Convergence

Dedication For my son Marshall, who loves history, especially military history. And anything else to do with the military. Thanks for putting up with all your mom’s crazy military questions!

Chapter One A dozen nomads attacked the Carwin Pack patrol at sunset in a part of the Char ruins where the ancient buildings leaned against each other like old women drunk on apple wine. The patrol killed them all. When they were stacking the bodies to burn, Lynx found Rabbit’s knife strapped to a dead man’s thigh. All his breath ran out like he’d been kicked in the stomach. Rabbit had vanished without a trace almost seven years ago, during a routine patrol in a section of Char at least a half day’s walk from here. Lynx took the knife and the leather sheath—also Rabbit’s—and shoved them both in his satchel. Straightening up, he turned in a slow circle to get a good look at the area. Why, he couldn’t say. It wasn’t like he really expected Rabbit to pop out from behind a vine-covered pile of rotted wood and metal and say ha, only fooling, here I am. Still… He looked. He saw nothing, not even in the deep black shadows between the buildings where only rats, roaches and spiders ever ventured. Darkness hid nothing from him. If anyone had been there, he would’ve seen. “Lynx? What’s up?” Lynx glanced over his shoulder at Owl. “Nothing. Just checking the perimeter.” Owl nodded, large pale eyes swiveling this way and that, making him look eerily like his namesake. “Everything okay?” “Yeah. I don’t see any more of these guys hiding nearby.” “Good. Wolf says he doesn’t smell anyone either.” Owl focused on Lynx’s face with a stern frown. “You took something off one of the bodies. What was it?”

Lynx didn’t want to show Owl. He wanted to keep his discovery to himself. But that was ridiculous, and selfish. The rest of the Pack had lost a Brother when Rabbit disappeared every bit as much as he had. Opening his bag, Lynx pulled out the knife and sheath and held them in his outstretched palms. Words weren’t necessary. Owl paled when he saw the weapon. His eyes closed, his jaw going tight. He opened his eyes again and stared straight into Lynx’s. “Thank you, Brother.” Lynx nodded. He put the knife away, and they didn’t speak of it again.

They finished their planned sweep of the most ancient part of Char and headed home two days later. Lynx was glad. He didn’t like the way the back of his neck itched here as if someone he couldn’t see was watching him. Back in Carwin, the Pack gathered at sunrise the day after the patrol returned to hang Rabbit’s knife in the Memory Tree. Since he’d found it, Lynx was given the honor. He jumped, grabbed hold of one of the wide lower branches, pulled himself up and shimmied as close to the end as he could, to where a green bottle made of something thin, light and flexible dangled from a leather strip. Bear had found the bottle in Char during one of their first patrols together, and had kept it in his trunk. It was all they had left of him. He’d been gone five years now. Gone into the wilderness with Dragon, the exile from the west, looking for a place where they could be together. Lynx smiled, thinking of Bear’s face when he’d found that bottle. He’d been so excited to hold a little piece of the vanished old world in his hands. Lynx hoped he’d gotten what he wanted, and that he and Dragon were safe and happy somewhere.

Untying Rabbit’s sheathed knife from his thigh, Lynx peered at the branches arching around him. Knives, necklaces and other things dangled among the bright green of the spring leaves, memorials to Pack Brothers lost over the years. They hadn’t hung a memory of Rabbit before now, because Rabbit hadn’t left anything behind except clothing. Now that they had something more permanent for the tree, Lynx almost wished they didn’t. At least before, he could hold on to the faint hope that Rabbit was still alive. None of them could hope such a thing any longer. A nomad wouldn’t have Rabbit’s weapon unless he was dead. His throat tight, Lynx secured the leather strip looped through Rabbit’s knife sheath to the branch beside Bear’s strange old bottle. He ran his fingertips over the knife’s handle, where Rabbit’s hand had worn the deerskin wrapping smooth. “May the Great Mother hold you always.” “And the Mother protect us all,” the men on the ground murmured in answer. Lynx looked down at them. Twenty-nine men. Some he’d called Brother most of his life, a few he’d helped initiate from the trainees into full Brotherhood less than six moon-cycles ago. All of them his Pack. His family. Every one of them understood what the loss of a Pack Brother meant, whether they’d personally known Rabbit or not. He thanked the Mother for each of them. How did others survive the pain of losing someone they loved without a Pack to comfort them? “Goodbye, Rabbit.” He touched the knife one more time, swung his leg over the branch and dropped to the ground.

That night, he lay pressed tight between Wolf and Kitten and pretended the cock inside him and the one rubbing hard and hot against his own were both Rabbit’s. He wasn’t sure why, exactly. Neither of the Brothers sandwiching him were remotely like Rabbit—especially Wolf, nearly as big and solid as Bear against his back—and he’d never been given to flights of imagination before. But years ago,

Rabbit had always been the one to lie with him after patrol and fuck away the tension Char left behind. Sometimes he missed that. Tonight, for some reason, he missed Rabbit’s touch with an intensity that surprised him. Wolf came with a low groan, then wrapped one huge hand around both Lynx’s and Kitten’s cocks, stroking them together. Kitten trembled and mewled like his namesake, his nimble little tongue lapping the sweat from Lynx’s neck. Lynx let his release wash over him, his legs tangled with Kitten’s and his fingers digging into the hard muscle of Kitten’s ass. Kitten’s cock pulsed against his, their mingled seed flowing warm and wet over his shaft, his belly and Wolf’s hand. As was his habit, Wolf pulled out of Lynx’s body, patted his hip, rolled over and went to sleep without another word. In the faint moonlight leaking through the window of the building where the Pack slept in one big huddled group, Lynx caught the flash of Kitten’s wide blue eyes. He laid a warm hand on Lynx’s cheek. “Are you all right, Brother?” “Yeah.” Lynx smiled at Kitten’s worried expression. Just like the animal the Seer had named him after, the young man was small, sweet, cute and fond of cuddling. But in the two years since he’d been initiated into full Brotherhood, many enemies had learned not to judge a warrior’s skill in battle by his size or his looks. Kitten was fierce and deadly with a knife. Lynx brushed a strand of damp black hair away from the round, pale face. “I miss Rabbit.” Kitten had never known Rabbit, not really, even though he’d been a boy in the training camp when Rabbit was still alive and safe in the Carwin Pack. But he was Pack, and Pack took care of their own. He wound his hand into Lynx’s braids and planted a gentle kiss on his mouth. “He walks with the Mother now.” Lynx shut his eyes, savoring the warmth of Kitten’s slight body against his.

For years, the nomad gangs had been growing bolder. The Pack sent more and more frequent patrols into the heart of the Char ruins, but the attacks on outlying Carwin farms continued to increase. Just over a moon-cycle after Lynx found

Rabbit’s knife on the dead nomad, an entire family was slaughtered and a field of crops burned within sight of Carwin’s walls. After that, the Carwin Tribal Council called an emergency meeting with the Pack leaders to decide what to do about the growing threat to the tribe’s safety. “We’ve not spared any of them,” Owl insisted, not for the first time, standing before Mother Rose and the council along with Lynx and Wolf. “Every one of the Mother-damned bastards we’ve come across on patrol, we’ve killed.” “So you’ve said. Repeatedly.” Councilor Tolly eyed Owl with dark suspicion from beneath his heavy brows. Lynx fought back the urge to bare his teeth at the fat old man. “With respect, Councilor, Brother Owl’s telling the truth. Just in the past two patrols, we’ve killed at least thirty of them.” His fingers twitched toward his knife. “They’re starting to hit us in larger numbers, you know. Maybe you’d like to help us fight, if you can remember how.” The ten members of the council stirred uncomfortably around the long wooden table in the center of the council room. Dust motes agitated by the movement turned in a sunbeam falling across the table from one of the large open windows. Owl laid a hand on Lynx’s shoulder and squeezed, meaning be still, Brother. Still fuming, Lynx subsided. This was why Owl led the Pack. He was a warrior without equal, but he also had the patience to deal with the council. Lynx didn’t. Sometimes he wished he could go back in time to when he, Bear and Rabbit used to sneak into the council building and steal wine from the storage rooms or hide in this very chamber and listen to things they weren’t supposed to hear. A frown creased Mother Rose’s brow. “You are killing more of the nomads each time you patrol inside Char, yet they’re still attacking you in greater numbers each time, and also growing so bold as to murder our people within sight of our walls. Why?”

“We don’t know, Mother.” Owl glanced at Lynx and beyond to Wolf, standing solid and silent as a stone at Lynx’s other side. “But I think we can all agree that the situation has become quite severe.” She nodded, one long snowy braid falling over her shoulder. “Brother, where are they coming from?” Lynx, Owl and Wolf exchanged another glance, and Lynx’s pulse sped up. That was the real question, wasn’t it? “We’re not sure.” Owl’s long fingers flexed, straightened and dropped from Lynx’s shoulder. “But we’ve talked about it—Lynx, Wolf and I—and we believe they may have a nest inside Char.” All the councilors started talking at once. Mother Rose stood and shushed them with a sharp gesture. She stared straight at Owl, her dark eyes calm but intense. “I see. So these gangs may not be quite as nomadic as we’d always believed.” “Exactly.” Her shoulders hunched, as if the terror of that knowledge was a physical weight. “Your recommendations, Brother Owl?” Owl launched straight into the plan they’d discussed through many long nights since coming to the unwelcome realization of why the gangs never seemed to diminish. “Obviously, we can’t do anything until we know where they are. So we think the best thing to do is send in a small group—three Brothers—to find them. Nothing but that. Just find the nest. Once we know where they are, we can take the Pack in and wipe them out.” “It’s a stupid idea.” Councilor Tolly turned to Mother Rose with an irritated expression. “Rose, you can’t allow this. They’ll be caught for sure.” She pinned him with a withering look. “You will address me as Mother Rose, Councilor. Remember yourself.” He cringed. Lynx bit the insides of his cheeks to keep back the threatening laughter. Normally, he felt sorry for anyone caught on the wrong side of Mother

Rose’s intimidating glare. But not this time. Councilor Tolly needed to be taken down a few notches. The councilor bowed his head. “Your pardon, Mother.” Mother Rose turned her attention back to Owl. “I assume you have reasons to believe you won’t be caught?” Lynx heard the worry behind her words. He and his Brothers shared that worry, and it had nothing to do with any of the Pack becoming a meal for the cannibalistic nomads. Carwin was a well-built, secure city—it had to be to survive on the outskirts of the dangerous Char ruins—but it wasn’t impregnable, and the Pack knew all of its secrets. No one knew what the nomad gangs were willing to do to extract information from a prisoner, since they’d never bothered taking prisoners in the past. And even the strongest Pack Brother was only human. “Yes, Mother.” Owl curled a finger around the dangling end of the leather tie securing his knife sheath to his thigh, the only outward sign of the nervousness Lynx knew he felt. “The three of us have discussed it at length. We believe our best option is to enter nomad territory under cover of darkness, avoiding any contact with the gangs. They’re active at night, but they tend to gather in groups in one spot and stay there. They tend to have a fire and make a lot of noise. That means they’re not only easier to spot at night, but also that it’s easier to avoid being seen by them, as long as we keep our group small. That’s why we’ve decided to go in with only three men.” “We’ve chosen Brother Lynx to lead the mission and Brothers Fox and Kitten to accompany him,” Wolf added. “We believe these three have the best chance of getting in and out without being captured.” “And if you are captured, Brother Lynx? What then?” Councilor Tolly frowned at Lynx, thick fingers picking at a knothole in the wood of the table. “I don’t like it. The future of our entire tribe could be at stake here. I think this plan is too risky to hang the fate of Carwin on it.”

“It’s risky, yes.” Owl darted a sidelong glance at Lynx, who gave him a faint, humorless smile in return. The plan had been Lynx’s idea, and the two of them had argued about it before asking Wolf for a third opinion. “But the old methods of dealing with the gangs are no longer working. If we want these attacks to stop, we’re going to have to take the risk to find out where the nomads are holed up and how to root them out. As the Pack leaders, the three of us believe the plan we’ve presented to you is the best way to do that.” Mother Rose nodded. “Very well. I believe your plan to be a good one and am inclined to approve it. Councilor Tolly, your objection has already been noted. Are there any others?” Councilor Marigold stood, thin shoulders hunched. “I agree with Councilor Tolly. This is too risky. The Pack all know the city’s weaknesses too well. If the gangs learn about them, they can march right into our city and take it.” “Not if we fight them. We’re not completely helpless ourselves, and we’ll have most of the Pack here to protect us.” Councilor Leland rested both elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “Maybe this will spur some action on getting repairs made to the wall. I say let Brother Lynx put this plan into motion. They say they believe they won’t be caught. I trust their judgment.” No one else spoke up, but most heads around the table nodded. Mother Rose surveyed her council without hurry before turning back to Owl, Lynx and Wolf. “Very well, Brothers. Since only two councilors dissent, your plan is approved. You may go as soon as you are ready. Inform me before you set out.” “Yes, Mother.” Owl bowed. “Thank you.” She nodded. Her solemn gaze fixed on Lynx. “Be safe, Brother. May the Great Mother go with you.” He bowed. “Thank you, Mother.” The three of them left the council chamber. Outside in the morning sunshine, they thumped each other on the back and grinned and called it a victory, because

it was. Still, the hard, fiery knot in Lynx’s gut didn’t feel like the usual pre-patrol anticipation. Something besides nomads lay in wait in the ruins. He felt it deep in his bones. Had felt it ever since he took Rabbit’s knife from the dead man in Char. Whatever it was, he both wanted it and dreaded it. Walking back to the Pack compound with his Brothers, he tipped his face up to catch the full force of the eastern sun. Mother, help me.

Chapter Two Lynx waited until the moon waned past a quarter of full before leading Fox and Kitten out of Carwin and into the ruins. Spider and Hummingbird let them out of the gate in the dead of night, and they set out northeast toward the heart of ancient Char, where most of the Pack agreed they had the best chance of finding the nomads’ nest. As they got farther away from the open fields and sparse woodlands around Carwin, the ruins rose ever taller around them. The old buildings crowded around like skeletons, their shadows black and threatening. “It’s different from daytime,” Kitten murmured out of the blue three days into their search, peering into the darkness around them while Fox and Lynx crouched in the doorway of the relatively intact building they’d decided to investigate as a possible campsite for the day. “Everything feels… I don’t know. More alive or something.” Lynx nodded without taking his gaze from the empty room beyond the doorway. “Everything comes out at night. Nomads, nightfeeders, wild dogs, coyotes, screamers, probably other things. I’ve only walked the streets here at night a couple of times before now, but that was plenty.” Kitten shot a glance at Lynx, wide eyes catching the moon’s faint rays to throw back a brief silver shine. “Screamers?” “Big cats. They sound like a woman when they scream. Don’t seem to be any around this time.” Fox stood, one slim hand on his knife handle. “I don’t smell any people except us. But there’s dogs nearby.” Rising to his feet, Lynx scanned the landscape of frameworks, rubble and unbroken structures surrounding them. Nothing moved but the wind. Not even a cricket raised its song in the silence. “How many?”

“Hard to say. Maybe just a couple, maybe a small pack.” Fox swiveled his head right, then left. “Could take our chances, try to get one for meat. Might be our last chance for a while.” Lynx wrinkled his nose. He hated raw meat—especially wild dog, which was tough and rank—but Fox was right. They should save the rest of their dried venison for later. Even the boldest animals rarely ventured into this part of Char. They couldn’t pass up the opportunity to catch fresh meat. They’d already agreed not to light any fires, even if they felt sure no nomads lurked nearby, which meant no cooking. The last few attacks inside Char had taken them by surprise. “We’ll get one if they come close enough.” Sidling closer, he grasped Kitten’s shoulder. “You’re in charge of setting up camp inside. Find a secure spot out of sight of this door, preferably with an escape route but no way for anyone to sneak up on us.” Kitten nodded once and turned toward the door. He didn’t say a word, but Lynx saw the resentment in the set of his delicate jaw. He snaked an arm around the young man’s slender waist. “I need your eyes and ears in there,” he breathed in Kitten’s ear. “If the Mother’s willing, there’ll be plenty of work for your knife on other patrols. You know we need to avoid it as much as possible on this one.” “I know.” Kitten glanced up at Lynx with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Brother. I didn’t go on the last Patrol, and you know I get restless sometimes.” Lynx swallowed a laugh. He’d always found it funny that sweet, pretty little Kitten had such a taste for battle. “I know.” He pressed a hard, swift kiss to Kitten’s mouth. “Go find us a place to spend the day. Maybe Fox and I will come back with some nice fresh dog after a while.” Kitten made a face but strode off into the building’s interior, knife at the ready. Lynx went to join Fox a couple of paces away from the building. Fox stared at the remains of the old city, his head swiveling slowly back and forth, long fingers toying with his knife handle. His dark skin was nearly invisible in the deep gloom after moonset. The cannibalistic nightfeeders—more animal than human, solitary and wary—would be able to spot him, but nomads probably wouldn’t. Even

though they seemed to be mostly nocturnal, they couldn’t see in the dark very well. It was one of the things about them that had always struck Lynx as strange. “You’re staring, Brother.” Fox’s voice startled Lynx out of his thoughts. He shook his head. “I was thinking about the nomads.” Fox looked at him long enough to raise a questioning eyebrow before returning to his scan of the surrounding buildings. “Not thinking about trading me to them for information, I hope.” “Yeah. That was my plan all along.” “Huh. Well, I guess it’s easier than searching the whole city of Char for a Motherdamned nest.” Lynx snickered. Beside him, Fox let out the boyish chuckle that always sounded so surprising coming from his sharp, battle-scarred features. Moved by a surge of affection for the dangerous man with the bone-dry sense of humor at his side, Lynx slid closer, grabbed Fox’s ass and squeezed hard. Grinning, Fox pulled Lynx’s head back by the braids and planted a soft, too-brief kiss on his lips. “Don’t start things you can’t finish, Brother. You know we can’t fuck out here. Too dangerous.” “I know, I know.” Lynx kneaded Fox’s firm butt one more time before letting go. “Are the dogs still out there? I still don’t see anything.” Fox lifted his head and sniffed, dropping his hand from Lynx’s hair. “I still smell them, but it’s fainter. I think they’re moving away.” He peered into Lynx’s eyes with a perfect sincerity. “Sorry. I know how much you were looking forward to some raw dog meat.” Just for that, Lynx smacked Fox’s ass hard. Fox faked a wince, but Lynx knew better. Most of the Pack had indulged Fox’s appetite for a hand-warmed rear at one time or another.

“Let’s go inside,” Lynx said. “There’s no point in staying out here any longer if we’re not going to get any meat. We should get out of sight.” “Agreed.” Fox headed for the door, rubbing the spot on his butt Lynx had hit. “Maybe if our Kitten’s found a good, secure spot to camp, we can have a little fun before we sleep, hmm?” After a long night with all senses on high alert, the idea of being wedged on all fours between Fox and Kitten—one fucking his ass and the other his mouth— appealed to Lynx on a fundamental level. He grinned. “Let’s go.” They headed into the depths of the building together. Lynx thought about what was to come and wondered, not for the first time, why every Brother who touched him these days looked like Rabbit.

The day passed quietly. During the first watch, before the sun properly rose, a stealthy scratching at the outside door told Lynx a nightfeeder had found their hiding place. But the barricade Kitten had fashioned from wood and metal scraps held. Morning light leaked in through the cracks in the ancient walls not long after the scratching noises stopped. Nothing disturbed their rest during the daylight hours. Kitten roused Fox and Lynx as soon as the sun went down. They spent an uneventful night trudging through ruins that grew taller and thicker the farther they went. Fox found a building that looked ready to fall to pieces but was sound inside, and they spent the day there. “I heard nomads outside,” Lynx told his Brothers when he woke them at the end of his watch. “They weren’t very close, but they were there, I’m sure of it. We should find them and try to follow them. See where they’re going.” Kitten cocked his head sideways. He stood still and silent for a moment. “I hear it. They’ve gathered to the northeast. I can’t tell how many there are or exactly how far off they are, but they’re not too far away for us to find them.” He glanced at Fox. “If I can hear them in here, Fox, you ought to be able to track them by smell without any problem.”

