leg. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
Feeling around in the darkness, she searched for her fallen crutch, but it was nowhere to be found. She let out a grunt of frustration and stretched farther, wishing she still had a Skin. The light would come in handy right about now.
She finally located the crutch, but when she tried to stand back up, the weight of the sac hanging off the front of her shoulders threw off her balance, and she went down again.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to punch something. No, she wanted to punch someone.
Suddenly, a light broke through the darkness, followed by the sound of booted footsteps crunching on the frozen terrain. Chatine squinted into the beam of a flashlight and rolled her eyes when she saw who was holding it.
Well, she did say she wanted someone to punch.
“What the fric do you think you’re doing?” Etienne didn’t sound concerned as he stalked toward her. He sounded annoyed and inconvenienced at being woken up in the middle of the night.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she hissed back at him, digging the tip of her crutch into the ground and trying, once again, to stand up. “I’m getting out of here. And you are not going to stop me.”
The crutch slipped and Chatine started to go down again. Etienne reached out to catch her, but Chatine managed to stabilize herself before he could get there.
“Well, this was a brilliant idea, wasn’t it?” he asked.
Chatine snorted. “How did you find me anyway?”
“You’re hobbling around a sleeping camp on metal poles. You’re not exactly discreet.”
Chatine bristled. She was used to being the one who followed, not the one being followed. These Sol-damn crutches had stolen her edge.
“I can’t stay here,” she said firmly. “I have to go find my brother.”
A grimace passed over Etienne’s face, and Chatine was immediately reminded of the story Brigitte had told her in the graveyard, as she’d bent over the small arrow-shaped pattern of stones.
“Etienne’s father. He died in the last roundup.”
Chatine felt a stab of sympathy for the young man standing in front of her, trying to block her path. As it turned out, she and Etienne had something in common. But the sympathy was stamped out a moment later when Etienne said, “And do you really think this is the best way to do that?”
Heat rose to Chatine’s cheeks. He thought she was insane. Delusional for believing that Henri could still be alive. Could still be out there. She could hear the doubt in his voice, and it angered her.
Chatine stood up straighter—or as straight as she could while still leaning on her crutches. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”
Etienne looked like he wanted to say something but was trying to find the right way to phrase it. Chatine felt the heat spread to her chest. She already knew what he was going to say. He was going to tell her to just forget it. Let it go. The ship was gone. Henri was gone. Citizen Rousseau was gone. Everyone was gone. And there was no point risking death and frostbite to go looking for them.
But when he finally did speak, his words surprised her. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re very restless?”
She was caught so off guard, it took her a moment to formulate a response. “I’m … I’m not restless. I’m opportunistic.”
“Opportunistic, by its very nature, is restless.”
“Whatever.” Chatine tried to hobble past him. “Someone has to go looking for that ship.”
She felt a hand fall upon her shoulder, pulling her to a halt. “Someone is looking for the ship.” His voice was no longer laced with annoyance. It sounded gentle and bordering on pity. “Don’t forget, one of our own is lost out there too. A great pilote. And a friend. We want to find them just as much as you do. We’re not doing nothing. If they’re out there to be found, we will find them.”
If …
Chatine cringed at the word.
Sols, she hated that word.
Through her mittens, she felt for Marcellus’s ring on her thumb, only to remember—yet again—that it was gone.
“Maybe you should just let our people do their job. I mean look at you! You’re not exactly equipped to go on a rescue mission across the System Divine right now.”
Chatine glanced down at her lumpy bag and dangling left leg and wobbly crutches. “But I can’t just—”
Etienne bent down to look her in the eye. “Yes, you can.”
“You don’t even know