On the ground next to Glassies, I write “Recent attacks.”

The Wild Ones are harder, ’cause I don’t know how much of what I’ve heard is just people being people and making crazy blaze up, and how much is the truth. Now that I know the Wilds exist, the truth is probably somewhere in the middle. So I write “Kidnap Bearers,” which is the only thing I really know ’bout them, ’cause of my sister.

The Marked are an enigma. I like that word, and it most certainly applies here. If they do exist, then they very well might be the culprits, whether on purpose or by accident. If they mistakenly crossed into Killer territory to hunt, the Killers mighta thought it was us. I’m sure that to them, humans are humans, just like we can’t tell one of their packs from another. Next to Marked I write “Enigma” and “Painted bodies,” ’cause that’s all I know.

Icers are next to last. I probably know the most about the Icers ’cause they’ve always been around. I’ve never actually seen them, but they’re our next door neighbors and people talk ’bout them all the time. “Another shipment of timber has just come in from the Icers,” or “They say the snow’s always falling in ice country.” There are trade agreements with the Icers, where we give them tug meat, dried pricklers, and other such fire country delicacies, in exchange for some of their endless supply of wood. My father always says they’re a private people, who keep to themselves most of the time. They live in the mountains, where it’s cold, or some nonsense like that. I never understood exactly what that means, ’cept Teacher Mas describes it like you take the little shiver you sometimes feel when you get hit with a winter breeze at night, and multiply it by about a million. That’s cold. But to feel that shivery seems impossible, what with the sun goddess’s eye heating everything up.

I remember something else. When I was digging and Luger and the Keeper were chatting away, Luger asked about how the work was going. Keep replied that the Icies seemed happy, or some blaze like that. He also said his lifers keep dying on him. I don’t know what any of it means really, but it seems there’s something going on with Confinement and the Icers.

I write “Confinement work” and “Timber trade” next to Icers.

Last is us. The Heaters, getting our name ’cause everything we do is in the hottest of hot under the watchful eye of the sun goddess. Teacher told us one of the forefathers called us that after we crawled from the caves, after twelve moons went by with nothing but heat. We’re the long-time residents of fire country. It’s our land, and although there are others that live on it, we’ve never really had to run anyone off. We’re a peaceful people, unless provoked of course. Then we fight like dogs to protect ourselves. Like against the Killers. Or the Glassies. Every Midder learns about the Killer war and how there’s a strict hunting zone. And the Hunters, they’re trained even more. I can’t see how any of them would go in the restricted zone to hunt. I don’t write anything next to Heaters, just erase them with the back of my hand.

The other four are all in the hunt, so to speak.

~~~

All my thinking and writing has passed the time right along. Lunchtime comes, which I only know ’cause my stomach’s trying to eat itself, making all kinds of growling and gurgling noises. And ’cause the sun is directly overhead, trying to burn a hole right through me.

But today, lunchtime don’t include food. Or water. Or anything really. Just the same old, same old. Sitting and thinking and trying not to go stir crazy, like I bet most of the prisoners have gone long ago.

Some more time passes, maybe a thumb of sun movement. Finally something happens. I get a visitor!

Lara.

She wouldn’t be my first choice, but not my last either. Scorch, I’d take anyone at this point, even Hawk. At least I could give him a piece of my mind. The only ones I’d refuse to talk to would be my father, and maybe Luger.

“Hi, Siena,” she says.

“What in the vulture’s beak are you doing here?” I say.

“Come to see you,” she says.

“What about Learning?”

“I snuck out.”

“It’s an awful long walk,” I say.

“Not that long,” she says.

“Sneaking out of Learning…you could get in some nasty trouble for that. Maybe end up in the cage right next to me.”

She laughs. “I’ve done worse.” I bet she has. All sheening with sweat from her gallivant across the desert, she looks like a female warrior, her muscles toned and strong. “How’s Confinement?”

“Boring as all scorch,” I say. “And hungrifying to boot. Not to mention the thirst—I could drink a gallon skin of water in two shakes.”

Lara laughs again. “I’d love to offer you some of mine,”—she motions to the skin strapped to her waist—“but that Keeper is watching us like a hungry hawk.”

I look past her, and sure enough, Keep’s eyes are boring into my skull. “He ain’t so bad,” I say. “But he ain’t so good either. Why are you here?” I ask, watching as Lara frowns. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, I’m just wondering,” I add quickly.

“I just came to see how you were doing…” I can see the and floating around on her tongue, but I keep quiet—she’ll tell me if she wants to.

“I’m doing as fine as can be expected,” I say, trying to give her time to think.

“And…”—there it is—“…I also came to continue some of our other conversations.” Here comes. Skipping out on the Call. Breeding. Woman power. Knock the Laws.

“Look, Lara, I appreciate what you’re doing and all, but I’m not sure I wanna get into any more trouble’n I’m already into,” I say honestly. I leave the other question on my tongue: Who are you working with outside the village?

Lara rises to her tiptoes, grabs the bars with both hands, sticks her face between them. “But what you did yesterday was incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it. First the Killers are coming, and then you’re going, running right into the midst of it.”

“Circ was in trouble,” I say. I dunno what she’s getting at.

“Yeah, and he’s your friend. That’s my point exactly. You’re brave, Sie. And loyal. Just what we’re looking for.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh, so hard I feel like slapping my knees, but I don’t go that far. “I been called a lot of things in my fifteen years of life, but never brave. Today is a day of firsts, I s’pose.”

“But you are brave.”

“More like stupid. Almost got myself killed. And Circ almost died anyway.”

“But you didn’t. And he didn’t. So now you have a choice.”

I ignore her last few words ’cause I’m thinking about something. Something she said just a moment ago: Just what we’re looking for. She’s just confirmed my suspicions.

I take a deep breath. It’s now or never. Just ask. Ask. ASK! “Who’s we?” I ask.

Lara frowns. “What?”

“A second ago you said ‘Just what we’re looking for.’ Who’s the ‘we’?”

Lara’s face gets just a touch of pink on it, starting on her strong cheekbones and expanding to her forehead. “Well, uh, I didn’t mean…”

“Spit it out,” I say, knowing I hit a soft spot.

“I can’t tell you,” Lara says, dropping her head to stare at her feet, which scuff around a bit, kicking at the durt and stones.

“Well, why in the scorch not?” Now I’m the one holding the bars, poking my head out to get closer to her.

“I can’t until you’ve agreed to join us.” I keep hanging onto the bars, but now it’s to keep my balance. My head is chasing circles around my tail, or maybe it’s the reverse, I dunno. All I know is I don’t know what’s going on, ’cept I’m hungry, thirsty, tired, and ready to get back to normal life in the village. I close my eyes and try to think of what to say, what to ask, how to make sense of all my strange conversations with Lara.

“How can I join something I know nothing about?” I say. “Are you with the Icers? Or the Wilds? Or are you some crazy shilt-girl for the Marked?!” I scream the last bit out, losing control.