Nodding, Fox opened his small leather bag, dug out three hunks of dried venison and tossed one to each of his Brothers. “We can eat on the go.” “We’ll need to be careful. Keep your wits about you.” Lynx tore off a hunk of deer meat with his teeth, chewed and swallowed. “Come on.” The three of them slipped out into the night. Overhead, clouds hid the moon’s crescent. A warm wind stirred the hot, muggy air in fits and starts, fluttering through the vines that clung to the bones of the old buildings. Lynx lifted his arms to let the breeze dry the sweat running down his sides. Daytime in Char was searingly hot in the warm months. Much hotter than the surrounding fields and woods, even inside the buildings. No one knew why. Just another mystery of the old ruins. After the sun went down, the fierce heat of the day eased from nauseating to bearable. As far as Lynx was concerned, the relative comfort of traveling by night made up for some of the increased danger. The three of them kept to the shadows of the buildings as they moved through the dark, following the sounds only Kitten could hear. The rising wind posed a problem for both him and Fox, its mournful whistle covering the faint noises and keeping Fox from getting a fix on the scent. After an hour or so of slow and careful tracking, Lynx caught a vague orange glow far ahead, between the towering black hulks. From the looks of it, the fire lay behind one of the buildings. He doubted Fox could see its light, though Kitten might. He pointed toward the fire and glanced at Fox, a question in his eyes. The wind was in their favor for once. Mother, please… Fox lifted his head. Sniffed. Nodded. A wide grin spread across Kitten’s face. He tugged on his ear. So that was it. The firelight Lynx had spotted lay in the same direction as the sounds Kitten had picked up and the scent of many humans gathered in one place. They’d found the nomads. Or one gang, which was as good a place as any to start.

Ignoring the familiar mixture of elation and apprehension curled in the pit of his stomach, Lynx drew his knife and moved toward the light. His Brothers followed him. He didn’t have to look to know they had their weapons in hand as well. Their steps were silent and sure as the three of them slipped through the ruins together. Having them at his back made Lynx feel more confident about this whole thing. It had been his plan, sure, but like anything untested, the whole idea brought a certain level of anxiety with it. If something went wrong, the three of them might be captured. Death would be better. As they drew closer, the light grew stronger, casting long shadows from the buildings and strange, distorted ones from the unseen people moving to and fro in front of the fire. The knee-high weeds cut sharp black stripes across the ambergold glow illuminating the spaces between the buildings. Lynx, Fox and Kitten crept from one pool of darkness to the next, senses on high alert for any nomads who might’ve strayed from the group. Judging by the sounds they could all hear now—laughter, singing and agonized screams that made Lynx’s blood run cold—the gang had somehow gotten hold of at least one woman and were having their own sickening brand of fun with her. Lynx scowled, his fingers tightening around the knife handle. If only they had a full patrol, they could sweep down on the bastards and soak the dirt with their blood. He hated having to hide in the shadows, listen and do nothing. Patience. Find the nest, then we’ll come back and gut every Mother-damned one of ’em. Kitten sidled up to him in the shadow of one of the surrounding buildings. He stretched upward to put his mouth next to Lynx’s ear, even though the nomad gang couldn’t possibly hear him over the noise of their revelry. “There’s a space in the building across the way. We can hide there. We’ll have a better view of the gang. We can watch them. See where they go in the morning, maybe.”

Lynx peered across the weed-ridden ancient road to the building Kitten pointed out. It looked like nothing but a pile of stones, but Lynx saw the narrow black slash marking an opening to the inside and through it, the faint gleam of firelight on indestructible old-world flooring that announced an empty space to anyone with eyes to see it. “Good idea, Brother.” Lynx beckoned Fox closer. “We’re making for that building over there. Follow me, and let me know right away if you smell anyone close by, okay?” Fox nodded, and Lynx gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Kitten, you bring up the rear. Keep your eyes peeled.” The three of them flitted across the open space, crouched low as they ran through the weeds. None of the nomads so much as glanced their way. Lynx slipped through the narrow opening in the thick stone wall into a cramped, musty space with barely enough headroom for him to stand up straight. Enough firelight leaked in through the cracks in the walls to illuminate the dirt and debris littering the floor. Part of the wall opposite where they’d entered had collapsed into a pile of rubble. The sound of tiny skittering feet told of rats scavenging on the other side. Lynx moved aside for Fox to squeeze into the small space. “Fox?” He shook his head. “Nothing in here but rats.” Kitten slipped inside behind Fox and went straight to one of the many chinks in the wall. “Look. You can see them perfectly from here.” Lynx and Fox crowded behind Kitten to peer over his shoulder. He was right. From where the three of them stood crammed together, Lynx had a near-perfect view of what was happening outside less than fifty paces away. What he saw made him wish he didn’t. Two men in dirty leather pants and vests made of human skin held a thin, pale woman spread-eagled on the ground before the fire, her arms tied together above her head and each slim ankle held fast by one of her captors. Bruises and bleeding cuts covered her body from head to toe. She wore nothing but the rags of whatever clothing they’d clearly torn off her when they’d caught

her. A third man knelt between her legs, both hands holding her hips off the ground, pounding into her with all his strength. The man’s face was in profile. Every time the woman screamed, his mouth fell open in obvious ecstasy. Lynx thought he might be sick. “I could take him out from here.” Kitten glanced at Lynx, his eyes reflecting the firelight with a swift flash of orange-gold. The woman’s shrieks cut the night, high and wild with her pain and her desperation, and Kitten’s fingers tightened around the handle of his knife. “Lynx. Let me. Please.” Lynx wanted to say yes. Especially since he knew Kitten could do it. No one could aim a blade like Kitten. Even at this distance, he could toss his knife right through the breach in the ancient wall and bury it in the nomad’s throat between one cruel thrust and the next. Sever the big blood vessels in the man’s neck and kill him before he knew what had happened. The problem was, it wouldn’t save the woman from her fate. It would only call attention to their hiding place and bring down the wrath of the entire nomad gang on their heads. They couldn’t afford it. Not now, with only the three of them here to fight off at least five times that many. And after they’d been slaughtered and butchered for meat, another one of the gang would finish the rape. Probably make it worse for the interruption. “No.” Lynx clasped Kitten’s shoulder, drew him close and pressed their foreheads together. “I know, Brother. I know. I’m sorry.” In the end, Fox and Lynx had to restrain Kitten, who’d faced nomad gangs plenty of times but had never watched them rape anyone before. Lynx had seen it more than once, but each time made him want to vomit. He spent the endless minutes holding Kitten’s knife hand in an iron grip and reminding himself of the times— few though they’d been—when he and his Brothers had saved Carwin’s mothers and daughters from such mistreatment.

The nomads had paid for those crimes with their lives. Lynx held on to those memories now, while the nameless woman outside screamed away the last moments of her life. It was a relief when the man pulled up his pants, unsheathed his knife and cut her throat. When the men moved away, Lynx saw her face clearly for the first time. She wasn’t from Carwin, and she didn’t have the filed teeth and facial tattoos that would mark her as a member of the Norman Tribe, the only other tribe within a few days’ walk. Which begged the question, where did she come from? Lynx wondered. But now wasn’t the time to puzzle over such mysteries. He had other things to think about. They all did. Kitten rested his head on Lynx’s shoulder. “I want to cut them open. I want to rip out their Mother-damned guts with my bare hands.” “You’ll get your chance.” Wrapping his arms around Kitten’s waist from behind, Fox nuzzled the smaller man’s neck. “What do you think, Lynx?” He peered outside again. The three men who’d participated in the rape were already butchering the body. The rest of the group huddled like crows around carrion. They passed a couple of skins around between them, each man drinking a long swallow before handing it to his neighbor. If Lynx hadn’t known from experience that the skins contained not water but strong liquor, he still would’ve guessed by the way some of the men staggered around and laughed too loudly. He relaxed his grip on Kitten’s wrist and stroked his hair instead. “They’ll be here all night. Probably sleep past dawn. I think we should watch them in shifts tonight. One of us watching, the other two sleeping. When they get ready to move on, we’ll follow them.” They hadn’t been awake for very long, but if there was one thing a Pack Brother learned early on, it was to sleep when you got the chance. You never knew how long you might have to go without. “Good idea.” Fox raised his head and stared outside. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’ll take first watch.” Laying a hand on Kitten’s cheek, Fox gently but firmly turned

the young man’s head to meet his gaze. “Don’t worry, Little Brother. When we come back, you can draw first blood.” Kitten smiled, his whole face lighting up like it always did when Fox used the endearment he only ever spoke to Kitten. He stretched upward for a kiss, which Fox gave, his dark hand splayed on Kitten’s pale belly. A hard ache lodged in Lynx’s chest as he watched them together, the two of them so clearly special to one another in a way none of the rest of the Pack were. He and Rabbit had felt the same way about each other, once upon a time. Nearly seven years after the last time Rabbit touched him, Lynx still remembered the feel of Rabbit’s palm sliding over his bare hip when they fucked, the warmth of Rabbit’s lips on the shell of his ear and the sound of Rabbit’s voice low and broken with the force of his thrusts, calling Lynx his Wildcat. His love, his own. Whispering all the things they kept only between themselves, because Pack shared their bodies and their love with all of their Brothers, not just one. It was what made them strong. Rabbit used to talk about settling down with Lynx in a cabin beside Carwin’s eastern wall when they got too old to fight anymore. Lynx used to laugh at the idea of living that long, but Rabbit had firmly believed the two of them would. They’d climb the beech tree and watch the sunrise every morning, he said. And one fine day, when they were very old, they’d fall asleep in each other’s arms and wake in the land beyond the endless waters, with the Great Mother and all the Brothers they’d lost over the years, and they’d live there forever and be happy. Lynx wasn’t sure he’d ever believed that. Now he didn’t want to. Not without Rabbit. “Lynx?” The sound of Kitten’s voice startled Lynx out of his thoughts. He blinked to shake off the memories. Kitten and Fox both watched him with concern. He shut his eyes, slipped his arms around Kitten’s waist and reached behind him to rest his hands on Fox’s hips.

Fox curled a hand around the back of Lynx’s neck. “Are you all right, Brother?” “Yeah.” Lynx let his head drop onto Fox’s shoulder, trapping little Kitten between them. “I was just thinking of Rabbit.” Fox said nothing but moved his hand up to stroke Lynx’s braids. The two of them had grown up together, had been through Pack training and initiation together, and Fox knew exactly what Rabbit had meant to Lynx. Strong, wiry arms slipped around Lynx’s waist. Kitten pressed soft kisses to Lynx’s throat. He didn’t speak, but Lynx gladly took the physical comfort he offered. The three of them stood huddled together for several minutes. By the time they broke apart, Lynx felt better. He and Kitten curled on the floor while Fox stood at the crack in the wall, staring out at the increasingly loud group gathered around the bonfire. Lynx drifted to sleep with Kitten in his arms and dreamed of Rabbit’s kisses.

Lynx was officially on watch when the nomad gang began to stir the next morning, but by that time the sun had climbed halfway to its zenith and Fox and Kitten had been awake for a long time. The three of them had already eaten a breakfast of cheese and dried apples just after sunrise, while the nomads still lay sleeping around the smoldering remains of their bonfire. When he rose with the first light and saw the gang sprawled on the ground, oblivious to any danger, Kitten wanted to creep outside and slit their throats while they slept. Fox managed to talk him out of it, but it wasn’t easy. Only the knowledge that the secret of their nest’s location would die with them kept Kitten in the hot, breathless hiding place with his Brothers. “They’re heading north.” Lynx turned from the crack in the wall where he and his Brothers stood watching the gang outside and reached for the satchel containing their food and water skins. “Come on.”

They waited until the nomads were almost out of sight, then slipped out the gap in the wall and crept through the weeds and rubble in their wake. Lynx was glad of the ruins rising tall and thick all around them. The close huddle of ancient structures provided good cover. Not perfect, but it didn’t have to be perfect. The nomads seemed unconcerned with hiding or preventing attack. They strolled along bold as a bear in spring, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Not once did a single man of them so much as glance back. Still, a Pack Brother knew better than to relax his guard when it came to the nomads. They saw and heard more than it seemed. The gang walked until the middle of the afternoon, finally stopping in a part of the city not far from where the nomads had attacked the Pack two moon-cycles ago and Lynx had found the man with Rabbit’s knife among the dead. Lynx, Fox and Kitten crouched behind a vine-covered brick wall standing alone in a sea of tall grass and young trees and watched the gang huddle together at the entrance to a building about fifty paces away that looked ready to fall in on itself any minute. “Arrogant bastards, aren’t they?” Fox glowered at the nomads’ backs. They spoke in voices too low for anyone but Kitten to hear, but judging by their gestures, whatever debate they held was a heated one. Once again, none of them bothered to look around, never mind set a watch. “Don’t think anything can hurt them, do they? Of course, they can’t hear or smell anything over themselves.” Kitten waved an impatient hand in Fox’s direction. He scowled but fell silent. Lynx spared them both a fond sidelong glance before turning his attention back to the sinister sprawl of ruins behind them. He’d been tagged to watch their backs while Kitten tried to listen in on the nomads’ conversation. Fox sat between the two of them, fingering his knife and glaring at the gang. Owing to the steady northern breeze, even Lynx could smell them from here— stale sweat, fresh blood, spilled liquor, the stench of bile and perforated intestines from the woman they’d killed and eaten the night before. The odor must be enough to gag Fox, with his sensitive nose.

“Oh, Great Mother.” Kitten’s gaze cut toward Lynx and Fox. “Brothers, we need to be more careful from here on out. They’ve sensed us.” Lynx’s body went tense. Moving in silence, he rose to his feet, back to the brick wall, and unsheathed his knife. His Brothers did the same. “Tell me,” he breathed in Kitten’s ear. “They don’t know for sure we’re here right now.” Kitten kept his voice down to a barely audible whisper. “But some of them suspect they’ve been followed. They thought the city felt different. That’s how they put it. They didn’t hear or see anything, it was just a feeling for them. Some of the others believe it. Some of them don’t. That’s what the argument was about.” Fox’s brow furrowed. “So, they’re trying to decide if they should search for us, or what?” Kitten shook his head. “No. They’re arguing over whether or not to go inside.” “Wait, you mean…” Fox’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Mother.” It hit Lynx at the same time. His heart pounded. “Kitten. Is it?” “Yes.” Kitten grinned, showing all his teeth. “That building? It’s the entrance. That’s where they go to ground.” Excitement surged through Lynx’s blood. They’d done it. They’d found the nest.

Chapter Three “We should go straight back to Carwin. Get the Pack and bring them back here.” “What if I’m wrong?” Kitten shook his head. “We should make sure first.” Not for the first time, Fox shot Kitten a look ripe with frustration. He and Kitten had been arguing back and forth about what to do ever since the nomad gang vanished into the building over an hour ago. “Were you wrong? You’re the one with the sharp ears, Brother. Did you hear them right, or not?” Kitten’s eyes narrowed. “Of course I heard them right. I’m just saying, we need to be sure of our facts before we leave. This is our only chance.” They both turned to Lynx, who’d remained silent on the issue so far. “It’s your call, Lynx,” Fox said. “What do you think?” What Fox said was true, but Lynx hadn’t yet offered a verdict for a reason. He could see both sides. If only they had more time, if he could have some space to himself to think, maybe he could come to a good, solid decision. But he had no space, and they were out of time. He arched his back, stretching his cramped muscles. “It’s not really safe to go into that building. We need to get back to Carwin as quickly as possible.” He laid a hand on Fox’s arm before the beginnings of a smirk on his face could turn into damaging words. “But, I think Kitten has a point. We need to make sure this is the place.” Kitten wisely kept quiet. Fox scowled. “What if we’re caught?” “If we’re caught…” Lynx stared at each of his Brothers in turn. “We’ll just have to make sure we’re not. We have to be sure either we get away clean, or they kill us. But if we bring the Pack back here and it turns out it’s not the right place, what then? Maybe we all just trek back home, but what if that’s not what happens? What if it’s some kind of trap?” Fox’s eyes went wide. “The whole Pack could be lost.”

“And Carwin would be left unprotected.” Kitten swallowed, his face dead white. “I hadn’t actually thought of that, but you’re right.” Lynx nodded. “Exactly.” “So what should we do?” Fox studied the unremarkable building. “I don’t think we ought to stay here any longer than we have to. The longer we hang around, the more likely we are to be spotted eventually.” “You’re right.” Drawing his knife, Lynx ran his thumb along the flat of the blade. It was a good weapon. It had killed many enemies in its time. Just this once, he hoped he could make it back home without his trusty knife having to spill any more blood. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think we’re going to have to split up.” “What? No!” Kitten grabbed Lynx’s arm in a bruising grip. “Lynx. No.” Lynx pried his Brother’s fingers from his arm and linked their hands. “Kitten. You’re right. We have to make sure this is the right place.” “But we have to stay together.” Kitten leaned close, blue eyes pleading. “Lynx, please, we shouldn’t split up, it’s a bad idea, listen to me—” “Kitten. Hush.” The harshness of Fox’s voice didn’t match the gentle stroke of his hand down Kitten’s back, but the combination cut off the younger man’s babble. Fox shot Lynx a crooked smile. “Go on, Brother. I think I know where you’re going with this.” Lynx took the time to plant a soft kiss on Kitten’s lips. “All right?” Kitten nodded, though he didn’t look happy. “Sorry.” “No need. You’re right. We wouldn’t normally want to split up. But this time I think it’s our best option.” Lynx touched Kitten’s cheek as he settled back into a crouch, his knife loose and ready in his hand. Lynx let Kitten’s other hand slide from his. “Here’s my plan. I’ll go into the building and check it out, make sure there’s actually signs of a nest there. Anything at all to make me think it’s a nest, rather than just a temporary camp. The two of you hide closer by, in that building

next door.” He pointed at a near-ruin of bricks overgrown with ivy not ten paces from the western corner of the nest building. “Watch my back. If you see anyone coming, Fox, give a hawk call. I’ll either get out or hide until I can leave safely.” The look in Kitten’s eyes turned hard. “You want us to leave you if you can’t get out.” Fox kept stroking Kitten’s back without looking away from the building outside. Kitten stared at Lynx, his gaze unwavering, and Lynx sighed. Pack never left a Brother behind. Never. It was one of their most sacred rules. But anyone who lived long enough in the Pack learned that sometimes rules had to be broken. He hardly knew how to explain such a thing to someone like Kitten, who would die for his Brothers without hesitation but would never understand the need to leave one of them behind in order to save the tribe. “We don’t know whether or not more of them are out here somewhere,” Lynx said after a few seconds casting around for the right words. “We need to know for sure if this is the nest, but we can’t afford for all three of us to get trapped in there if nomads come upon that building while we’re exploring it. If I go in alone and something goes wrong, you and Fox’ll have a chance of getting away and bringing back the Pack.” “The safety of the tribe’s the most important thing. Lynx’s plan gives us the best chance of at least one of us getting back to the tribe with the information of where to find the nest.” Fox studied Kitten’s profile in obvious concern for a moment, then stood and leaned against the brick wall. “We should get moving. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that the gang’ll come back.” Kitten didn’t say a word. Didn’t move. Just sat on his haunches, his knife hand balanced on his knee, staring at Lynx like he’d never seen him before. Lynx stared back. Fox was right, they needed to move, but this plan wouldn’t work unless all three of them knew their parts and stuck to them. Lynx had no intention of going into that building until he’d satisfied himself that Kitten would leave him if it became necessary to do so.

Finally, when Fox began to fidget with impatience, Kitten looked away, his shoulders slumped. “How long do we give you?” “If I’m not out by two hours before sunset, go back without me.” Lynx stood, held a hand down for Kitten and hauled him to his feet. “It shouldn’t take me that long, but I’ll leave myself some extra time just in case.” Fox shook his head. “If you don’t come back and there’s no nomads around, one of us should at least do a quick check inside, in case you’re hurt but not captured.” “Fox can check inside if you don’t come back in time,” Kitten said, cutting off Lynx’s automatic protest. “He can smell any humans indoors way before any of us would hear or see them. I’ll stay outside and keep a lookout for the nomads.” “If I can’t find you with a quick search, we’ll go back to Carwin as planned and bring the Pack to take out the nest.” Fox gripped Lynx’s shoulder, his dark gaze intense. “It won’t compromise the overall plan, Lynx. And we don’t want to lose you.” The way we lost Rabbit. The memory of his dead Brother—his smile, his laughter, his touch in the dark— clutched at Lynx’s chest. Great Mother, he wished that would stop happening. He fought back the tight burn in his throat. “Yes. All right. But don’t spend too much time on it. Do a quick check, keep the entrance in sight at all times, get back to Kitten within a few minutes and get out whether you find me or not. Promise me, Fox.” Fox hauled Lynx close by the back of the neck and kissed him hard. “I swear.” He pulled away, his knife in his hand. “We should move, Lynx. We’re ready.” Kitten’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing to contradict Fox’s declaration. Lynx handed Kitten the satchel. He made sure his fingers brushed Kitten’s. The corners of Kitten’s mouth tipped up in the barest smile, and Lynx smiled in return. “All right, Brothers. Let’s go.”

