked a small tree aside, and they left gouges in the earth as the roc withdrew. Sam and I pushed onward, climbing a small hill, darting around trees. Patches of snow made me slide, but I hauled myself up every time. The forest was quiet, aside from our passage. No birds or small animals made a sound as the roc struggled to reach us.

But its size hindered it now. It couldn’t move through the forest, though surely it could hear our escape. Maybe even our gasping and my whimper as twigs scraped my face and hands.

Finally, Sam allowed us to stop. I bent over to catch my breath. My cheek stung, and a trail of blood leaked into the corner of my mouth, cold and coppery. I wiped it away and scanned the area for our friends. “Where are Stef and Whit?”

“They went to the other side of the path.” Panting, Sam collapsed onto a large rock. He leaned over, head between his knees. His shoulders heaved. “The roc will follow us.”

I collapsed next to him, hyperaware of the thrashing toward the path. The roc cawed and squeaked, and trees groaned under its wrath. More branches snapped, but it didn’t seem like the roc was making progress. I saw only a shadow of movement in the snow-reflected moonlight, but it still seemed much too close for comfort.

“How long will it follow us?” Adrenaline made my head buzz, and I couldn’t stop checking on the roc.

“Until it finds better prey.” Sam searched his pockets until he found his SED. No alerts of messages from friends. “Will you find out if Stef and Whit are okay?”

I nodded and sent a message from my own SED. “How’s your hand?”

“Better.” He flexed it a little, wincing.

“As long as it’s better.” I stuffed my SED in my pocket. “What next? Do we keep walking? Try to sleep? They have the tent.”

And the roc was right there. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I could hear it, though exhaustion nipped at the back of my thoughts.

“Keep walking. We’ll head away from the roc; that way it doesn’t draw anything else’s attention. As long as we stay in the woods, it won’t be able to reach us. Then we’ll meet up with the others when the way is clear.”

My SED chirped, and reading the message, I let out a soft chuckle. “Stef just sent those exact thoughts. They’re not hurt.”

“I’m glad.”

I readjusted my belongings and made sure there were no holes or scratches in my clothes. “I’m ready.” The sooner we left the roc behind, the better. Everyone had said leaving Range was dangerous, but I hadn’t realized danger appeared as soon as one left. Menehem’s lab was just beyond the edges of Range, close enough that there were still traps and the occasional drone patrol, so wiser creatures would stay away.

But already we’d walked down a troll path and been attacked by a roc. No wonder everyone stayed in Heart.

No wonder they’d all been so afraid of death when Janan offered them reincarnation.

We began walking, this time mindful of the brush and snow and ice. We were far enough away from the roc now that we didn’t need to rush, and it would be foolish to risk getting injured out here. Rin’s medical training hadn’t been that thorough, and we’d only brought a few supplies.

Sounds of the roc’s thrashing faded behind us, and mice and shrews began moving about the forest again. Probably heading back to their dens. Light touched the horizon, a dull red glow that was barely visible through the trees.

“They have the tent,” I said again, when Sam yawned.

He kept his voice level as we hiked up a small hill. “We’ll simply have to huddle in the same sleeping bag. For warmth. And so I don’t accidentally lose you to the wilderness.”

“You come up with the best plans.”

He smiled, and we kept walking. The roc was either far behind us now, or had given up trying to force its way through the woods. The trees were still thick, so it wouldn’t descend on us again, but I kept a wary eye on the sky as light bled between the trees and birds began singing to the dawn.

We walked parallel to the path, east and into the wilds outside Range. Small animals scurried through the forest, hiding as we passed, and everywhere there was evidence of larger mammals: tufts of fur on branches, fallen twigs, and piles of dung, which we managed to avoid, thanks to Sam’s caution.

Ice shone on every surface, hoarfrost and glittering icicles, the forest’s jewelry. I brushed my mittened fingers across ice crystals, listening to a few clink as they broke off. Winter, and talking about music with Sam, distracted me from my exhaustion for a while, but by midmorning, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. We sent a message to Stef and told her we were taking a break. Hopefully we’d meet up again soon.

Sam and I settled near a fast-moving stream. I rinsed blood and dirt off my face and arms, then scrubbed my skin dry before crawling into Sam’s sleeping bag with him.

The bag was warm relief after the frigid night and day. Sam had positioned the bag inside a shallow hollow among tree roots—an abandoned animal den, perhaps—so we were concealed on three sides. And Sam, being Sam, made sure he was between the exit and me, which meant that when he curled his body around mine, our burrow was deep and dark. His breathing was warmth on the back of my neck, and his hand rested on my hip.

“Are you comfortable?” he whispered.

“Yeah.” My feet were squished against our backpacks, and we were using the other sleeping bag as an awkward pillow. And though the cloth was thick and soft, a root dug at my shoulder. I shifted toward Sam, and his breath hitched. “Very. Aren’t you?”

His hand trailed up my side. “I wish we were at home.”

“Me too.” My hand slipped to my SED. “And I wish we had music, but I want to be able to hear in case anything happens.” Who knew what else might appear on us, now that we were beyond the safety of Range?

“You can listen if you want.” Sam kissed the back of my neck, making me shiver. It was amazing how he could make me want this huge and unnameable thing no matter where we were, and no matter the circumstances. “Listen if you want,” he said again. “I’ll let you know if anything happens outside. Just relax.”

Relaxing seemed unlikely, but when I pulled out my SED and earpieces and closed my eyes, there was only music.

Warm sounds of the piano pulsed through me. Heavy. Familiar. And with Sam’s presence behind me, soothing me, I drifted into dreamless sleep.

I jerked awake, darkness all around as the earth trembled.

Sam wasn’t behind me. I flailed inside the sleeping bag, discovering that one of the backpacks was gone and night had fallen.

“Sam!” I scrambled outside as the earth shuddered again and dirt rained into the hollow. My SED continued playing an old sonata, even as I ripped the earpieces away from me and shoved the whole thing into my pocket.

The forest was dark, quiet except for the thumping in the ground. It wasn’t like an earthquake—not this time—so it must have been something large moving nearby.

And I’d shouted.

I hunched, making myself smaller as I squinted in the darkness. Faint moonlight found its way through the forest canopy, but everything was still in shadows, and I couldn’t detect any movement.