faces twisted with cracked, bleeding skin and scarlet, fanged mouths, their shrieks a mix of fury and agony. They turn that anger and pain onto the shanties around them.
My attention homes in immediately to the east shanties, where my mother’s house stands. Would she even still be there? My mother is no fool. It’s likely that she fled the instant the Federation’s flags came into view—but there’s nowhere for her to go that would be any safer. The house is located on the far side of the shanties, a good distance from where the soldiers are now striking. Anywhere else in the shanties will be more dangerous.
People run screaming down every mud-strewn street. As I pass them by, their eyes flicker to me with wild, desperate hope. The Strikers are here! I can see the light on their faces, as if we’re some sort of miracle that can hold the Federation at bay.
One man with his baby slung around his chest even runs up to me and clasps my hand in desperation, speaking rapidly to me in a language I can’t understand. I shake my head vigorously at him and point to the outer rims of the shanties, away from the Inner City gates.
Some refugees are trying to head to the open plains beyond the Outer City, only to run headlong into approaching Federation troops. The enemy is marching in from all angles now, a line of red along the horizon growing steadily closer. Other refugees clutch their children and belongings and stream toward the back of the Inner City walls. They know that there are escape tunnels installed underground. If the nobles are fleeing through there, then they might have a chance too.
I want to tell them all to turn back. Even if they made it there, Maran soldiers wouldn’t let them in, not without letting the Inner City’s residents go first.
But there’s nowhere else for the refugees to go. So I try to ignore their terrified faces and keep running in the direction of my mother’s house.
As I reach her street, I see a couple of her neighbors still frantically grabbing their belongings. Nana Yagerri is one of them. She drops the pans she’s holding and then runs up to me, waving her arms.
“Talin!” she signs as she reaches me. Her figure is bent double, and she’s wincing from her sprint. Her gnarled hands clasp mine in a trembling grip before her fingers move wildly. “Your mother isn’t here. She’s already left. She wanted me to go with her, but I couldn’t leave all this—” She pauses to look at the humble shack that she’s poured so much love into maintaining.
My mother already left? I put both hands firmly on Nana Yagerri’s shoulders and squeeze them once. “Where?” I sign.
“She ran toward the walls,” she signs in response. Another explosion rocks the ground somewhere in the shanties behind us, and she lets out a startled cry. “They’re setting everything on fire, Talin! What will we do!—”
She’s going to die out here, with her few pots and pans and precious belongings. I take her hands in mine and start pulling her away from her house.
She resists at first. “Talin, my things!—” she starts to wail.
I shake my head sternly at her, then hoist her up onto my back. There’s no time for any of this. With her still crying, I push away and hurry along with her toward an area of the Outer City that still hasn’t been burned yet.
Is that where my mother might be too?
A patrol of Federation soldiers appears at the end of the street. I see them tossing torches on the roofs and shooting anyone nearby who isn’t clad in Karensan scarlet.
I dart sideways into an alley, but not before one of them sees me. He whistles loudly—I hear their voices as they shout something to one another.
He’s calling for a Ghost. I don’t bother to wait.
As I dart off with Nana Yagerri clinging to my back, I hear the unmistakable shriek of a Ghost round the corner behind us. Its voice changes pitch when it sees our fleeing figures, and I hear the click of its claws as it starts to chase us. Nana Yagerri screams at the sight.
I won’t be able to outrun it. So instead, I skid to a halt, ease the old woman off my back, and turn around to face the Ghost. My eyes narrow—I draw a long blade in one hand and my gun in the other. The Ghost