They moved cautiously toward the ruined building east of the nest, with Lynx in the lead and Kitten in the rear. All three of them wriggled through a swaying curtain of ivy into a tiny open space fashioned partly from the ancient walls and partly from the weeds, trees and vines crowding all around. “Be careful,” Fox whispered, scanning the landscape with narrowed eyes. “It’s too quiet around here.” Lynx peered out through the tangle of greenery. Nothing stirred in the dusty heat outside, not even a rat. Not even a bug scuttling through the dirt, for that matter. He frowned. “Do you smell them?” “No. Well, yes, but it’s residual.” Fox ran the hand not gripping his knife handle over the back of his neck. His dark skin gleamed with sweat in the heat. “I just don’t like the feel of the place, that’s all.” “I’ll be careful. Don’t worry.” Lynx turned to Kitten. “Do you hear anything?” Kitten shook his head. “No one’s around other than us, but Fox is right. It’s way too quiet. I don’t think they’re very far off. We need to hurry.” Leaning as far through the ivy curtain as he dared, Lynx studied the ruins in every direction he could see. Heat-shimmer rose from the ground, breaking the line of the horizon into strange, wavering shapes. Nothing moved. Even the breeze from earlier had died, leaving the air thick, damp and dead. The whole world felt tense. Breathless. Lynx didn’t like it any more than his Brothers did. He flexed his fingers around his knife handle. “I’m going to make this fast. Stay alert. I’ll scream if I’m caught. If you hear that, don’t wait. Get out. Understand?” After a moment, Fox nodded. Kitten wrinkled his nose but eventually nodded as well. Lynx clapped each of them on the shoulder, then ducked under the tangle of vegetation hiding the wide crack in the northern wall. He ignored the dread that coiled in the pit of his stomach when he left his Brothers behind.

A minor wilderness of briars, young trees and tall grasses lay between Fox and Kitten’s hiding place and the nomads’ nest. It was easy enough to cross the space and slip through the gap in the eastern side of the old building without much chance of being spotted by anyone who happened to be watching. The cavernous room beyond the opening wasn’t in much better shape than the space where he, Fox and Kitten had spent the previous night. Shade-dwelling weeds sprouted through a thick layer of dirt and splinters Lynx figured had once been a sturdy wooden floor. In the southwest corner, an oak tree sprouted straight up through a hole in the ceiling. Vines spilled through the opening and spread out to cover the walls and creep across the floor. Glimpses of a tremendous window showed through the vegetation on the southern wall. A window Lynx and his Brothers hadn’t spotted while watching the nomads earlier, because it looked like brick from the outside. Lynx had never seen anything quite like it. He resisted the urge to go take a closer look. There wasn’t time for anything but his mission. Get in, look for signs of the nest, get out. He couldn’t allow himself to become distracted by one of Char’s little mysteries, no matter how interesting. Jogging past the window, he scanned the western end of the south wall for the place where the nomads had entered. He found it after a few seconds, a narrow rectangular entry with a rusted metal door hanging crooked from one hinge. A trail of trampled grasses and footprints in the dirt led from the door to a spot on the northern side of the room where the ivy hung in a curtain too thick to be natural. That had to be it. Heart racing, Lynx crossed to the place where the tracks vanished behind the vines. He stood to one side, his knife in a battle-ready grip, held his breath and listened. Somewhere in the humid green dimness, an insect or small animal scuttled through the weeds. Beyond the veil of ivy, nothing moved. Lynx let out his breath in a slow, silent stream. He took a moment to calm and center his mind, then crouched and peered through the straggling ends of the

vines. He saw nothing but blackness. With a swift glance over his shoulder, he stood and slipped through the hanging greenery, his back to the wall and his knife ready in his hand. At first, the darkness remained unrelieved, but he could feel the empty space around him. A large space, too large for a single, simple room. He waited. After a moment, his eyes caught a vague pale gold light flickering somewhere far off. It wasn’t much, but once his vision adjusted, the light grew strong enough for him to pick out a hallway that ran straight away from the wall for about ten or twelve paces then dove down a set of steep steps. The light—as well as the sense of a vast, open area—came from somewhere at the bottom. Lynx stood there, chewing his bottom lip and thinking hard. The Great Mother Herself couldn’t talk him into going down those steps. The hallway led only in that direction, so the nomad gang had to have gone that way, and Lynx didn’t particularly want to fight them alone. But he needed to know whether a nest or a simple camp lay at the bottom of the stairs. The sooner, the better. He wanted to get back to his Brothers and get out of this place. Their time was short. He could feel it. Moving with a silence born of a lifetime’s skill, Lynx eased a few paces down the hall toward the top of the stairs. As he drew closer, the faint light picked out words carved into the wall at the point where it began to slope down into the ground. Words. Writing, at the top of what Lynx felt more surely with every passing second was the nest. Excitement raced through Lynx’s blood, making his heart pound. Great Mother, the nomads can write. He shook off the thought as soon as it struck him. The edges of the words looked dull and rounded, as if they’d been there for a long time. As if they’d been etched into the ancient wall by someone from the old world.

Lynx stared, wishing with all his heart Rabbit was still alive. He’d been one of the handful of Pack Brothers who could read. Lynx himself knew a few individual letters, thanks to Rabbit’s relentless attempts to teach him, but that was all. He’d never learned to tell one word from another. He crouched and gazed down the steps as far as he could see. Nothing moved. He turned to peer over his shoulder. The muted, dappled sunlight from the room behind him remained undisturbed. As far as he could tell, nothing human stirred anywhere nearby except himself. He saw nothing, heard nothing. Why, then, did the skin at his nape prickle and his shoulders grow tense? He didn’t understand it, but now wasn’t the time to start questioning his instincts. With one final, longing look at the letters on the wall—the first one was a “Q”, he felt certain—he hurried toward the tumble of ivy between himself and the exit. He peered through a gap in the greenery. The room beyond lay empty, but something seemed wrong. The air felt brittle, as if some sound had disturbed it just seconds before and he’d missed it. His knife at the ready and all his senses on alert, he slipped past the vines and into the tremendous room, keeping his back to the wall. Something stirred at the base of the tree. Lynx stilled. Focused. A second later he found it and cursed himself for an idiot. A nomad crouched in the weeds at the tree’s roots, staring out the window, one hand planted on the ground and the other curled around the handle of a long metal knife. They always seemed to have metal weapons. Where in the Mother’s name did they get them? No one knew, and it was damned frustrating. Moving with every ounce of his considerable skill, Lynx slid into a squat so that he was invisible behind the tangle of grasses and briars. The nomad didn’t even glance his way, but turned and looked up into the tree’s branches. “Thomas? Anything?” “No,” a voice floated from above. “Are you sure he came in here?”

“Yes, dammit. I saw him. He followed our people in here, just like Jarvis said he would.” The nomad on the ground turned back toward the window, his scowl matching the sharpness in his voice. “I’m not stupid.” “Yeah, well, I don’t see him anywhere.” The one in the tree—Thomas—sounded as irritated as his companion. “Maybe he found the tunnel.” “If he did, he’s trapped and it doesn’t matter, does it?” The grounded nomad let out a harsh laugh and pointed at whatever was happening on the other side of the window. “Oh, hey, the rest of our boys finally showed. Looks like Pack for dinner tonight, friend.” He licked his lips. Thomas said something, but Lynx didn’t hear it. With the ground nomad’s words, all his attention focused on trying to find out what was going on outside. He couldn’t see a damn thing through the layer of vines. Frustrated, he dropped to hands and knees and crawled around the edge of the room through the thick of the weeds until he found a spot where he could peer out through a gap in the ivy. What he saw turned his blood cold. Fox and Kitten stood outside their former hiding place, back to back, fighting against a gang of nomads that outnumbered them at least five to one. As he watched, Kitten’s knife sliced through one man’s throat, swung around and dug into another’s gut on the backstroke. Beside him, Fox broke a nomad’s wrist as if it were kindling, caught his knife as it dropped from his hand and used both weapons to kill two enemies at once. Fox and Kitten were by far the better fighters. They were outnumbered, but managing well so far. If more nomads showed up, though… Another two nomads joined the fight as Lynx watched. He glanced around, assessing his situation. Using the south entrance—the one the nomads had used—was out of the question, because they were right there and would surely spot him. He might be able to get out the side entrance where he’d come in, but an empty space of about five to ten paces lay between it and him. Which meant he may still be seen. You have to risk it. For your Brothers.

His mind made up, Lynx crawled toward the crack in the wall where he’d entered. He had to turn his back on the two nomads to do it. Mother, he hated that. But Fox and Kitten needed him. Secrecy no longer mattered, even if they hadn’t been discovered. They’d found the nest. Lynx was certain of it. Together, the three of them could kill the whole gang and get away. Get back to Carwin and bring the wrath of the Pack down on this awful place. If only he could make it outside. At the southern edge of the weed forest, he stopped and looked west to the tree. The nomad on beneath the tree still stared out the window as if it were his life’s mission to watch the battle outside. In the branches, however, Thomas scanned the ground, dark brows drawn together in a frown, and Lynx cursed in his head. Maybe he hadn’t been seen, exactly, but Thomas must know the difference between grasses swaying from the passage of a rat and a human. He may have to wait, to avoid Thomas calling for reinforcements. If this place was indeed a nest, then there must be many more nomads nearby. Which meant he had to be careful. He crouched there, muscles tight and trembling with the need for action. Ahead and a bit to his right, he spotted a place where he could see through the ivy. He eased closer and peered out just in time to witness a massive man clothed in cured human skin and streaked with blood deal Kitten a blow to the side of the head with one huge fist. Kitten crumpled, and Lynx barely managed to stifle a cry of grief. Fox leapt over his fallen Brother, screaming like one of the big cats that prowled the ruins. His knife opened Kitten’s attacker from rib cage to groin, spilling his intestines in the dirt. The big man fell, but more men came. Fox killed three in rapid succession. The rest backed off, watching his snarling face with wary eyes, but Lynx knew his Brother wouldn’t be able to hold off the entire gang forever. Unless something happened to save him, he would die.

For Lynx, time slowed to a crawl. All of eternity stretched out before him while he considered his options. There weren’t many. He could wait here, invisible, and see if Fox could manage to triumph against the odds. If he did, it wouldn’t be the first time. Or he could break cover, run to Fox’s aid and hope he didn’t bring a whole new horde of nomads down on their heads. Waiting for the best moment to run to the rescue wasn’t an option. Fox didn’t have that long. If he was going to help, Lynx had to go now. A sharp cry cut through Char’s unnatural stillness. The world lurched into motion again. Lynx blinked, and saw Fox’s arm—his left one, thank the Mother, and not his knife arm—dripping blood from a cut just above the elbow. A nomad stood before him, knife glistening red. It was all Lynx needed to make his decision. He broke cover and ran for the crack in the east wall. He only made it a few paces before a sharp cry from the tree told him he’d been spotted. To his dismay, the thunder of many feet followed from the direction of the hallway he’d discovered before. He didn’t dare look back, but burst out of the tall weeds and sprinted toward the opening. Just a little farther… As he ran, he glanced through the ivy. Four more men lay dead at Fox’s feet. To Lynx’s shock and joy, one nomad writhed in the dirt, bleeding the last of his life through a nasty groin wound courtesy of Kitten, who looked pale and sick but hardly dead. Only one man still stood against the two Pack, and he didn’t look eager to go up against them. The sight—the realization of what he had to do—hit Lynx like a lightning bolt. If you go out there, they’ll follow. They’ll kill your Brothers. He had to give them a chance to get away. Stopping in his tracks, Lynx threw his head back and screamed with all his breath.

Just before the first of the nomads caught up to him, he saw Fox cut out the throat of their last attacker, hoist Kitten over his shoulders and run. Tear tracks glistened on his cheeks, but he didn’t hesitate. For that, Lynx was glad. Baring his teeth, he turned to face what seemed like too many nomads to count, struck a battle stance and brandished his knife. Thomas and his man on the ground shouted about the two getting away outside, but no one listened. They all focused on the immediate threat of Lynx, as he’d intended. With any luck, he’d take a good many of them down with him before they sent him to meet the Great Mother. Considering the earlier talk of Pack for dinner, the linen bag over his head and the rope around his neck took him utterly by surprise. The rope cinched tight, cutting off his air. He swiveled and sliced his knife toward the sound of breathing. A curse and the feel of flesh giving way under his blade told him he’d landed the blow. The rope around his neck went slack, but the satisfaction was temporary. Too many hands to fight knocked his knife away, pulled his arms behind his back and bound them tight enough to draw blood if he struggled too hard. He filed that knowledge away. Maybe he could use it later. Blood might make the rope slick enough to loosen and slip off. The noose drew taut again. Unable to draw breath, Lynx fought back a surge of fear. Whatever these butchers had in store for him, he hoped he could endure it with the strength and dignity befitting a Pack Brother. Oddly, his last thought before he passed out was of Rabbit. Whatever had happened to him all those years ago, Lynx hoped it wasn’t this.

When he woke, his skull felt like it was coming apart. Every movement of the wide shoulders beneath him jostled his head—which hung down on the man’s chest— and made him want to vomit. Wait. Shoulders? Why am I on someone’s shoulders? Being carried?

Lynx fought to remain still and feign unconsciousness as the memories returned in a flood. The attack. His Brothers’ escape. His own capture. The rope around his neck. Being choked into insensibility with nomads all around him. He forced himself to lie limp and take in whatever details he could. Ropes bit into his arms and legs, but the feeling hadn’t left his hands and feet in spite of how tightly he was bound, so they must not have gotten very far. Concentrating harder, he noticed a downward lurch with each step the man carrying him took. They were taking him down the stairs he’d found earlier. Down into the earth. Down to the nest. He’d already guessed as much, but knowing was another thing altogether. His belly tensed, gut reaction overcoming all his training for a split second before he got himself under control. The man carrying him didn’t seem to notice. Lynx silently thanked the Great Mother for his luck. Maybe they only intended to slaughter him properly once they got him to their nest, but instinct told him they had something else in mind. Some purpose for which they needed him alive. As far as Lynx was concerned, each moment he lived represented a chance for escape. That meant he had a duty to learn what he could about this place, and the road down. As far as he could tell, his captors didn’t realize he’d woken, which left him free to observe as much as possible with a bag over his head. He hung there, head throbbing and numbness creeping into his fingers, and counted each swaying step, even though he had no idea how far they’d already come. The steps hadn’t ended yet, he knew that much. At three hundred and twenty-seven paces, the ground leveled out and their pace picked up. The sound of the gang’s footsteps echoed. Whenever one of them spoke, the voice reverberated as if they moved through a long, low-ceilinged cave. The whole place smelled much less stale than Lynx would’ve expected. A few of the nomads seemed to be carrying torches, since the light leaking through the loosely woven fabric over his face had remained pretty constant all

the way down the long staircase. As soon as they’d reached the bottom, however, the level of light had begun to increase. By the time Lynx counted another four hundred and four paces—including a right turn, a twist to the left, and a short flight of steps upward—the light had grown to equal that of at least six or seven torches placed within a few paces of each other. It would’ve been confusing, except that Lynx was fairly certain the additional light came from the other people he now heard moving all around them, talking and laughing, discussing business and trade, gossiping and going about their lives as if this were a tribe rather than a nest of bloodthirsty nomads. Someone stopped next to him, stinking of old sweat, and prodded at his back and shoulders. “Hey, Jarvis. I want this one after he’s checked over.” It was a female voice. Lynx barely managed to hold back a startled noise. In all his time with the Carwin Tribe Pack, he’d never once seen a female nomad. The man beside Lynx’s carrier made an impatient noise. “You can’t pick until they’re in the pens, Maryanne. You know that.” “And you know we need good, strong bodies out on the farms, or we won’t have any food come harvest time. Just ’cause you’re Brass don’t mean you can keep the crops from dyin’ if we ain’t got nobody to take care of ’em.” She poked at Lynx’s buttocks, dug her fingers into the meat of his thighs, ran her fingertips along the calluses on his palms. Finally, she grunted in evident satisfaction and took her hands off him. “Randall’s at the clinic today. I don’t give a shit what you think about it, you tell him I want this one. He’ll put in a word at the pens so’s they’ll save him for me.” Booted footsteps clomped away. Jarvis, the man who’d spoken before, let out an angry huff. “God, she’s a pain.” “A problem too, if you ask me,” the big man under Lynx said as the group began moving again. “Nobody asked you, Channing,” a different voice called. Several others laughed.

The big man—Channing, what a strange name—chuckled, which Lynx thought an odd response to being laughed at. “Okay, okay. All I’m saying is, she puts way too much stock in what that damn slave says. Lets him too close to things, you know?” He shrugged, sending fresh waves of nausea through Lynx’s stomach. “I’m just saying. Seems like something the Redemption might do, you know?” Redemption? Curious—and sensing the sudden tension around him—Lynx strained his ears to pick up whatever the nomads might say. “You shouldn’t talk about that here.” Jarvis again, his voice dangerously calm. “Not with slaves around.” “What, him?” Channing laughed. “He’s still out. Besides, we just caught him. How could he—?” “Be quiet, goddammit.” Channing fell silent. Probably afraid of making Jarvis angry. Lynx shoved his curiosity to the back of his brain and focused all his senses on his surroundings. The noise and smell of people pressed in on him from all sides. Many more people than just the gang who’d caught him. Men, women, children even. So many people. More than a mere nest of nomads. What were they doing here? As the group walked deeper into this endless open space beneath the earth, Lynx picked up the pop, sizzle and mouth-watering scent of vegetables cooking in an oiled pan. Through the linen over his face, he could just make out the flicker of a cooking fire nearby. It could certainly be a campfire, but the pan and oil argued against it. In fact, even when he, Owl and Wolf had talked about the possibility of a nomad nest in Char, they hadn’t envisioned anything this permanent. Women. Children. Slaves. Farms. How in the Mother’s name did you farm underground? Or did they somehow maintain a farm on the surface, and the Pack had never found it? Char was a vast city, after all. Parts of it still remained unexplored by the Carwin Tribe Pack. Could those areas possibly hold enough crops to feed an entire underground settlement? One that had existed right under the Carwin Tribe’s nose for the Mother only knew how long?

How long have they been taking our people and turning them into slaves? It seemed an obvious thing, now that Lynx knew this place existed, and that it used slave labor. People had occasionally vanished from the Carwin Tribe for as long as he could remember, and long before that. Anger burned in his gut when he thought of his people enslaved to these animals. A thought prodded at the back of his mind. A memory of the day Rabbit disappeared. They’d been exploring some of the buildings in an area not too far from the nest entrance. Rabbit was there, then he wasn’t. They hadn’t been able to find him, or any sign of him. Seven years ago, his fate had been a mystery no one could solve. Not then, and not in all the years since. Now, with his hard-won knowledge from the past few hours, Lynx found the events of that long-ago day took on new meaning. He thought of Rabbit’s knife strapped to the dead nomad’s leg. Of how he’d been so sure it meant Rabbit was dead. But they’d taken his own knife, and evidently meant to sell him as a slave rather than kill him. His heart lurched. Was it possible? The motion stopped, shaking him out of his thoughts, and he cursed himself when he realized he’d become lost in speculation and failed to keep track of events around him. Now they seemed to have reached their destination. The clinic, whatever that might be. A door squeaked open and banged shut. “Hello, Jarvis. I see you’ve brought another one.” A different woman’s voice. Calm, intelligent, full of disapproval. Lynx memorized the rhythm and timbre of her speech, in case he never saw her face. If she disagreed with Jarvis and his men taking prisoners as slaves, that made her a potential ally, however small that potential might be. Jarvis laughed. “Hi, Emily. Tell you what, why don’t you just go get that slave who’s always hanging around here and get him to check this guy out for us, huh? We got stuff to do.”

Emily didn’t answer, which was answer enough. The door opened again. Channing began moving. A moment later, Lynx felt the change in the air when they entered whatever sort of structure existed underground. It felt closer and warmer, and he smelled sickness beneath the odor of many unwashed bodies crowded together. Somewhere to his right, a man moaned in pain. A girl’s voice murmured soothing words. All around, Lynx heard similar sounds—people in distress, others trying to ease their suffering. He guessed the purpose of the clinic must be healing. The sheer number of people here—sick, injured or both, he had no way of knowing—did nothing to lessen his unease over what might happen to him. Especially since this appeared to be the place the nomads took their ill or injured slaves for treatment. Nomads. Not exactly the right name for them, given what he now knew. He didn’t have time to think on that any further. Channing dumped him on his side on a hard, thin pallet whose distinctive crackle told him it was stuffed with straw. He wondered where it came from, if they harvested the grasses in these farms they’d somehow managed to hide from the Carwin Tribe Pack. “Maryanne says she wants this one. Tell Randall.” Jarvis slapped Lynx on the thigh. “See you around, brother.” Jarvis laughed, then Lynx heard the heavy footfalls of the nomad gang leaving the clinic. “God, those men.” Emily spat the word as if it were the worst sort of insult. The straw pallet dipped and crackled as she sat beside Lynx. “Randall! Come here, I need you.” A finger nudged Lynx’s chin upward then hooked beneath the rope around his neck, tugging it away from his throat. “I know you’re awake. Don’t move. I’m going to cut this off.” Lynx held still while she severed the rope with a single swift slice of what must be a very sharp knife. The pieces of the rope fell away. The sound of bare feet on earth approached. “Ma’am? You needed me? Oh, Mother…”

The man’s voice hit Lynx like a fist. He needed the damned bag off his face now, right now, so he could see for himself, see if he’d really heard what he thought he’d heard. Desperate, he thrashed and bucked on the bed, trying to knock the linen loose from his face. Emily made an impatient noise. “Damn the Brass, anyway. I keep telling them they choke people too long. Randall, help me hold him.” Strong male hands grabbed his shoulders. He stilled beneath the touch, shaking. “Please,” he whispered. Someone—Emily, it must be—whipped the bag from his head. He saw her from the corner of his eye, slight, pale and frowning, saw the crowded, dingy room in the flickering golden light, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, because of the man currently holding him by the shoulders and staring into his eyes with the same shock and longing he knew was etched into his own face. Rabbit. After seven long years, he’d found Rabbit.

Chapter Four For several endless seconds, Lynx lay frozen. Afraid to move. Afraid to speak. Afraid to breathe. Afraid Rabbit wasn’t real. More afraid he was. Finally, when Lynx thought he might have to call Rabbit’s name just to relieve the tension—and what in the Mother’s name would he do if Rabbit vanished, if he was nothing but a dream after all?—Rabbit leaned down and took Lynx’s mouth in a kiss exhilarating and familiar enough to make Lynx forget the past seven years apart had ever happened. He arched into it, into Rabbit’s familiar calloused hands and soft, stroking tongue. He heard a low, desperate moan and knew it was his own, but he didn’t care. He had Rabbit back. Here, right here. Touching him. Kissing him. Soon enough, Lynx would have to think about his situation. Specifically, how to get out of it. But right now, nothing compared to the single, sun-bright fact that Rabbit was alive. “Randall, remember yourself.” Emily’s harsh whisper broke through the fog in Lynx’s mind, but he still would’ve clung to Rabbit if his hands hadn’t been bound. As it was, he barely stopped himself from pushing up on his elbows in an attempt to follow when Rabbit pulled away. He stared into Rabbit’s eyes, all his questions reflected in his own. Rabbit gave a slight shake of his head, his lips curved into a faint smile as if to say later. He looked up at Emily, who stood beside the cot twisting her thin fingers together and darting nervous glances around the room. “Sorry, ma’am. This is—” Rabbit’s voice shook. Broke. He caressed Lynx’s face with a hand that trembled just a little. “Lynx is my Brother.”

Emily didn’t even look surprised. She simply nodded, and Lynx wondered how much she knew about Carwin and the Tribe, and what it truly meant to be a Pack Brother. “I see.” Rising to her feet, she scanned the room in a swift, practiced move that cemented her in Lynx’s mind as a potential ally in his quest for escape. Those content with their lot in life didn’t develop such a keen awareness of their environment. “Well, then, you’ll be pleased to learn that Maryanne wants him. When you’re finished with the exam, take him to the pens and let Henry know. I wish I could let you stay with him today, but I need you back here. We’re having another wave of headaches and vomiting in people living in the deeps. I need all the help I can get.” She gave Rabbit’s shoulder a squeeze, shot Lynx a look he couldn’t quite interpret and moved across the aisle and two beds down, where a woman lay moaning and clutching her pregnant belly. Lynx stared up into Rabbit’s eyes, those deep brown eyes he hadn’t seen in such a long, lonely time. Great Mother, he wanted to run his thumb over the bump in the bridge of Rabbit’s nose where a nomad had broken it years ago, rake his fingers through the thick black hair—cut short now, no longer brushing Rabbit’s shoulders in wild, shaggy disarray—pull off the coarse cotton shirt and run his palms over Rabbit’s golden-brown skin. He longed to kiss each familiar scar on Rabbit’s wiry body. He tugged at the ropes binding his wrists, though he knew it was useless. If only his voice hadn’t deserted him. With a soft, fond laugh, Rabbit leaned down, both hands on Lynx’s cheeks, and pressed their foreheads together. “Lynx. My Brother. My Wildcat. Oh, I’ve missed you.” Tilting his head, he kissed Lynx again, a tender brush of lips that made Lynx ache for more. He petted Lynx’s braids, rubbed his nose against Lynx’s. His breath was warm and damp on Lynx’s mouth. “What happened?” Lynx shook his head, his throat tight. “It doesn’t matter.” And it didn’t, not really. He’d been caught. Did it make any difference how, or why? He didn’t admit, even to himself, how much he feared telling Rabbit about the Pack’s plan. Rabbit was his Brother, his love, but this was enemy territory. For all

he knew, this place had Seers more powerful than any the Carwin Tribe had ever known. If these people could look into his mind, he’d just as soon keep his thoughts hidden. Rabbit studied Lynx’s face as if he could see everything Lynx tried so hard not to show. He could have, once. Lynx wondered if Rabbit still possessed the power to read him as easily as he read the old-world books they used to find sometimes during patrols in Char. He held Rabbit’s gaze and tried to convey with a look all the things he couldn’t say out loud. Endless seconds later, Rabbit’s lips curved into a wry smile. “We’ll have a long talk later, Brother. In the meantime…” He reached toward the rough wooden table beside the cot. When he drew back his hand, he held a knife and a strip of hemp fabric with many thin, trailing ends clearly meant as a means of fastening it around a person’s neck. “I’m going to cut your hands free now. Then I’ll need to examine you to make sure you’re healthy and unharmed.” Lynx obligingly rolled further onto his side so Rabbit could reach his wrists. “And the collar?” He eyed the man a couple of beds away, who wore a similar hemp collar around his neck. “It’s their way, that’s all. They don’t really know anything else. The groundhogs— the people down here—aren’t like the Brass. The nomads, that is.” Rabbit grasped the bonds holding Lynx’s arms behind his back and pulled them taut. They fell away after a couple of skilled strokes from Rabbit’s knife. He rolled Lynx onto his back and inspected the places where the rope had dug into Lynx’s wrists. “Hmm. It’s not too bad. I’ll put some salve on it in a minute.” Leaning forward, he turned Lynx’s head to the side and peered at his throat. “Your neck looks okay. Is there any pain? Any broken skin around the back?” “No, it’s fine.” Lynx drew a deep breath, just to take in the familiar scent of Rabbit’s skin beneath the miasma of sweat and sickness thick in the air. He peered at the length of well-worn cloth around Rabbit’s neck. The sight of it hurt, though he wasn’t sure why. After all, it wasn’t like he hadn’t already figured out Rabbit’s place in this society. Still… “Why are you collared?”

Rabbit raised his eyebrows. “I’m a slave. We all wear collars.” “That woman—Emily—doesn’t treat you like a slave.” Lynx lifted his head and allowed Rabbit to slip the fabric strip around the back of his neck, because fighting it would be pointless. “You obviously have responsibilities other slaves don’t.” “You figured that out just from what you’ve seen in this clinic?” The expression on Rabbit’s face said he remembered Lynx’s talent for playing dead. Lynx grinned in spite of everything. “The men who caught me talked a lot.” He didn’t want to repeat what all they’d said, not in this public place. But he thought Rabbit got the point. Pursing his lips, Rabbit started doing up the complex overlapping laces that held Lynx’s collar in place. “I’ve proven myself trustworthy, so, yes, my owner gives me certain responsibilities. Like loaning me out to this clinic to perform medical exams on new slaves.” Sitting back, he ran a finger beneath the collar around Lynx’s neck. “How does that feel? If it’s too tight, I can loosen it.” “It’s not too tight.” In fact, the fabric was so light and soft Lynx suspected he might stop noticing it before long. Which would not do. He never wanted to forget what these people had made him—a slave. An object. Less than human. Something in Rabbit’s voice and the set of his features made Lynx wonder if he still remembered that. Lynx shook off the idea the moment it occurred to him. Of course Rabbit remembered. How could anyone forget such a thing? Especially a Pack Brother. Besides, hadn’t he said as much only a moment ago? I’m a slave, he’d said. No room for ambivalence there. So why did the look on Rabbit’s face make Lynx’s stomach roll with apprehension? He didn’t understand it. This should be a joyful reunion, no matter the circumstances. Rabbit was alive. Alive. Everything else was just details. Or should be. Lynx resented the unwelcome caution forcing him to treat his Brother—his

Rabbit, the man who’d once been his heart, blood and breath—with anything less than complete trust. Scooting closer to the head of the bed, Rabbit leaned over to peer down into Lynx’s eyes. “As soon as I’ve examined you, I’ll take you to the slave pens. But don’t worry. My owner, Maryanne, has already reserved you, so you’re only going there to wait until I can take you to her farm.” He said it as if it were a good thing. Lynx was glad he’d be able to stay with Rabbit, but he couldn’t see any part of his slavery as positive. If Rabbit noticed Lynx’s silence, he didn’t let on. He sat back, watching Lynx with bright eyes. “I’ll need to take these clothes off you so I can examine you.” Lynx hadn’t worn a shirt, and his moccasins were gone. The men who caught him had probably taken them, though if they thought it would prevent his escape, they were mistaken. They would learn that. He undid his laces and lifted his hips for Rabbit to remove his buckskins. As he tugged off Lynx’s pants, Rabbit trailed his fingertips over Lynx’s skin, over his hipbones and his thighs and the hard curves of his calf muscles. His gaze raked over Lynx’s body, his longing so palpable Lynx imagined he felt it as surely as Rabbit’s hands on him. Lynx’s body reacted, in spite of the strangers all around, the stench of sickness and his unwelcome, unfamiliar wariness toward his Brother. He bit his lip but couldn’t fight it. He’d always been helpless against what Rabbit made him feel. Setting the dirty buckskins on the end of the cot, Rabbit looked into Lynx’s eyes with the same smile he used to flash across the Pack quarters, the one that meant meet me behind the beech tree, and oh, Mother, it made Lynx ache for those long-lost days. As quickly as it had appeared, the smile faded again. “Were you injured when they captured you?” “No.” Lynx swallowed when Rabbit felt from side to side along his belly with warm, gentle fingers. “There’s so many things I want to ask you.”

“I know.” Rabbit ran his hands along Lynx’s ribs, searching for breaks and bruises with an expert touch. “Like I said before, we’ll have a long talk later.” He nudged Lynx’s head to one side and leaned close, as if inspecting his neck and ear. “This isn’t the place for some of the things I know you want to ask,” Rabbit whispered. “After Emily lets me leave today, I’ll come get you. Maryanne will have paid for you by then. I’ll take you home and tell you everything you want to know.” Home? Home was back in Carwin. How could Rabbit think of any part of this place as home? Lynx hid the sickening twist in his stomach behind a nod and a smile. “Can you tell me what this place is called, at least?” “This is Queen City.” Queen City. The letter Q on the wall above the staircase. Pointing the way. Not that it mattered. Even if Lynx could’ve read it, he wouldn’t have known what it meant. Taking Lynx’s hand in his, Rabbit laced their fingers together and stared at Lynx with solemn eyes. He laid his free hand on Lynx’s cheek. “I’m sorry they caught you, Lynx, I really am, but Mother help me, I’m so glad to have you with me again.” Lynx couldn’t pretend he was glad to be here, but… But it wasn’t that simple. Rabbit was here, solid and real and alive, and nothing was simple anymore. He closed his eyes. Turned his face into the warmth of Rabbit’s palm. “Me too.”

Not only had Rabbit lost none of his healing skills in his years here, he’d actually learned a few things. He pressed, thumped, asked questions and even listened to Lynx’s chest and belly through a strange instrument he called a scope. It didn’t look like much—a wide, shallow bell shaped from metal and connected to two

hollow tubes that looked to be fashioned from intestines—but when Rabbit let Lynx stick the tube ends in his ears and press the bell to Rabbit’s chest, he was amazed to hear his Brother’s heartbeat. Once he’d finished the exam and made Lynx drink some water, Rabbit gave him a pair of lightweight cotton pants and a matching shirt nearly identical to the ones Rabbit wore. His buckskins were thrown into a bin in the corner. “No shoes?” Lynx asked as Rabbit took his arm and helped him stand. “I don’t have any here. Maryanne keeps extras at her slave quarters, though.” Rabbit slipped his arm around Lynx’s waist. “How do you feel? Any weakness or dizziness?” “No. I’m fine.” In fact, standing upright gave Lynx a thumping headache and made him very glad he hadn’t eaten in a while, but Rabbit’s solicitous behavior made him feel contrary and unwilling to say anything. He leaned against Rabbit’s side anyway, though, because it felt good. “How long has this place been here?” “Queen City?” Rabbit nudged Lynx forward, and they moved toward the door together. “It was established during the time of the Change. The people of Char went underground to escape the chaos going on above.” “Great Mother.” Stunned, Lynx glanced around at the thin, pale, dispirited people occupying all but a few of the narrow cots on either side of him. “Why have we never known about this? How is this possible?” Rabbit let out a low, humorless laugh. “The city’s remained completely underground ever since the Change. They grow their food here, pump the water from deeper underground, everyone but the Brass live here their whole lives.” He leaned close, putting his mouth to Lynx’s ear. “The nomads. They’re in power here. They run the city.” Something niggled at Lynx’s brain. Something about the nomads. The Brass, rather. If he could just remember…

He and Rabbit had reached the door when it struck him. Stomach churning, he stared at the woman tethered to the cot nearest him. She was slight, bony and so pale the blue veins showed through the thin skin of her arms. In his mind’s eye, he saw the woman in the Carwin ruins—just as frail, just as pallid—screaming away the last moments of her life at the hands of the brutal nomads as he, Fox and Kitten watched helplessly from their hiding place. Apparently the woman’s rapists and murderers were also her countrymen and leaders. Great Mother, how could they do such things to their own people? “Lynx?” Rabbit touched Lynx’s face, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Come on. We need to go.” Forcing the turmoil inside him behind a nod and a blank expression, Lynx allowed Rabbit to lead him from the clinic. Outside the door, he drew a deep breath of relatively fresh air. He couldn’t do a damn thing to help all the people here— Mother only knew how many—who’d already died at the hands of their own leaders. But if he were clever, maybe he could use the knowledge somehow to aid his and Rabbit’s escape. Rabbit touched the collar around Lynx’s neck. “I’m sorry about this. I wouldn’t even have put it on you if I didn’t have to.” “I know.” Lynx wanted to take Rabbit’s hand but wasn’t sure whether or not it was allowed. With people milling all around them now, he hesitated to take the risk and he felt ridiculous asking. He rubbed his palms on the coarse cotton pants and studied the city as they threaded their way through the narrow, rocky street. “How big is this place?” “Not as big as Char, but it’s pretty close. It runs underground toward the northern and eastern borders, and almost all the way to the western border, though most of the population is concentrated here in this series of caverns, under the oldest part of the Char ruins.”

A woman with a basket of vegetables on her shoulder called “Hello” to Rabbit as she passed. Rabbit gave her a nod in return. “The farms are mostly located in the outlying areas closest to the surface.” He flashed the wide, bright smile that still had the power to make Lynx weak in the knees. “Maryanne’s wheat farm is closer to the city center than most. It’s a good place to be.” Lynx’s heart lurched. Torn between anger over what had happened to him and an undeniable joy at being with Rabbit again, he kept his thoughts to himself. Rabbit would see it in his face, of course. Lynx had never been able to hide anything from him. Ignoring as best he could the way Rabbit’s smile turned wry, Lynx went back to staring around him. The place fascinated him in spite of himself, for its similarities to his home as well as its differences. The people all wore clothes similar to the ones Rabbit had given him—loosely woven fabric, some dyed and some left a natural off-white, cut with practicality in mind rather than decoration. Pants and long-sleeved shirts were most common, though some of the women wore long skirts. Low buildings huddled to either side of the path he and Rabbit walked. Some were made of stone, others of wood, still others of something that looked like river reeds, only much larger. Their narrow doorways opened sometimes into darkness, sometimes into dim yellowish light. Some had no roof. Others were covered by a thick, sturdy fabric that looked as if it lay over a framework of some sort. A thought struck Lynx. He touched Rabbit’s arm. “The clinic has a roof.” It was metal, in fact. Large metal sheets. Very odd. “Why does it have a roof and none of these houses do?” “From what I’ve heard, it was built in the very earliest days of Queen City. Some of these stone buildings are from that time as well, but everyone says the clinic is the oldest structure in the city.” Rabbit skirted around a fall of sharp stones in the road. “You don’t really need a roof down here, do you? So most people just don’t bother with them anymore.”

“Why do you think they put one on the clinic?” “I don’t know. Force of habit?” “Yeah. Maybe.” Lynx locked gazes with an old man hanging clothes on a line outside his shack. He frowned, and Lynx looked away. He spotted a row of what looked like fabric houses ahead. A group of children crouched on the ground outside one of them, talking together in low voices. “Great Mother, I’ve never seen a whole house made out of linen before.” “It’s not linen. It’s called canvas. Much stronger and sturdier than any fabric you could make clothes out of.” Rabbit waited until they’d passed the tiny, dirty structures and the group of skinny children before speaking again, his voice low enough to prevent anyone from overhearing. “Those people are the only true nomads here. They live in the deeps and come to the upper levels when they have minerals to trade for food. They’ll stay here for a while in their tents— the canvas houses—then go back to their mines.” “Oh.” A dozen questions fought for space in Lynx’s mind. Emily had said something about a sickness amongst the people of the deeps, hadn’t she? Lynx wondered if they’d brought the sickness with them. He wondered about the deeps—what sort of a place it was, how far away. If it might harbor a way out of here. Most of all, though, he wondered about the people of Queen City. Only moments ago, Rabbit had hinted that the regular citizens—the groundhogs, as he’d called them—spent their entire lives underground. Their pallor certainly argued in favor of that. Even more convincing was the construction of their homes, which spoke of minds which had never known the open sky or the threat of the elements. An entire city, hidden underground for centuries. The concept was so huge he had trouble grasping it. He scanned the streams of people hurrying this way and that on their various businesses. Some were empty-handed. Others carried baskets or pushed small carts, or tugged children by the hands. “There aren’t any animals here. Or do they

keep them somewhere else?” Maybe that was the case. Though in Carwin, anyway, you could usually find at least a few people taking goats to the market for sale, or driving ox-drawn carts. Rabbit shook his head. “No. They don’t have any animals. In fact, the people who were born and raised in Queen City don’t even seem to know what animals are. If there’s a particular history behind that, I haven’t heard it.” He shrugged. “They don’t seem to know anything about the world beyond themselves and their own history. In any case, these caves aren’t exactly the best place to raise animals, and Char isn’t much better.” “I guess it makes sense. These people are all so thin and weak looking, they don’t seem to do a very good job of feeding themselves, so I doubt they’d do very well taking care of livestock even if they had a place to keep them.” To Lynx’s surprise, Rabbit’s jaw tightened. “Speaking of food, we’d better hurry if we’re going to get you to the pens in time to get any of the afternoon rations.” He picked up his pace. Lynx had to trot every few steps to keep up with Rabbit’s longer stride. Puzzled by his Brother’s strange behavior, Lynx jogged to catch up and curled a hand around Rabbit’s arm. “You’re angry with me. Why?” Rabbit didn’t answer. He stared straight ahead, his expression blank. At least he slowed down enough for Lynx to stay at his side without running. Lynx cast a glance around. The crowd had thinned somewhat, and there were fewer buildings. Up ahead, he spotted a fence fashioned out of what looked like metal rope covered in little spikes. Collared slaves sat on straw mats inside, beside metal posts driven into the ground. Lynx wondered how they’d gotten the posts into the stone, but his growing alarm over his Brother’s silence kept him from sparing the question more than a moment’s thought. Just when he’d decided to pose the question again, Rabbit spoke, his voice low and tense. “I know you’re not happy about any of this. I don’t blame you. I wasted a long, long time being absolutely furious at myself and everyone here. But, Lynx…” He trailed off. Sighed. “It’s more complicated than you know, okay?”

“Then explain it to me.” Lynx tightened his hold on Rabbit’s arm until Rabbit looked at him. “If I’m going to survive in this place, I need to understand how it works.” Which was true, no matter how short a time he might spend here. He saw no point in bringing up the fact that he would make an attempt to escape, or that he would take Rabbit with him or die trying. They both knew it already, and this was a dangerous place to say such a thing out loud. Rabbit shook his head. “Later. This isn’t the time or place.” He glanced sidelong at Lynx. “I’ll answer all your questions as best I can, I promise. Just…not here.” Something in Rabbit’s voice made Lynx wonder if his Brother might know things a slave shouldn’t. The thought convinced Lynx to keep his questions to himself, for now. Once they were alone, though? By the Great Mother, he would learn everything Rabbit knew about this city. And he would use it to plan their escape. They arrived at the slave pens without further conversation. Rabbit led Lynx to a gate at one corner of the large rectangular pen. A tall, stoop-shouldered man with a long face and a jagged scar across one cheek stood from a low three-legged stool and approached them. He nodded at Rabbit. “Afternoon, Randall. This the one Maryanne wanted?” Rabbit’s eyebrows went up. “She’s already been by?” “Yup. Came by a little while ago and paid for one new slave. Said you’d be bringing him in later.” “Oh. Yes, sir.” Rabbit shifted Lynx’s leash to his other hand so he could put an arm around Lynx’s shoulders. “This is Lynx.” The man—Henry, it must be—raised his eyebrows. “Lynx. Pack, huh?” Startled, Lynx looked to Rabbit. Rabbit smiled. “Yes. My Brother.”

“So I see.” Henry chuckled. “I swear to Christ, I don’t know how Maryanne always manages to waylay the Brass and save the best ones for herself. I think she’s psychic or something.” He and Rabbit both laughed. Lynx frowned. Christ? What in the Mother’s name was that? And the god some of the Brass had spoken of earlier. These people said the strangest things. Rabbit leaned close. “It’s like their Mother,” he murmured in Lynx’s ear. “I know it’s weird. You’ll get used to it.” Not if I can help it. Lynx kept his face expressionless and his thoughts to himself. Henry eyed him with undisguised curiosity, as if he wondered what went on in Lynx’s mind. “All right, then. Randall, I guess you’d best get back to work. I hear Em’s been pretty busy at the clinic lately. I’ll look after Lynx here until you get back.” “Thank you, sir.” Rabbit dropped his arm from Lynx’s shoulders. “Do you have any afternoon rations left? He needs some food and water.” Lynx swallowed his irritation at being spoken over like he wasn’t there. This was probably the way all new slaves were treated. If he wanted to get himself and Rabbit out of this place, he’d have to make himself as meek and obedient as possible. Put everyone here off their guard. He loved Rabbit with all his soul, but no man was without fault, and Rabbit’s worst one—aside from his impulsiveness—had always been his temper. He’d probably spent his first weeks here lashing out physically and verbally at everyone within reach, making them distrust him to such an extent that escape became impossible and he eventually lost the will to even try. Alone in this dark, dreary, underground kingdom, cut off from his Pack, denied even the simple comfort of sunshine, of wind and rain and grass beneath his feet, he’d become an obedient and trustworthy slave because he’d had no other choice. Lynx had no intention of letting that happen to him. And by the Great Mother, he’d see Rabbit free of this place no matter what it took.

“We got some bread left, sure. And caveberries. That ought to keep your man here on his feet.” Henry grinned, gap-toothed, and clapped Lynx on the arm as though they were Brothers instead of a free man and a slave. Lynx hid his clenched fists behind his thighs and fought to stay calm. Rabbit shot Lynx a look that said he knew exactly how much the too-familiar touch bothered Lynx. “Okay. Well, I’m heading back to the clinic, then.” He took hold of Lynx’s wrist, opened his hand and laced their fingers together. His dark eyes searched Lynx’s face, anxious, full of worry. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” The press of Rabbit’s palm against his after all these long years made Lynx’s throat constrict. He swallowed. Blinked to dispel the burn behind his eyelids. Nodded in response to the question Rabbit hadn’t asked. “I’m fine. I’ll see you soon, Brother.” For a moment Rabbit just stood there staring at Lynx as if he’d like to see through his skull and into his mind. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Lynx’s in a swift, hard kiss. He pulled back with the familiar crooked smile that meant he felt nostalgic and somewhat sad. “Soon, Brother.” He gave Lynx’s hand a squeeze and walked away without looking back. Lynx watched him go. The urge to follow tugged at his insides, but he fought it. Running after Rabbit wouldn’t do either of them any good. Best to do as he was told, for now. Sit quietly until Rabbit returned, listen and learn what he could about Queen City and the people in it. Henry turned toward the fence. “All right, young fella. Let’s get you fed. You look near ’bout dead on your feet.” Lynx waited while Henry unhooked the metal ropes from the posts. He went through the gap when Henry gestured to him, then stood and watched Henry hook the rope-things back into place again. He glanced around as he followed Henry through the crowd of slaves sitting cross-legged on woven mats on the ground. He saw nothing keeping them there. None of the Brass guarded this place, though two of them stood beside the road talking about fifty paces away.

If it hadn’t been for Rabbit, Lynx would’ve already broken free and made a run for it. He couldn’t understand why no one else so much as moved from their spots. “Why don’t they run? What keeps them here?” Maybe he shouldn’t have asked, but curiosity and anger never mixed well for him. “Hush.” Henry glowered at him, shoulders tense. “You better watch your mouth. You start asking questions like that, people might think there’s a reason for it other than just wondering.” Lynx said nothing. He figured he had his answer anyway. Fear was a powerful motivator. Henry cut a sidelong glance at him. “By the way, you should call groundhogs and Brass sir or ma’am. Even me. Not that I give a shit, but we’re in public. You don’t wanna get in trouble right out of the gate.” Lynx forced back the urge to point out how Rabbit appeared to disregard this particular rule at will. Calling attention to Rabbit’s obvious specialty status among his peers when it might well aid their escape hardly seemed like a good idea. “All right. Thank you. Um. Sir.” A small girl grasped at Lynx’s pants as he passed. A boy several years older—a brother, maybe?—picked her up and cradled her on his lap. Both watched Lynx with wary eyes as he followed Henry. Great Mother, children. What kind of people were these to enslave children? At least the pen was clean and slaves looked to be well cared for. Lynx still remembered the stench of blood, urine and unwashed bodies crowded together when the Carwin Tribe Pack had rescued Bear from his brief captivity with the Norman Tribe many years ago. Hopefully that meant the people of Queen City didn’t torture those they captured like the Normans did. “Here.” Taking a frayed straw mat from a pile of them beside the fence, Henry laid it on the ground beside a pole with a red cloth tied around the top. “Sit.”

Lynx looked around. As if bringing life to his memories of a moment ago, a woman from the Norman Tribe sat beside the next post, which also had a red cloth on top. She bared her filed teeth at him. The thin black tattoos across her forehead and chin marked her as one of her tribe’s lowest caste and therefore not much of a threat. Lynx ignored her and sat, though he made sure to face her just in case she decided to try herself against a Pack Brother. “I’ll be back in a minute with some food and water.” Henry pointed a stern finger at the Norman Tribe girl. “And you just behave yourself, Jane. You wouldn’t keep ending up back here if you’d do as you’re told.” “Fuck you, old man.” She spat in Henry’s direction, laughing when he had to jump an awkward step sideways to avoid being hit. A deep red flush climbed up his neck and into his face. “Swear to God, if Darryl hadn’t already reserved you, I’d turn you over to the Brass. We’d see how full of piss and vinegar you’d stay then.” He smiled, and it wasn’t a pleasant one. “Or maybe not.” The girl went pale. She drew her knees up and wrapped both arms around them. Lynx watched Henry walk away. He understood the girl’s reaction. Of course she knew the Brass and the brutal nomad gangs were one and the same. Every man, woman and child within a day’s walk of Char knew and hated the nomad gangs, and Jane—not her real name, Lynx knew—would have figured out the connection between the nomads and the Brass within her first few hours here, just as Lynx had. Even warriors didn’t like to go up alone against a gang of nomads. As a slave, weaponless, most likely bound and badly outnumbered, she would be as close to helpless as one of the savage Normans ever got. Her fear didn’t surprise Lynx at all. Henry’s use of that particular threat, however, was interesting. Evidently the Brass didn’t confine their favorite activities to the ruins above. When Henry returned with a hunk of stale brown bread, a skin of water and a small clay bowl of odd pale pink berries, Lynx managed to thank him politely

enough. Lynx wolfed down the bread and the almost-tasteless berries and drank as much of the water as he could, since he figured Henry would take it away at some point. After he finished, he leaned against the post and prepared himself to wait for Rabbit. The two of them had a lot to talk about.

Rabbit returned after what felt like days, though Lynx knew it couldn’t have been more than a few hours. It felt so disorienting, not being able to see the sun. He stood when Henry motioned him up. His ass had gone numb ages ago from the cold of the stone beneath him seeping through the straw mat and his thin pants. Slaves weren’t allowed to stand in the pens, as he’d swiftly learned when he tried. He rubbed his buttocks to get some circulation going. Henry let them out of the pens. “Lynx, you behave yourself and you won’t end up back in the pens.” He slapped Rabbit on the shoulder. “See you around, Randall.” Rabbit smiled. “Yes, sir. Goodbye.” The two of them followed the line of the fence in the opposite direction from the cluster of the buildings through which they’d passed on their way to the pens. As they went, the walls curved inward and the ceiling sank until after about eighty paces they were walking through a low, wide tunnel sloping gently upward. The slap of Rabbit’s soft-soled shoes and Lynx’s own bare feet on the stone echoed in the empty corridor. Now that Lynx thought of it, they hadn’t seen a single soul since they entered the tunnel. He frowned. “Why aren’t there any other people around?” “This tunnel goes to Maryanne’s farm. There’s nothing else down here.” Taking Lynx’s hand in his, Rabbit squeezed his fingers. “This is a lot to take in all at once, I know. Everything’s so different, and you feel like you’ve had your whole life taken away from you. It’s not something you can fight with a knife, or kill with a bow and arrow, even if you had one. So you don’t know what to do.” His lips curved into a sad little smile, his gaze far away. “At first, it feels like the Great Mother

sent you on a spirit journey into darkness and you can’t get back to the waking world.” He blinked, drew a deep breath and focused on Lynx’s face. “But that doesn’t last forever. Eventually, you realize that slave is just a word, and these people really aren’t so different from us.” Lynx stared, unable to believe what he’d heard. “Brother, you can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.” The dark brows drew together, Rabbit’s brown eyes narrowing in the old, stubborn way Lynx remembered well. “What do you think I’m saying, Brother?” Games. Questions for questions. Also achingly, annoyingly familiar. Lynx wanted to hit that beloved, glowering face. He contented himself with stopping in his tracks and giving Rabbit’s arm a hard shake by the hand he still clutched. “Rabbit. For the Mother’s sake, I’m your Brother. Please just tell me what you’re thinking. Especially now.” Rabbit studied him with wide eyes full of something Lynx would’ve called fear if Rabbit had ever been afraid of anything in his life. Or if Rabbit had any reason to fear him. Lynx frowned. Lifting his free hand, he touched Rabbit’s cheek. “Rabbit—” “They’re good people. The groundhogs.” Rabbit laid his hand over Lynx’s, holding it to his face. His palm felt warm and damp. “The Brass are… Well, you know about them. But the groundhogs aren’t like that. They’re just regular people. They’re no different from the Carwin Tribe, really, except they live underground and don’t eat meat.” “They don’t know the Great Mother either,” Lynx pointed out. “And they keep human beings as slaves, Rabbit. Slaves! Their Mother-damned leaders capture people from outside—your own tribesmen among them—and turn them into things. And they even enslave their own people.” Lynx shook his head. “We would never do such a thing.”

“Wouldn’t we?” Dropping his hand from Lynx’s, Rabbit waved it toward the ceiling. “The Carwin Tribe enslaves prisoners. And my treatment here has been much better than what we subjected prisoner slaves to back in Carwin.” For the first time, guilt prodded Lynx’s gut when he thought of the often harsh treatment of prisoner-slaves by his tribe. He scowled. “Punishment for crimes is different than enslaving innocent people, and you know it. Besides, we only ever used it in punishment for crimes by members of other tribes against Carwin.” “And that makes it all right to turn people into things, as you said?” “When that person commits a crime, yes, it does. Sometimes. Like the man who said he was from the Lantan Tribe to the south, do you remember? He raped Magnolia and burned down her house. She and the children barely got out alive, and he even took their goat. Death was too good for him.” Sighing, Rabbit rubbed his hand across his face. “I remember. And you’re right, he did deserve what he got. But, Lynx, you have to understand. Queen City is built on this system. They’ve had slaves since the city’s early days. They don’t know anything else. Carwin has different classes too—Pack, counsel, farmers, craftsmen, healers, the Seer and her acolytes. Queen City has Brass, groundhogs and slaves. To them, it’s no different.” Lynx laughed, sharp and bitter. “I don’t believe that. How can they not realize?” “Because it’s all they know. They don’t think of slaves as things, and they’d never dream of treating us as less than human. I don’t think their concept of slavery is even the same as ours.” “It’s not right to keep people against their will. How can you defend that?” “I’m not defending it, I’m just trying to explain how they see things.” With a frustrated sigh, Rabbit stared at the rough stone above their heads for a moment. “I know you noticed that most of the slaves aren’t from outside, they’re native to Queen City. They’re born into slavery, Lynx. They live with their parents and their owners until they’re old enough to work, then they’re either kept or sold to a new owner. To them it’s just as normal as it was for us to be taken from our families

when we were boys and placed in the Pack.” Rabbit stared hard into Lynx’s eyes, his own blazing. “It was wrong for them to take you, just like it was wrong for them to take all the ones from the outside. You’re right, I can’t defend that, and I won’t try. But, Lynx, that was the Brass. They’re…” He swallowed hard. “They’re different. You know that. The groundhogs aren’t like that. They’ll treat you well.” Lynx shook his head. Why couldn’t Rabbit see that it didn’t matter? “Mother, Lynx.” A muscle in Rabbit’s jaw tightened. Relaxed. “I know you’re angry, and I don’t guess I can blame you. And…and I know what you’re thinking of right now.” I know you’re plotting escape, Rabbit’s dark eyes seemed to say. Lynx kept quiet. They both knew it. There was no need to say so. Clamping a hand onto the back of Lynx’s neck, Rabbit pulled him close and planted a hard, swift kiss on his lips. “I know,” Rabbit whispered against Lynx’s mouth. “And I’m sorry. I wish things were different. But they’re not. You’re here. Maryanne’s a good owner. You’ll have a warm, comfortable place to sleep, and enough food and water. Not everyone has that here, not even all the groundhogs. She takes good care of her slaves. And the work isn’t exciting, but it’s important to the city. If we don’t do our jobs, the city doesn’t have enough food.” Rabbit drew back, a cautious smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “So, you see, you’ll be as important here as you ever were in Carwin.” Stunned, Lynx gaped at his Brother. Rabbit couldn’t actually think such a thing would matter to him, could he? The spark of hope in his eyes said he did. He’s not my Brother anymore. The thought ripped at Lynx’s heart, left him raw and bleeding inside, but he couldn’t deny the truth of it. If Rabbit had truly accepted his slavery this completely, he was no longer Pack. Furious and gutted, Lynx dropped Rabbit’s hand and pushed him away. “How can that matter—how can any of it matter—if I’m not free? If we’re not free?”

Rabbit blinked, his expression surprised, which made Lynx even angrier, because how could a Pack Brother’s need for freedom surprise him? Lynx fought back the urge to throw Rabbit to the cold stone, kiss him and beat him bloody and suck at his most sensitive spots until he arched off the ground in agonized pleasure. Great Mother, it took all his control not to do it, but this man was no longer his Rabbit, and he didn’t feel safe anymore. “We’re here now. There’s no changing it.” No escape, said the words behind the ones Rabbit spoke out loud. “If you can’t change a thing, where’s the wrong in accepting it?” It sounded sensible. But some things a man just couldn’t accept. This was one of them. Lynx shook his head. “Maybe you can accept being a slave. But I can’t. I never will. And I can’t believe my Brother, my Rabbit, has been reduced to this. You aren’t the man I thought I knew.” Devastation slid through Rabbit’s eyes in the space of heartbeat and was gone, replaced by a blank coldness Lynx had never seen in Rabbit before. With a single curt nod, he turned and started walking toward the farm again. “We should get going. I have a lot to show you at the farm before lights out. You’ll be expected to start working at lights up tomorrow.” Lynx followed, his roiling emotions under tight control. He and Rabbit walked in silence for exactly one hundred and sixty-three paces before Rabbit began talking in a toneless voice about what Lynx should expect once they reached the farm. The information was important, so Lynx tried to listen, but it wasn’t easy. All he could think of was how he’d lost his Rabbit even more completely than he’d thought. How he’d have to find a way to escape without Rabbit’s help. And how he still couldn’t bring himself to leave Rabbit behind. Not even if he wanted to stay.

Chapter Five Lynx gave up on counting paces well before they reached their destination. The tunnel curved to the left, but didn’t branch. The faint light leaking from either end revealed not so much as a crack in the walls. To get out, a person would have to either travel back down the tunnel to the main cavern or find an exit through the farm. He slipped a finger beneath his collar under pretext of scratching and carefully tested the laces. They held firm. Lynx refused to let it bother him. He had no intention of giving up on figuring out how to get out of his collar, even if the Mother-damned thing was no more than a symbol. In the meantime, he could take a look around the walls of the farm’s cavern while Rabbit showed him around and told him his duties. His superior sight would pick out openings so small they might hide in the natural shadows of the cave where ordinary eyes wouldn’t see them. Of course, if a passageway to the surface existed in the farm cavern, he had to assume Maryanne knew about it. Which brought him back to the question he’d asked Henry in the pens. So far, he’d seen nothing to physically hold the slaves here, yet they didn’t run. Which meant his and Rabbit’s escape hinged on either finding an exit tunnel no one here knew about, or taking down an unknown number of Brass no doubt guarding the main entrance. Two Pack, weaponless, against multiple armed Brass on their home ground. Lynx hoped he could find another exit. Eventually, the faint glow grew stronger from the direction of the farm. Not for the first time, Lynx wondered what made the light. It didn’t look like firelight, and he hadn’t seen a single torch since he’d arrived here. Curiosity overcame his anger with Rabbit. “Where does the light come from?” Rabbit gave him a look churning beneath the surface with mingled hurt, resentment and hope. “They get power from the earth.”

Lynx’s eyes went wide. “The Great Mother? But they don’t even follow Her!” He frowned. “How does power make light?” It made no sense. Mother Rose received her power to rule directly from the Great Mother, yet she couldn’t create light. A wistful smile curved Rabbit’s lips. “Not that kind of power. It means…” He tilted his head sideways and narrowed his eyes, as if searching for the right words. “Energy, I guess. The energy to make something work. The lights and a few other things run on power—energy—from deep under the ground. They call it geothermal energy. They take the earth’s heat and turn it into steam to run their lights and machines.” Lynx tried to picture how that would work and couldn’t. “I don’t understand.” “I don’t either, to tell the truth. But it doesn’t matter. They have machines that do all the work. Slaves don’t handle those machines. Only certain groundhogs do. We don’t have to worry about those things.” Something in Rabbit’s voice raised the hairs on the back of Lynx’s neck. As if Rabbit himself only half believed what he was saying. Lynx didn’t like it at all. It made him wonder just what in the Mother’s name he’d been dragged into when he was brought here. Silence fell once more. The glow ahead continued to grow stronger. A few minutes later, the tunnel took a shallow curve to the right and ended in a wide archway. Beyond the arch stretched a tremendous cavern with a low ceiling and a smooth floor. A canvas-roofed stone house at least three times the size of the huts lining the road to the slave pens crouched near the left-hand wall of the cave, not far from the entrance. Lynx didn’t spare much thought for the house, because the farm riveted his attention. He hadn’t known what to expect. Queen City must have a water supply, otherwise the people here couldn’t survive. But no matter how hard he tried, he hadn’t been able to puzzle out how they grew plants underground without soil or sunlight.

The reality exceeded anything he’d imagined. Fields of wheat stretched ahead and to Lynx’s right all the way to the curve of the cavern wall far away. At least three hundred and fifty paces in either direction, he guessed. The plants themselves looked like ordinary wheat stalks grown about half the usual height. The resemblance to anything ordinary ended there, though. Finely woven nets hung from frames made of the things that looked like large river reeds. The nets held the plants around the stalks and looped beneath them to cradle their compact roots. White mist swirled inside the netting, surrounding the roots of each plant. Light almost bright enough to rival the sun poured from rows of round metal devices overhead. Lynx stared, awestruck, as Rabbit led him into the endless fields, between the rows of hanging plants growing close together. “Great Mother. How does this work? How do they grow?” He reached a hand toward one of the net-encased roots but stopped short of touching it, not wanting to disturb the mist for fear of harming the plants. “Does this mist feed them somehow?” A wide smile spread over Rabbit’s face. “Yes. It’s water vapor full of all the nutrients the wheat needs to grow. The farms growing other crops use a mixture with the particular nutrients needed to grow their crops.” “That’s amazing.” Leaning down with his hands on his knees, Lynx peered in fascination at one plant, as if he could see the water and nutrients being absorbed through the dense, compact root cluster. “It is, isn’t it?” Rabbit ran his fingertips gently over the gossamer-fine netting. “This method is called hydroponics. It’s something they had in the old world, before the Change. The first settlers of Queen City just took the original concept a few steps further. They worked out how to infuse water vapor with nutrients for plants, then invented this special netting to hold it around the plant’s roots. The machines they built power the whole thing.” Lynx straightened up and turned in a slow circle. He’d never thought to see a piece of the lost past come alive. Yet here it was, feeding an entire city he hadn’t known existed a day ago. He shook his head. “How did you learn all this?”

Somehow, Lynx doubted all slaves—at least the captured ones—learned as much Queen City history as Rabbit had. Rabbit gave him an indecipherable look. “I keep telling you, these people aren’t like their leaders. They’re not suspicious or cautious. They want to talk. I listen, and I learn. That’s all.” It made sense. Rabbit had always had a knack for making people want to talk to him. And if he was a free citizen of this city, maybe that would’ve made everything all right. But he wasn’t. Neither of them were. In this city, they were property to be bought and sold. Less than human, however hard Rabbit tried to convince himself otherwise, and the completeness of Rabbit’s assimilation into his oppressors’ society filled Lynx with a soul-deep sorrow. Unable to look his Brother—not my Brother anymore—in the eye, Lynx turned away and inspected the frameworks holding the netting. “What are these reed things called?” “That’s bamboo. Another farm grows them. The ancients made this particular strain to grow underground.” Rabbit’s footsteps padded close enough behind Lynx for him to feel the heat of Rabbit’s body. But Rabbit had always been able to read Lynx well, and he didn’t touch him. “Let’s go inside and get your shoes, then I’ll show you your duties.” Great Mother, Rabbit was so close, and Lynx wanted him. Still loved him, in spite of everything. He swallowed. “Shoes can wait. Just show me what I need to know.” Rabbit let out a faint sigh. “All right. We’ll start in this section, since we’re already here.” Lynx followed Rabbit along the row between the surreal miniature wheat stalks, listening to Rabbit’s instructions and wondering how to get him back from the clutches of this city and its people. He wouldn’t let himself believe Rabbit might be lost to him forever.

Lynx’s duties were simple enough. The farm was divided into sections according to where the plants fell in their growth cycle. The machines turning the huge lights on and off and cycling the nutrient-packed water vapor ran themselves. The slaves only had to walk the rows and monitor the machines of their assigned section to be sure everything ran smoothly, fix any problems that came up and harvest plants or set out new ones as needed. In fact, farm work here promised to be not just easy, but unbearably dull. Farming aboveground seemed exciting by comparison. Lynx couldn’t understand how a mind as quick and inquisitive as Rabbit’s had survived such work for seven long, tedious years. As they walked the suspended rows of plants, Lynx spotted other people at a distance. Two men and a woman, tending the different sections of the fields. “Who are they? Other slaves?” “Yes. You’ll meet them shortly, at the evening meal.” Rabbit cut his gaze sideways, not quite meeting Lynx’s. “Lynx, listen—” A loud clanging cut off whatever Rabbit started to say. Lynx looked around, startled. “What’s that?” “The dinner bell.” Rabbit started toward the sound and motioned Lynx to follow. “Come on. You’ll want to eat, even if you’re not hungry. Food’s carefully rationed here, as you might imagine. Besides, you’ll need to meet everyone.” Lynx didn’t look forward to meeting the other slaves—or the woman who’d bought him as if he were nothing more than an animal—but he couldn’t avoid it. Resigned, he trailed behind Rabbit. Part of him was grateful he couldn’t see Rabbit’s face. He wouldn’t change anything he’d said even if he could, but he’d loved Rabbit most of his life and he hated being responsible for the sadness in those eyes.

As they emerged from the fields, Lynx spotted a long, low stone structure behind and to the left of the house. The building had no roof, but its walls rose higher than the house’s. It reminded Lynx of a stable. He wasn’t surprised when Rabbit led him through the narrow doorway of the building. “These are the slave quarters.” Crossing the few paces to the other side of the small, bare room, Rabbit opened a battered metal cabinet. Clothing, blankets and straw mats covered the upper shelves in neatly folded stacks. The lower shelf held several pairs of soft-soled, sturdy canvas shoes identical to the ones Rabbit wore. Rabbit picked up a pair and handed them to Lynx. “Here. These should fit you.” Lynx took the shoes and slipped them on. They were surprisingly comfortable. He looked around. The building had no windows, but the lack of a roof let in plenty of light from outside. A low arch to the right of the outside door led to a cramped hallway. Canvas curtains hung at intervals along the inside wall. Sleeping rooms, Lynx assumed. Small ones, judging from the space between curtains. He counted seven of them. More than enough for each slave to have separate sleeping quarters. Lynx had never in his life slept alone. Even before joining the Pack as a boy, he remembered sharing a pallet on the floor with his two older sisters. The thought of sleeping by himself made him feel lonely. The expression on Rabbit’s face said he knew what Lynx was thinking, but he said nothing. “Come on. We all eat at the house.” Surprised, Lynx followed Rabbit outside and toward Maryanne’s home. “She eats with her slaves?” “I told you these people don’t see us as property.” Rabbit didn’t look at Lynx, and his voice gave away nothing. Lynx didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t start the same fruitless argument all over again, so he said nothing. They crossed the short distance between the slave quarters and the house in a charged silence.

When they walked through the back door of the dwelling, the three others Lynx had seen in the field were already crowding around a long, sturdy wooden table covered with scratches and dents. It looked as old as the city itself. Simple ovenfired clay bowls filled with grains, vegetables and fresh fruit sat in the middle of the table. A tiny wraith of a woman bustled around, setting out smooth wooden plates and spoons. She spared Lynx a brisk nod as she set the last plate down and hurried to the counter to pick up a pitcher of water. The woman Lynx had seen earlier in the field took clay mugs two by two from a row of hooks on the wall and set one beside each plate. Before Lynx could wonder what he ought to do or say, a tall woman with short, untidy brown hair, a hard face and the hands of someone who’d done manual labor all her life strode in through a doorway opposite the one through which Lynx and Rabbit had entered. She smiled, revealing a missing tooth and a landscape of tiny wrinkles around her eyes and mouth that made Lynx think she must smile a lot. “Well. Good to see you up and around.” Crossing the room with a few long strides, she studied Lynx with a keen eye. “What’s your name, kid?” “Lynx. Uh, ma’am.” Lynx held still with an effort and kept his eyes focused straight ahead when Maryanne—because who else could it be?—began walking a slow circle around him. “Hmm. You’re a fine young man. Good and strong. Healthy. Hard to know for sure when you’re lookin’ at a body slung over a Brass shoulder, but I’ve got to where I can tell.” She stopped in front of Lynx again, hands on her hips and her smile wider than ever. “I think your new name should be Liam. That was my uncle’s name. It fits you. Welcome to the family.” She clapped Lynx on the shoulder, went to the table and seated herself at the head. “What’s everybody waitin’ for? Let’s eat.” Lynx sat between Rabbit and the girl who’d set the table. He kept his gaze fixed on his plate while the food and water were passed around so Rabbit and Maryanne wouldn’t see the anger he couldn’t hide.

The food was bland but fresh and skillfully prepared. Lynx ate a helping of everything, in spite of his lack of appetite. As they ate, Rabbit introduced him to the rest of the slaves—Kathy, who cooked and took care of the house, and the field workers, Michael, Samuel and Lisa. All four had the pale skin and thin, almost undernourished build Lynx had already come to associate with Queen City natives. He supposed that explained why they laughed and chattered as if everything was fine. Because for them, it was. After dinner, Maryanne motioned Rabbit into a far corner of the room, where the two put their heads together and talked with serious expressions on their faces. Lisa, Michael and Samuel stood and filed out the back door. Kathy stacked the dishes into a basket and followed the others outside. Lynx glanced at Rabbit, but he didn’t look up or acknowledge Lynx’s presence. Unsure of what to do, Lynx trailed after the others. Samuel and Lisa strolled hand in hand toward the slave quarters. Michael walked beside them. The three of them talked quietly as they went. About fifteen paces away, Kathy lifted the plates, bowls, mugs and spoons from the basket and placed them in a large metal trough connected to two metal tubes—one running into it and one running out the bottom into a long, shallow container made of what looked like fired clay. Curious, Lynx moved closer to get a better look. The container on the ground obviously collected the used water from the trough, but what then? What other purpose did the water serve? He started toward Kathy, intent on asking. Surely she wouldn’t mind answering an innocent question from an outsider. He’d only gotten a few steps when the back door opened and Rabbit called to him. “Liam, wait!” Lynx stopped and turned more from sheer shock than anything else. He stared at Rabbit’s strained smile and the crease between his troubled eyes. Lynx knew he’d

never be able to answer to a name not his own. He couldn’t understand how Rabbit did it. How he’d let these people strip him of everything, right down to his name, and reshape him into something almost unrecognizable. Almost. Lynx thought maybe the sparks of his Brother that shone through here and there made the change in him even harder to bear. When he reached Lynx’s side, Rabbit took his arm and steered him toward the slave quarters. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to be called by that name. But there’s no choice when we’re around other people. We won’t use those names when it’s just us, though.” He slid his hand downward to weave their fingers together. “If there still is an us.” Lynx heard the hope in Rabbit’s voice and wanted nothing more than to say yes. But he no longer knew if that was true or not, and he couldn’t lie to Rabbit. No matter how much of a stranger he’d become. The solid grip of Rabbit’s hand in his felt too good for Lynx to let go, though. Maybe it was unfair of him to cling to Rabbit, when he knew he couldn’t quietly submit to the life of a slave the way Rabbit wanted him to, but with the repeated shocks of this day and the strangeness all around him, he desperately needed the familiarity of Rabbit’s touch. Rabbit’s smile was hesitant. Fragile. He caressed the back of Lynx’s hand with his thumb. Inside the slave quarters, he stopped, his hand still linked with Lynx’s, and faced him with a sudden determination in his eyes. “Sleep with me tonight.” Fear, elation and a longing so intense it took his breath lodged in a hot ball at the back of Lynx’s throat. Mother, he didn’t want to sleep alone. Especially not here. The thought of being with Rabbit again terrified him, for reasons he didn’t understand, but… Closing his eyes, he gripped Rabbit’s hand harder. “Yes.”

Rabbit made a soft sound. His free hand slid across Lynx’s cheek, beneath his hair, cupping his skull to angle his head just like in the old days. Lynx lifted his face, lips parting instinctively for Rabbit’s kiss. He let go of Rabbit’s hand, slipped both arms around him, groaned deep in his chest when Rabbit ran a palm over his ass. The years fell away with every stroke of Rabbit’s tongue against his, every warm, sure slide of Rabbit’s hands up his back or around the angle of his jaw. Whatever else happened, whatever else they were or were not to each other now, this, at least, hadn’t changed. Lynx was grateful for that. He had no idea how long they stood there, lost in each other, when the door opened. They both jumped. Lynx looked around, feeling dazed. Kathy stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “Jesus. If you’re gonna fuck, keep it down, huh? Some of us wanna get some sleep.” She wandered off, muttering about being surrounded by goddamn couples. Lynx watched her with a frown. “More about this god thing.” Rabbit laughed. “Never mind her. She and Michael tried it for a while, but it didn’t work out. They both get a little touchy about that sometimes.” Smiling, he took Lynx’s hand. “Come on.” Lynx let Rabbit lead him into the hallway. They went to the end of the hall first, through a doorway and into a room with a shelf containing a covered water pitcher and a bar of soap, and a long metal trough draining into a clay one, much like Kathy’s dishwashing assembly outside. A row of jars and odd metal pans sat on a second shelf. Urine filled two of the jars. Knowing that much, Lynx could guess what the pans were for. He and Rabbit both made use of a jar, then washed their faces and hands. That done, Lynx followed Rabbit to the other end of the hall and through the last curtain, the one right next to the entry room. Lynx looked around while Rabbit hooked the curtain shut behind them. The little room was simple, clean and surprisingly homey. Plain off-white canvas hung over the stone walls. A pallet covered with simple cotton sheets and a blanket lay in the left-hand corner opposite the door. A low, flat rock served as a table in the right-hand corner. In

the middle of the gray stone floor lay an oval braided rug. A glass jar with an obviously much-used pale gold candle in it sat on the rock table, a pair of flints beside it. Curious, Lynx watched Rabbit move to the table to light the candle. “Where did you get beeswax?” “They have honeybees here bred to live underground. It’s a strain of bee created somewhere in the first couple of generations of Queen City settlement.” Lynx shook his head. “They can’t create life.” A horrible thought struck him. He felt his eyes go wide. “Can they?” “No, of course not. They simply…” Rabbit waved a hand in the air as if looking for the right words. “Encouraged the bees to breed in a certain way, to develop certain traits and lose other ones. At least, that’s how it was explained to me. I’m not sure I completely understand it. I’m told it’s similar to how they develop different strains of plants.” Closing the distance between them, Rabbit laid his hands on Lynx’s shoulders. “Do you really want to talk about that right now?” At that moment, the brightness from outside vanished as suddenly as if it were Rabbit’s small flame in the corner being snuffed out. Lights out, Lynx guessed. In the dim candle glow, the curve of Rabbit’s mouth was achingly beautiful. His eyes shone with the same desire driving Lynx’s heartbeat into a hard gallop. “No.” Lynx’s voice emerged in a rough whisper. He stepped closer, close enough to press his body against Rabbit’s. “I don’t want to talk.” An expression almost like pain came over Rabbit’s face, yet his smile could’ve lit the whole world. He cupped Lynx’s face in both hands and stared into his eyes, still smiling, thumbs caressing the corners of Lynx’s mouth. He didn’t say a word, but Lynx read his whole heart in his wide open eyes and the tilt of his lips. Unable to face the troubled, hopeful gaze directly, Lynx threaded his fingers into Rabbit’s hair and kissed him. Before, they’d been caught up in the simple joy of kissing one another again after such a long time apart. Now, their bodies remembered the desire they’d once

shared. The way a touch, a kiss, even a lingering look could bring the fire blazing to life between them. Lynx moaned and rutted against the thigh Rabbit had shoved between his legs. He wormed a hand between them, rubbed his palm on the hard length of Rabbit’s cock and savored the way Rabbit gasped and shuddered in response. Rabbit broke the kiss to pull Lynx’s shirt over his head. It fell to the ground in a heap. Together, they peeled off Rabbit’s shirt. Lynx ran shaking hands over Rabbit’s bare skin. His chest and belly bore a few new scars. Small ones, barely noticeable among the larger, older ones Lynx already knew by heart. Lynx bent and kissed the new, crooked silver line across Rabbit’s collarbone, then leaned in to tongue the jagged pink scar on Rabbit’s neck where a nomad’s knife had cut him years before his disappearance. That wound had almost killed him. And now the same people who’d inflicted it owned him. Owned them both. Great Mother, Lynx didn’t want to think about it. Not now. Angry, hungry, desperate for the one touch he’d thought for so long that he’d never feel again, Lynx curled his fingers around Rabbit’s cock and squeezed. He could feel Rabbit’s heat through the bunched fabric of the thin pants. Inflamed by Rabbit’s low groan, Lynx sucked at the spot just above Rabbit’s scar that always made him shiver. Rabbit wedged both hands between their bodies, untied the string holding up Lynx’s pants and then his own, knocking Lynx’s hand out of the way in his haste. He turned his head. Lynx moved by instinct, meeting Rabbit in a fierce openmouthed kiss. He shoved Rabbit’s pants down. They fell to the floor with an unexpected clunk. It reminded Lynx of the times long, long ago, in the Pack training camp, when Rabbit would steal bottles of oil from the kitchens and talk Lynx into doing things they weren’t supposed to be doing yet. Lynx smiled against Rabbit’s mouth. “I hope you didn’t get caught with that.”

Rabbit chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.” Something in Rabbit’s voice sounded off. At that moment, though, Lynx didn’t care. He could delve into this latest strangeness another time. Right now, all he wanted was to forget everything that had happened for a little while and feel Rabbit inside him again. Lynx grabbed Rabbit’s ass in both hands. Dug his fingers into the meat of the muscles there, thinner than he remembered but no less firm. His knees buckled when Rabbit closed a warm hand around his prick. Only Rabbit’s arm around his waist kept him upright. A helpless whimper escaped his lips. Rabbit glanced down at the pants puddled around Lynx’s ankles. “Take them off.” Lynx kicked free of the pants and his shoes, hanging on to Rabbit because his heart raced fast enough to make the room spin. He wondered how Rabbit managed to finish undressing without falling down, then noticed Rabbit clung to him with as much force as he did to Rabbit. That small fact made everything better somehow. Naked, Rabbit bent and fished the little glass bottle of oil out of the rear pocket of his pants, then backed toward the pallet in the corner with Lynx in his arms. Lynx thanked the Mother that it was only a few paces, because he didn’t think he could make it any farther. Rabbit sank onto the bed, pulling Lynx on top of him. Setting the oil on the floor beside them, he kissed Lynx again, one hand on the back of his neck and the other tracing the crease of his ass. Lynx planted both elbows on the pallet and rocked his hips. Rabbit’s cock drove hard into his own. Rabbit’s back arched. “Oh, Mother.” He groped for the oil. Nothing more needed to be said. Pushing back to sit on Rabbit’s thighs, Lynx picked up the bottle, poured oil into his palm, set the bottle down again and slicked the length of Rabbit’s prick with slow strokes. Rabbit shook from head to toe, his hands grasping at Lynx’s legs and his throat working. Tiny noises bled from his open mouth.

He acted like a man who hadn’t been touched in a very long time. Lynx wondered about that, but not enough to distract him for more than a moment. He rose to his knees, intent on impaling himself on Rabbit’s cock. Rabbit stopped him by sitting up. He smiled at Lynx’s impatient growl. “Lie back, Wildcat.” Lynx’s heart lurched. Blinking against the sting behind his eyelids, he let Rabbit lower him to the pallet. The straw crinkled beneath him. It smelled fresh and sweet. He breathed deeper and caught the musky male scent of Rabbit’s skin, spiced with sweat and arousal. Mother, he smelled good. Lynx pulled him closer. Buried his face in Rabbit’s neck to gather as much of his scent as possible. Even the smell and texture of the collar seemed exciting right now. He nuzzled at the edge of it, licked the dampness from Rabbit’s skin beneath it. He refused to think about what it represented. Not right now. Rabbit urged Lynx’s legs apart with a hand on his knee. Lynx watched Rabbit coat his fingers with oil, watched the slippery hand vanish between his thighs. Two fingers slid inside him, heading straight for the spot that made him see stars, and he barely stifled a cry. He lifted one leg up to his chest to give Rabbit more room to play. The stutter in Rabbit’s breath spoke volumes. He pumped his fingers in and out. Twisting, rubbing his thumb around the rim, spreading the oil. Preparing Lynx with the same sure, gentle skill he remembered from countless nights and mornings and stolen moments together back in Carwin. Fighting the urge to shut his eyes and simply feel, Lynx drank in the sight of Rabbit propped on one elbow between his splayed legs. Rabbit’s eyes were dark and hooded, his cheeks pink and his mouth kiss-swollen. The muscles of his upper arm bunched and relaxed as his fingers delved inside Lynx. His oiled cock gleamed in the candlelight, the foreskin pulled back to reveal the wide, flushed head.

Lynx wanted him. Wanted Rabbit to lift his legs, spread him open and push into him, fuck him slow and deep and without mercy, just like he used to. Fill his heart and soul as well as his body once again. He can’t. Not anymore. We’re beyond that now. Something very like a sob emerged from Lynx before he could stop it. “Rabbit.” The word held more than a simple plea for sex. It echoed with the yearning for times past. Times that would never come again. Rabbit had to know it, even if he didn’t understand all the layers of it any more than Lynx himself did. But he said nothing. Lynx was glad of it. Whatever came later, however they eventually healed this rift between them—if they ever did—he needed the comfort of being with Rabbit right now. Looking into Rabbit’s eyes, he thought they both did. Rabbit’s lips curled into the sweet, mischievous smile Lynx remembered. Pulling his fingers from Lynx’s body, Rabbit took his own cock in hand, rolled into a better position and lined up the head of his prick with Lynx’s hole. His gaze held Lynx’s as he penetrated him with a single swift thrust. Lynx let loose a low cry. He clutched Rabbit to him with arms and legs, heels braced on Rabbit’s back. “Oh, Mother.” Rabbit’s eyelids fluttered closed. Opened again. He lowered himself to his elbows. Kissed Lynx’s forehead, his nose, his chin. “You feel so good, Wildcat. So good.” “Rabbit.” Lynx wound a hand into Rabbit’s hair, angled his head sideways and sank teeth into his neck. He bit just hard enough to tear a harsh sound from Rabbit’s throat, then let go and soothed the reddening mark with his tongue. “Fuck me.” A tremor ran down Rabbit’s spine. He gripped Lynx’s shoulders and pounded into him. Lynx hung on, panting into Rabbit’s neck. Great Mother, he’d missed this. Missed the way Rabbit moved inside him, the particular way Rabbit angled his

thrusts to hit that special spot every time, the way Rabbit grasped his cock and tried to stroke in rhythm with his thrusts but always failed because he got caught up in fucking Lynx. Not that Lynx had ever minded. Rabbit’s hand on his prick, Rabbit’s cock inside him, Rabbit’s low, broken whispers in his ear—that was all he’d ever needed. No one else had ever made him feel like this, like he could reach out and touch the sky if he wanted to. Only Rabbit. Rabbit’s breath hitched against Lynx’s cheek. “Oh. Lynx.” The sound of his own name spoken like a plea, a sure sign of Rabbit’s impending orgasm, made Lynx’s heart pound. Folding his left leg as close to his chest as possible, Lynx turned Rabbit’s head until he could capture his mouth in a kiss. Rabbit groaned. His fingers spasmed around Lynx’s cock. Lynx came with a muffled cry, hips lifting off the bed and his heel pressing into Rabbit’s back to force him in deeper, feel more of the hard, sweet burn of Rabbit’s prick stretching him. Through the white haze of his climax, Lynx felt Rabbit ram into him one, two, three, four more times, then go still, his hips flush with Lynx’s ass. Rabbit’s lips moved against Lynx’s, forming words Lynx couldn’t hear but knew anyway. Mine. Love you. The silent almost-whisper thrummed through Lynx’s bones like a shout. His chest constricted. He kissed Rabbit’s slack lips, raked his fingers through Rabbit’s hair, smoothed a hand down his trembling back. I love you so much, Rabbit. So much. He didn’t speak out loud, but he knew Rabbit understood. They lay tangled together for several minutes, sharing an unhurried kiss. Eventually, Rabbit slid his softened cock out of Lynx’s body and rolled to the side, lifting himself up enough to let Lynx pull his leg free. Lynx curled into Rabbit’s embrace with a contented sigh, his head pillowed on Rabbit’s chest. Rabbit’s heartbeat galloped in his ear. In spite of everything, Lynx felt himself drifting

toward sleep, Rabbit’s hand stroking his hair as if seven years hadn’t passed since they’d last lain together. One thing nagged at him, though. Prodded at his mind enough to keep him from resting. He dragged his eyelids open, propped himself up on one elbow and gazed into Rabbit’s flushed, sated face. Rabbit’s eyes opened. His gaze locked with Lynx’s, solemn and sad, as if he knew what Lynx was about to ask. Lynx ran his thumb over Rabbit’s lips. So soft. “How did this happen, Rabbit?” Just like always, Rabbit saw through Lynx’s difficulty expressing himself well enough to know he wasn’t talking about his own situation. “You know how I was in those days. Always too curious for my own good. There was one of those TV things from the old world in a building next to the one we were watching.” A smile curved Rabbit’s mouth. Wistful. Almost bitter. So unlike the Rabbit of days gone by it made Lynx’s heart ache. “I’d never seen one except in books. I wanted a closer look, so I went inside. Just barely in the door. I thought there would be no harm in it. But I was wrong. Obviously.” Yes, obviously. Lynx wanted to shake Rabbit, hit him and scream at him for making all his Brothers—especially me, what about me?—think he was dead. All for a look at a Mother-damned old-world gadget. It was certainly something the Rabbit Lynx had once known would have done. Lynx laughed, quiet and humorless. “Great Mother, Rabbit. I’d say you deserve what you got, but I can’t wish seven years of slavery on anyone, for any reason. And we’ve needed you in the Pack.” He searched Rabbit’s eyes, looking for something he couldn’t name. “I’ve needed you.” Rabbit’s expression went blank, leaving Lynx feeling as if he’d been left outside a closed and locked door. “I know. And I’m truly sorry. More than you’ll ever know. And I’ve already told you I was very angry at first.” He laid a hand on Lynx’s cheek. “But, Lynx. My Brother. I believe this happened to me for a reason. The Mother sent me here for a reason. Maybe to help these people. Maybe just to learn patience and tolerance. I don’t know. But I do know that my being here is no

accident. It can’t be. I just have to be still, to watch and listen, and learn what the Mother wants from me.” He swallowed. Licked his lips. “She’ll show me. One day.” Listening to Rabbit, watching him speak, Lynx saw the fire of conviction overtake the uncertainty in Rabbit’s face and knew nothing could turn him from what he’d come to believe. Maybe he was right, for all Lynx knew. Who could tell? But Lynx’s gut told him otherwise. Warned him that Rabbit spoke not the Mother’s truth, but his own fantasy, built by his mind to sustain him after he’d otherwise lost hope. That’s no longer the case. I’m here now. Together, we can get out of this. Since this wasn’t the time for such declarations, Lynx merely leaned down and pressed a kiss to Rabbit’s lips. “Good night, Rabbit.” “Wait, aren’t you going to tell me how you got caught?” Rabbit touched Lynx’s cheek. “I know it doesn’t really matter now. But I’d like to know, if you’re willing to tell me.” Lynx studied Rabbit’s face. He saw nothing there but interest and concern. He smiled. “There were too many of them and not enough of us. It was either let myself be caught, or give away my Brothers and let them be killed. I chose to be caught.” “My Wildcat.” Rabbit stroked his hand down Lynx’s neck and along his jaw. “You were always so brave. I know the Pack needs you. I’m sorry.” Lynx said nothing about his intention for both of them to return to their Pack. Maybe Rabbit wouldn’t try to stop him from escaping, but he didn’t care to take the chance. A faint smile curved Rabbit’s lips. “Good night, Lynx.” “Good night.”

Rabbit gathered Lynx into his arms once more. Lynx went gladly, tucking his head beneath Rabbit’s chin and his arm around Rabbit’s middle. He shut his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

Chapter Six Lynx was beginning the morning wheat harvest when Rabbit approached him looking unusually serious. Worried, Lynx set his basket on the ground. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” Rabbit ran his fingertips over a nearby stalk of wheat. He didn’t look at Lynx. “Maryanne wants to take you to the market today.” Lynx stared at Rabbit, surprised. “What?” “She’s going to the market today. She told me she wanted to take you with her. She wants you to learn how to trade, where to go for the goods we need here, all those sorts of things.” Rabbit shrugged, casual, but his expression was troubled. “You can say no if you think you’re not ready. But it would probably be a good idea to do it.” Great Mother. Lynx didn’t know what to say, or what to think. For twelve days, he’d spent his time learning how to plant, grow and harvest wheat in this strange system of mesh, mist and machines. It was surprisingly simple and gave him a great deal of time to think. To notice. To plot how to get out of Queen City. The problem was, he hadn’t found so much as a crack in the wall of the farm’s cavern. Which meant he’d need to find a way to explore beyond it before he could form more than the most nebulous escape plans. Not only the geography of the cave system and the city, but the mindset of the people here. He’d already determined that he’d never get away without having to get past someone. Townspeople or other slaves, if he was lucky. Brass guards if he wasn’t. He liked the other slaves here in spite of himself. They were simple, practical people, content with their lot in life and utterly guileless. If the groundhogs and the rest of the Queen City slaves were the same, he’d rather earn his freedom in battle with the Brass. At least it was honest. Spending his days on the farm, though, he had no idea what the rest of the city was like. The chance to accompany Maryanne on a trip to the market to trade

their crop for other necessary goods felt like a gift straight from the Mother. As far as he could tell from his limited interaction with Maryanne at meals—the only times he’d seen her thus far—she was a fair and mostly hands-off mistress, but she had a sharp mind and didn’t miss much when it came to her farm and her people. He would have to be careful today. Lynx nodded. “I’d like that. I haven’t seen anything but this farm so far. I’d love the chance to see more of the city.” Rabbit’s eyes narrowed. Lynx kept his face blank, his smile bland and pleasant. He still hoped to confide in Rabbit eventually. For now, however, the last thing he needed was for Rabbit to figure out his true motives in wanting to go with Maryanne today. He walked a fine line, because Rabbit would never believe him if he pretended enthusiasm for the work itself. The muscles in Rabbit’s jaw tightened. Relaxed. “All right. I’ll let Maryanne know. She’ll blow the whistle for you when she’s ready to go.” Lynx scrunched his nose. In the short time he’d been here, he’d learned to hate the Mother-damned wooden whistle hanging on a post on the edge of the fields. He understood the usefulness of it, since its shrill noise carried farther than a voice could. But he despised being called by a series of five blasts on that thing rather than by a human being. At least they all used it to call one another from a distance, rather than Maryanne being the only one. He bent to pick up his basket. “I’ll be ready. Thank you.” With a quick smile for Rabbit—who still studied him as if he were an unusual insect—Lynx went back to his work. Rabbit didn’t move. Not knowing what else to do, Lynx ignored him. Things hadn’t been easy between them. Everything had changed since their days together in the Pack. Only at night in their tiny candlelit room did Lynx glimpse the Brother he’d lost. It wasn’t enough, and Mother, it hurt, but it was all he had now, so he took it and did his best not to feel the tension between them the rest of the time.

When Rabbit moved closer, slid an arm around his back and nuzzled his cheek, he nearly dropped his basket. Pulse pounding in his skull, he turned toward Rabbit. Their mouths brushed. Rabbit’s breath ran out in a sigh against Lynx’s lips. He kissed Lynx, soft and gentle, then pulled away. “I should go. I have duties.” Lynx looked at Rabbit. The corners of his mouth turned down, and his eyes were sad. Using his arm to balance his basket on one hip, Lynx touched Rabbit’s cheek. Stroked his thumb over Rabbit’s lower lip. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. This simple touch had always been enough to convey love and comfort between them in times past. Rabbit would remember. A faint smile curved Rabbit’s mouth. Taking Lynx’s hand, he kissed his palm, a silent thank you, then turned and walked away. Lynx watched, throat tight and chest hollow, until Rabbit vanished from sight.

As it turned out, Queen City’s marketplace wasn’t much different from Carwin’s. The noise, the crowds, the food, cloth, crafts and other merchandise piled in baskets and on tables—it all felt familiar enough to make Lynx homesick. The only things missing were the animals. Chickens, pigs and especially goats, their sharp scent and high-pitched bleats cutting through the sun-warmed air. The sun. Great Mother, but Lynx missed the sun. He missed blue sky, wind and rain. Heat and cold and the smell of a storm rolling in on a summer breeze. Machines somehow pulled in fresh air from outside, so the atmosphere down here wasn’t stale, exactly. But it wasn’t alive either. Maryanne prodded his arm. “Okay. We’re gonna go talk to Evie over there.” She pointed to a short redheaded woman waving a small, narrow potato above her head and calling out the virtues of her wares to one and all. Several large baskets full to the brim of potatoes sat at her feet. “We’ll want to get two large baskets. Potatoes’re good solid food, and they keep for a while.” Maryanne clapped him on the shoulder. “You got that cart okay?”

He shot a sidelong look at Samuel, who’d been eyeing him the whole trip as if afraid he couldn’t handle the burden. Inwardly laughing at himself for wanting to prove his strength to someone he’d only known a few days, Lynx nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He lifted the handles of the small wooden cart and tucked them against his sides. Maryanne grinned. “All right, boys. Let’s go.” She threaded her way through the press of people toward the woman with the potatoes. Lynx followed, pulling the cart. It already held two bolts of cloth as well as baskets of apricots, yellow tomatoes, spinach, green beans and peas. Samuel trudged along behind, pulling a second cart with their dwindling load of wheat as well as baskets of squash, corn and berries that didn’t fit in Lynx’s smaller cart. Evie smiled wide as they approached. “Maryanne! Hello there, dear. And Samuel too! Hi, handsome.” She winked at Samuel, then turned to Lynx. Her smile grew predatory. “And who’s this lovely young man?” Maryanne laughed. “This is Liam. He’s new. And he don’t swing your way, honey, so don’t even ask. You can’t have him.” A shudder ran up Lynx’s spine. He knew Maryanne called Michael to the house sometimes during the day, but until now he’d had no idea owners loaned out their slaves to others for a similar purpose. Thank the Mother Maryanne had the sense to know he’d never be able to perform. Or maybe she knows how much you’d hate it and she doesn’t want to do that to you. Lynx hardened his mind against that thought. She was his owner, he was her property. He could not afford to fall into the same trap as Rabbit, believing the groundhogs thought of their slaves as people with needs and feelings equal to their own. He swallowed. The collar around his neck shifted against his skin with the movement. He’d taken to touching it—or swallowing to force it into motion—any

time he needed a reminder of his place in this society and why he and Rabbit needed to get out. Evie shook her head. “Oh well. Good to meet you regardless, Liam. Welcome to Queen City.” Lynx smiled, though he felt as if his face might crack from the strain of it. “Thank you, ma’am.” “Mmm. Polite as well as good-looking.” Evie batted her pale lashes at him in spite of Maryanne’s warning. “So. Maryanne. How much are we looking to trade here, dearest?” “I need a couple large baskets, if you can spare ’em.” Maryanne twisted around and gestured toward the cart behind Samuel. “What about you? I still got several baskets worth of wheat.” Evie scratched her chin. “Can you give me a one-for-one trade? I was hoping for some oats from Thomas this time, but he was all out when my Jenny went to trade for them. He lost a whole section that was almost ready for harvest when his circulator broke down last week. So I could use some extra wheat.” Maryanne nodded, her expression grim. “Sure thing, hon.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Samuel, two large baskets of wheat for Evie.” Setting his cart on the ground, Samuel took a basket from the net swinging at the side and filled it with wheat. Lynx put down his own cart at a gesture from Samuel, took the basket of wheat and placed it in the spot Evie indicated beside a couple of other baskets. Samuel brought the second load of wheat a moment later. Evie smiled at them. “Thank you, boys.” “It’s our pleasure to serve, ma’am.” Genuine pleasure tinged Samuel’s voice. Lynx managed not to roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. “You’re welcome, ma’am,” he said when Samuel nudged him with one foot.

The look Maryanne gave him showed unmistakable amusement through the cracks of her obvious worry. Lynx wondered what concerned her and if he might use it somehow. “All right, you two.” Maryanne laid a hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “Get a couple large baskets of potatoes loaded into the cart, then we’ll head on down to Eric’s to see if he’s got any apples. I know he got those sunlamps fixed, so here’s hoping.” Lynx had just settled his potato basket in the cart beside Samuel’s when the lights on the walls and hanging from the ceiling—miniature versions of the huge lamps in the farm cavern—flickered and went out. Absolute blackness fell. Lynx couldn’t pick up even the barest glimmer of light. He heard the grumbling from the people all around him, though. Somewhere to his right, a child began to cry. “Oh no. Not again.” Evie sighed. “Liam, best stick close to your cart, dear. There’s a few kids around here who are, shall we say, a bit light fingered, especially during a power failure.” “Yes, ma’am,” Lynx agreed, though he wasn’t worried about their goods. He’d sense anyone who got close enough to steal anything. He wanted to know more about the power failure. No one seemed surprised or frightened by it. How often did this happen? Why? And how could he use it? About twenty paces away, a fire flared to life from what looked like a natural pit in the stone floor. Another sprang up on the other side of the market. Maryanne let out a harsh laugh. “They’re gettin’ faster with the fires.” “Practice makes perfect. This is the third outage this month.” Evie’s brow furrowed. “I hope my power’s still on. It tends to be unreliable when the main cavern power goes.” “Yeah. Here’s hoping, hon.” Maryanne rubbed the back of her neck. “Speaking of, I guess we oughta head on out. If there’s any problems with my lamps or my circulators, I want to get right on it, and I still want some apples if I can get ’em.”

“Of course. Jenny and I will be going back home, too, as soon as she returns with the black-eyed peas.” Evie grasped Maryanne’s hand in both of hers. “Good luck, dear. See you in three days?” Maryanne darted an uncomfortable glance at Lynx. “Yeah. See you then.” Lynx lifted his cart and followed Maryanne through the throng toward the wide archway leading to the cavern with the clinic, the slave pens and the passage to the farm. He and Samuel plodded along in silence. Ahead of them, the tension in Maryanne’s shoulders spoke her worry as clearly as any words. Lynx wondered again what bothered her so. Asking Rabbit or Maryanne herself was out of the question. If he wanted to know, he’d have to be more subtle. He stifled a sigh. Subterfuge had never been his gift. If only he had Rabbit on his side.

Maryanne caught Eric just in time to trade a basket of wheat for his last basket of apples. After that, she led Lynx and Samuel back toward the farm. When they entered the central cavern and passed the slave pens, Lynx couldn’t help glancing in the direction of the exit to the surface. He couldn’t see it, of course. A long road full of people and ramshackle buildings lay between him and that path. But he knew more or less where it lay, and oh, Mother, it tempted him. The urge to drop the cart and run thumped through his limbs. The thought of Rabbit kept his fingers clenched around the rough wooden handles and his will bent to his task. Rabbit, who’d been immersed in this existence so long he’d stopped fighting it. In another lifetime, he and Rabbit had sworn their lives to one another, and to their Pack. Sworn it in blood before the Great Mother and sealed that vow with their seed in the embrace of their Brothers. Rabbit may have lost the way of the Pack, but Lynx had no intention of abandoning him now.

The number of fires dwindled as Lynx, Samuel and Maryanne drew closer to the tunnel leading to the farm. To eyes less sensitive than Lynx’s, he figured the entrance looked as if it opened into nothingness. The fact that they strode inside without hesitation reminded Lynx that they’d spent their entire lives underground. For his own part, Lynx caught the faint glow of the big sunlamps from the start. He kept the knowledge to himself. No one here except Rabbit knew about his superior eyesight. Their ignorance about that might prove an advantage at some point in the future. Lynx knew the moment Maryanne and Samuel spotted the lamplight, about halfway down the tunnel. Samuel visibly sagged at his side, and Maryanne let out a delighted whoop that echoed off the walls. She grinned over her shoulder at them. “We’re still powered up, boys. When we get home, we’re breaking out the shine.” She upped her pace to a jog, leaving Lynx, Samuel and their carts behind in seconds. Frowning, Lynx looked at Samuel. “What’s shine?” “Best stuff in the world.” Samuel aimed him a sly smile. “Randall told us you have wine where you come from. It’s kind of like that, only stronger. Burns your throat going down, but goddamn, it makes you feel good. As long as you don’t drink too much of it.” It didn’t sound all that wonderful to Lynx, but he didn’t say so. This was a golden opportunity to talk to Samuel alone. Sweet, talkative Samuel. Lover to Lisa, who’d been with Maryanne for ten years, longer than any of the other slaves. Lisa had to know things no one else did. And what she knew, no doubt Samuel did as well. Lisa, with her ever-present smile, her ready laugh and penchant for speaking her mind, would never be able to keep a secret in those vulnerable postsex moments. Lynx tried on a grin for size. It felt natural enough. “Shine. That sounds good.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice, even though Maryanne was no longer in

sight. “I know this might sound stupid, but why the celebration about your power still being on? Does it go off a lot?” To his surprise, Samuel threw back his head and laughed. “God, no. No. Our power never goes out. Everyone else’s does, though, which is why we’re celebrating.” Samuel nodded toward the ever-growing light ahead. “Unbroken record. Maryanne’s the only farmer who’s managed a full crop every month for the last… Wow. The last five years, at least. A lot of people would be going hungry if it weren’t for her.” Yes, her. And you. And Lisa, Michael, Rabbit, Kathy. Me too, now. Lynx bit back the bitter words. How could he argue with the pride beaming from every line of Samuel’s face? It took a moment for the full force of Samuel’s words to sink in. “Wait. What do you mean, going hungry?” Lynx peered at Samuel’s profile. Great Mother, he wished he could see past the absolute faith in Samuel’s eyes. “Are the farms failing because of the power problems?” Samuel glanced over his shoulder nervously, as if he expected someone to overhear. “A lot of the crops’ve been lost lately. Especially in the last few months.” “Cycles?” “Crop cycles. Michael reckons it’s mostly the power failures causing it, yeah.” Lynx chewed his bottom lip, thinking hard. “But what’s causing the power failures? Isn’t anyone doing anything to fix it?” It wasn’t exactly the direction he’d meant to go. He’d wanted to question Samuel about the power failures, yes, but mostly he’d wanted to know more about Maryanne, and about Queen City. Samuel’s talk of widespread crop loss, however, disturbed him. Back home, the loss of a food source was bad enough, even with the option of turning to things they wouldn’t normally eat. Worms,

insects, field mice. Down here? Lynx imagined mass starvation as the end result of too many dead crops. The thought frightened him. Not only because he and Rabbit were trapped here and he didn’t want either of them to die, but also because he hated to think of Lisa, Michael, Samuel and Kathy suffering a slow, torturous death from hunger. Samuel shrugged. “I don’t know what’s causing it. Don’t worry, though. I’m sure the farmers’ council and the Brass are on top of it.” The complete trust which Samuel and the other slaves placed in their owners and leaders terrified Lynx sometimes. Still, Samuel knew things Lynx didn’t. “The farmers’ council?” Lynx aimed what he hoped was nothing more than a curious look at Samuel. “What’s that?” “Oh, well, all the farm owners meet every couple of weeks and talk about whatever things are going on that affect the farms and crops and stuff. Usually they meet at Maryanne’s, because she’s got the biggest house, though sometimes they meet over at Thomas’s place.” Samuel rolled his shoulders, then gave Lynx a curious look. “Why all the questions?” Careful. Lynx smiled and hoped it didn’t look too fake. “Just curious. I’m still learning about this place.” “Oh. Yeah.” Samuel’s cart bumped over a dip in the tunnel floor. He shifted his grip on the handles. “Well, anything you want to know, just ask.” He glanced at Lynx. “Randall knows almost as much about Queen City as any native-born slave. Just in case you’re wondering.” Of that, Lynx had no doubt. Since it wouldn’t do to express his true feelings on the matter, Lynx kept quiet. His nod and smile must’ve looked as forced as they felt, but the acknowledgement seemed enough for Samuel, who turned his face to the path ahead and fell silent.

They trudged the rest of the way without further conversation. Lisa waited for them at the farm, loitering about at the edge of the fields. When Lynx and Samuel dragged their laden carts into the cavern, Lisa stopped pretending to inspect the netting around the roots of a mature plant and ran to Samuel. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Balancing his cart with one hand, he slid the other around her waist to pull her close. “How bad is it this time?” she asked when they drew apart. “Kathy came out to the fields after Maryanne got home and told us the power was out in the main cavern again.” “We don’t know anything more than that yet.” Samuel took hold of the cart handle again, as Lisa stepped out of his embrace, and followed her toward the house. “I guess we’ll know more after the farmers’ council meets again in three days.” “I suppose so.” Lisa glanced back at Lynx. “Liam, I don’t know if Randall’s shown you the storage shed for the food?” Lynx nodded. “He did, yes.” Showed it to him, took him inside and fucked him against the cold stone wall. The risk of discovery sharpened the thrill and sweetened the sound of Rabbit’s panting breaths in his ear. Even now, days later, the memory sent a rush of heat through him. He looked away so Lisa and Samuel wouldn’t see. The three of them followed the path between the house and the cavern’s side to the three sturdy rock walls built against the rear of the cave for food storage. A bamboo roof with a thick layer of straw on top kept the inside dark and cool. Samuel and Lynx unloaded the fruits and vegetables from the carts onto the shelves in the little building. That done, Lisa took the bolts of cloth into the house while Lynx and Samuel returned the carts to their spot outside the rear wall. Conversation and laughter drifted from the open kitchen door. Lynx trailed Samuel inside. Smiling, Michael gestured at the empty chair beside him. “Liam. Sit down. Have some shine.”

“I’ll have some in a minute, thanks.” Lynx glanced around. “Where’s Rab—Uh. Randall?” “He’s in the slave quarters. Wasn’t feeling too good so he went to lie down.” Kathy shot him a look far too shrewd for comfort. “Matter of fact, he ain’t been feeling right the whole time you’ve all been gone. Maybe you should check on him. Make sure he’s okay.” Lynx studied her. Obviously she thought she knew something, though what that might be Lynx had no idea. One thing he’d learned since his arrival on the farm, to his surprise, was that she and Rabbit were close friends. Did she think Lynx had said or done something to Rabbit? She’d never acted suspicious toward Lynx before, but he guessed even gruff, sour-faced Kathy would get protective when it came to those she cared about. He didn’t even bother to fake a smile. “I will. With your permission, ma’am?” He silently congratulated himself for remembering to ask Maryanne before he’d turned to leave. He couldn’t bring himself to bow the way he’d seen some slaves do with their owners, though. Thankfully, Maryanne didn’t seem to require anything more than Lynx’s polite question. She nodded. “Sure. You can bring him some food and water or whatever there in your quarters if you’d both rather, that’s fine. Oh, and if you need more, you know. Supplies.” She circled a hand in the air as if he ought to know what she meant. “We still got some left, and we should have some more soon enough. Looked like Jared’s olive crop came out just fine so we can pick some up next time we go to market.” Lynx had no idea what she was talking about until Kathy’s poorly concealed smirk clued him in. He blinked, shocked. Maryanne knew Rabbit took oil from her kitchen for him and Lynx to use at night by the light of the beeswax candle? Great Mother. Gathering his dignity around him as best he could under the weight of gazes from curious to knowingly amused, Lynx nodded, turned and walked out the door.

Maybe it was rude to leave without saying anything else, but he didn’t trust himself to speak right now. He found Rabbit in their room, sitting cross-legged on the pallet, an ancient book lying open in front of him. In the split second before he noticed Lynx’s presence, Lynx thought he looked sad. No. Not just sad. Devastated. As if his whole world had fallen down around him. Lynx had a single, suspended heartbeat to realize that whatever ailed Rabbit, it wasn’t physical. Then Rabbit glanced up. Their gazes locked. Rabbit’s face lit up and his hunched shoulders straightened, throwing off his misery like a cloak. “Lynx. You’re back.” In an instant, Lynx knew exactly what was wrong with Rabbit. What he’d believed would happen today, why he’d kept his silence and why he’d told Kathy he was ill so he could be alone instead of going to the house to eat and drink with the others. Rabbit had never liked company when he felt depressed. Lynx crossed the floor and knelt on the pallet beside Rabbit. Lifting the book with great care, he closed it and set it aside. Rabbit watched him with wide brown eyes, his newly eased fear still raw as an open wound. Lynx cupped Rabbit’s face in both hands, bent and kissed him. Softly, slowly, his entire being focused on the feel and taste of Rabbit’s mouth, the warm wet slide of Rabbit’s tongue around his and the flex of Rabbit’s jaw muscles under his fingers as the kiss grew deep. “I’d never leave you here,” Lynx whispered ages later, when they drew apart to lie down face-to-face. He stroked Rabbit’s cheek. Ran a thumb over his lips. “Never. I’d stay here the rest of my life rather than leave you. How could you think I’d run?” “I’ve been gone a long time, and I…I know I’m not… That is, I know you’re disappointed in me now. You don’t understand why I…” Rabbit shook his head, the ghost of a smile tilting the corners of his mouth. “I thought you’d take the chance, if you got it. Mother help me, but I’m glad you didn’t.”

Lynx’s heart turned over. He got a firm grip on Rabbit’s hair and gave him a light shake. “Rabbit. For seven years, I thought you were dead. Do you really think I’m letting you go ever again, now that I have you back?” Closing his eyes, Rabbit rested his forehead on Lynx’s. His fingers traced little circles on Lynx’s hip. “I’m sorry.” Lynx doubted that anyone else would’ve understood the meaning of Rabbit’s murmured apology. But he did. Not only had Rabbit believed Lynx would run and hadn’t breathed a word to anyone, but he felt bad that Lynx hadn’t regained his freedom today, even though he himself surely would’ve been punished had Lynx escaped and anyone learned later that Rabbit had suspected he might. His silence—and his sorrow on Lynx’s behalf—were the acts of a Pack Brother. Of a man who maybe wasn’t as lost as Lynx had thought. His throat tight and aching, Lynx pulled Rabbit closer, threw a leg over his thighs and wound both arms around him until their bodies pressed together from head to foot and he could feel Rabbit’s heart beating, Rabbit’s breath against his cheek and Rabbit’s hair tickling his lips. Lynx nuzzled the tiny scar at the corner of Rabbit’s jaw, the one he’d gotten falling out of the beech tree as a boy. “It’s you and me, Rabbit. Together. Always.” Rabbit nodded into Lynx’s neck. “Always.” Lynx thought it best not to disturb the fragile happiness of the moment by mentioning that his plans for eventual escape hadn’t changed. One day, when he was certain Rabbit was receptive to his plans, he would confide in Rabbit, and they’d find a way out of here together. He hoped that day would come soon.

The day of the farmers’ council, Lynx got out of the field and into the vicinity of the house by cutting his palm on a sharp edge of one bamboo pole in the harvestready section where he was assigned to work. He was alone, so he didn’t have to make the injury look accidental, just deep enough to be convincing without causing him any permanent damage. He pressed his other hand to the bleeding cut and hurried toward the house, where at least twenty-five people had gathered a little while ago. Kathy kept the bandage supplies in one of the kitchen cabinets, since they were so seldom needed. Lynx had checked. With any luck, he could get into the house, and the council would just be getting to the interesting business. Michael was crossing from the seed storage building back into the fields when Lynx emerged into the open. His eyes went wide. “Oh my God, Liam, what happened to your hand?” “I cut it on that pole with the sharp edge. You know, the one in row three?” Lynx nodded in the general direction of the pole. Michael scrunched his nose. “That thing needs filing down. I’ll do it as soon as I’ve finished the planting.” He frowned at the blood dripping from between Lynx’s palms. “That looks pretty bad. You need any help?” “No, I’ll be fine. It’s not as bad as it looks. Thanks, though.” The sight of Michael’s concerned face prodded Lynx’s conscience. He hadn’t lied to Michael. But the circumstances of his injury didn’t match what he’d let Michael believe, and that left a bitter taste in his mouth. Every Pack Brother took an oath of honesty. Deception, even the indirect sort, bothered him. Especially when he’d come to like the person he’d deceived. It’s for the greater good. For getting Rabbit and yourself back home, where you both belong. Remember that. “Okay. Just remember to stay away from the house.” Michael leaned closer, his voice dropping low. “The farmers’ council’s meeting today. You know Maryanne

doesn’t normally mind us going in and out for whatever we need, but not when the council’s meeting. Only Kathy’s allowed in the house today.” Lynx glanced toward the house, doing his best to keep his expression no more than casually curious. “All right. Um, where are the bandages?” He almost forgot to mention it, but he wasn’t supposed to know, so he thought it would’ve seemed strange if he didn’t ask. “In the house.” Michael’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “Kathy should be in the kitchen. Just go to the door and show her your hand. She’ll give you bandages and you can wash up in the trough outside. She can help you with wrapping that wound, too, if you need her to.” “Great. Thanks.” He flashed his best grateful smile and hurried off before Michael could start asking questions. He felt the weight of Michael’s gaze on the back of his neck until he turned the corner of the house taking him out of sight of the fields. He resisted the urge to peer around the curve of rock and see if Michael was still watching. It would only make him look more suspicious, something he definitely didn’t need. Leaning against the rough stones, he let out a harsh breath. Great Mother, he was terrible at being devious. A straight fight was much more to his taste. To his left, the kitchen door swung open. Kathy stepped out, her features fixed in a scowl. “Liam, what the fuck—” Her angry whisper cut off with a dropped-open jaw when she caught sight of his hand bleeding a puddle on the ground. “Jesus Christ, what happened?” “I cut my hand on the bamboo. If I could just get some bandages, I’ll get out of your hair.” He gave her the sheepish smile he’d already discovered blunted her sharp edges somewhat. “Sorry.” Sure enough, her expression softened. She waved a dismissive hand. “Sit, before you pass out. I’ll be right back.”

She turned and bustled back inside. Lynx felt no need to sit—he’d lost far more blood than this before with no ill effects—but he did it anyway. It cost him nothing, and it would keep Kathy happy with him. Half a moon-cycle was plenty of time to learn that she had the potential to be a powerful ally, under the right conditions. She returned less than a minute later by Lynx’s reckoning, a small basket in one hand. She studied Lynx with a critical eye. “Can you stand?” He nodded. “Yes.” “Good. We’re gonna go wash off that cut in the trough, then I’m gonna bandage it up with a yarrow poultice. Got that?” Lynx fought back a sudden rush of melancholy. Her fierceness reminded him of Kitten. He wondered if his Brother was still alive. If he and Fox had made it back to Carwin, and what had happened if they had. Don’t think about it. Either they made it, or they didn’t. You can’t do anything to help them now. Swallowing the ache in his throat, Lynx smiled up at Kathy. “Yes. Thank you.” She grunted something unintelligible and looked away, but he caught the faint flush in her cheeks. He let her hook a hand through his elbow and help him up, though he didn’t need it. She kept his arm firmly clutched in hers as she led him to the washing trough. He allowed it, even leaned on her just a little despite her being half a head shorter than him and so thin he’d probably crush her if he fell on her. It took a perceptive person to see past Kathy’s prickly exterior enough to realize how much she loved helping everyone around her, but Lynx was nothing if not perceptive, and that part of Kathy’s personality shone through for him. The more she thought him endearing, somewhat weak and—more importantly—in need of her to help him, the more likely she was to accidentally tell him things she might know about Maryanne, the farm and Queen City in general. Things that might eventually aid Lynx in his quest for escape.

He did his best to ignore the voice inside him telling him he shouldn’t use his friends in such a way. After all, these people weren’t his friends. He clenched his teeth against a wave of nausea. He must’ve lost more blood than he’d thought. He swayed. Stumbled. Kathy tightened her grip on his arm. “Hey, come on now. Stay with me, huh? I can’t hold you up, and I’ll be goddamned if I’m dragging your ass back to the slave quarters.” The obvious worry in her voice made Lynx feel worse. Drawing on the Pack strength inside him, he forced the borderline panic and self-disgust deep into the back of his mind. He could deal with it later, when he was alone. Now wasn’t the time. “Sorry. I’m okay.” He grinned down at Kathy and knew it looked more like a grimace, framed as it was with white, sweat-dappled skin and glazed eyes, but it was the best he could do. “Although you’re as strong as some men I’ve known twice your size. I bet you could drag my ass if you had to. But don’t worry, there won’t be any need for that.” To his relief, Kathy let out a familiar cackle. “Ha. Yeah.” They reached the trough. Dropping Lynx’s arm, she took hold of his wrist none too gently and held the injured hand over the edge of the trough. “Okay, let’s see it.” Lynx lifted his good hand off of his cut one. The slash instantly welled with blood. It pooled in his palm and overflowed on either side in red rivulets. The cut didn’t hurt that badly, but it throbbed with his heartbeat. “I cut it deeper than I thought.” He wiggled his fingers, sending fresh streams of blood pulsing out of the slash in his palm. “No damage, though. All the feeling and movement’s there.” “Well, that’s good. Hold your hand under the pipe.”

Lynx did as he was told. Taking hold of the handle on one side of the basin, Kathy pumped it until water flowed from the tube in the wall into the trough. The water was so cold it hurt. Lynx clenched his teeth. Kathy poured clear, icy water into the wound without mercy for seconds that felt more like years. Eventually, she wet a bit of cloth then stopped the flow of water. Lynx watched it drain out the bottom into the clay collecting basin at the bottom, fascinated in spite of himself with the whole recycling process, as Rabbit had called it—taking the dirty water, filtering out the waste and using it to circulate nutrients around the plant roots in the fields. Lynx might not like many aspects of Queen City, but that bit was pure brilliance. He stood stoic and silent while Kathy cleaned the blood from his hand with the damp cloth. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, considering how rough she was most of the time. She took a bottle from the basket, poured a few drops of aromatic oil on a cloth—definitely yarrow, Lynx thought, inhaling the pungent fragrance—then pressed the cloth to his palm. The damp warmth felt good on his skin. “Maryanne and her guests always like to have tea,” Kathy said, evidently answering the question in Lynx’s eyes. “I just poured some of the hot water on a bandage and brought it out. You need it for a yarrow oil poultice.” “Back home we usually just used the leaves. I think Queen City has a lot of things we didn’t.” Lynx watched Kathy wrap his hand, her movements quick, skilled and efficient. “You would’ve made a good Pack Brother.” She looked up with a startled expression. He hadn’t meant to say that, but he didn’t take it back. It was true. He hadn’t seen her fight, but he had a strong feeling she could. If she’d been born male, or into a tribe with a female Pack, he had no doubt she would’ve been Pack. A slow smile spread over her face. “Thanks.” “It’s just the truth.” He let out a hiss when she tightened the strip of cloth over the bandage. Lifting his hand, he inspected her work. No tribal healer had ever

done a finer job. He clenched his fist. Extended his fingers. The wound tugged and ached a bit, but it wasn’t bad. “That feels much better already. Thank you, Kathy.” “Sure. Keep that dressing on, keep it clean.” She stuck the wet, bloody cloth she’d used to clean Lynx’s arm in the basket, hung it on her arm and planted both hands on her narrow hips. “Let me check it tomorrow. You might need another one and you might not, but let me be the judge. Understand?” “Yes.” Raised voices floated from the house, giving him an excuse to bring up the subject of what was happening inside. “It’s the farmers’ council today, right? Why do you think they’re yelling at each other?” Kathy’s face closed up like one of the books Rabbit used to find in the old buildings in the depths of Char. “You’d best not ask questions like that, kiddo. Don’t wanna get yourself in trouble, do you?” Lynx didn’t even have to fake a puzzled expression. “Of course I don’t want to get in trouble. But I don’t understand how—” She cut him off with a stern shush, one skinny finger pointed at him. “Don’t go sticking your nose in shit that ain’t your business.” She knows something. He cradled his wounded hand against his chest, thinking. What she might know, or how that knowledge might help him reach his goal, he hadn’t a clue. But whatever she was currently trying to keep him from learning, it must have to do with the farmers’ council. A council made up of powerful members of Queen City society. Only the Brass wielded greater power over this city than those who provided the food. In fact, if push came to shove and the Brass forced a choice between obedience to the point of starvation or risking their lives in a revolution, Lynx suspected the citizenry would choose the latter. The survival instinct always won in the end, which gave the city’s farmers the sort of influence the Brass could only dream of no matter how much their people feared them.

Molding his face into the most earnest expression he could, Lynx shook his head. “I’m not going to do that, Kathy. I can’t get in trouble.” He bit his lip and stared at the ground, hoping he looked appropriately torn. “I can’t escape. And I couldn’t leave Rabbit—Randall—even if I did. I need to fit in here.” It was as close to a bald-faced lie as he’d ever come. He thought he pulled it off pretty well, considering the part of him screaming that he’d betrayed his vows as a Pack Brother. The vows were never meant to hold during extraordinary circumstances such as this. Either he’d lied—almost lied—very well indeed, or Kathy didn’t know the difference, because she let out a long-suffering sigh and patted his arm. “Just do what you’re supposed to do, don’t do what you ain’t supposed to do, and you’ll be fine. Now go on, I got stuff to take care of.” She hurried toward the back door, shooting him a halfhearted glare on the way. He smiled. “Thanks, Kathy.” She waved without looking back, strode through the open back door and shut it behind her. Alone, Lynx didn’t waste any time. The kitchen had no windows. Kathy wouldn’t see him slip around the rear of the house, listening hard for the people he knew were gathered inside. The canvas roof wouldn’t stifle the argument he’d heard briefly before. He’d turned the corner to the side of the house when he picked up the muffled sound of a man’s deep voice. He stopped. Peered along the narrow open stretch between the cave wall and the house toward the field in the distance. No one was in sight. If only Kitten were here. He would’ve been able to hear what the people inside were saying with no trouble. But Kitten was far away, back in Carwin. If he even still lived. Lynx pressed his ear to a gap between two of the stones making up the wall of the house.

Chapter Seven “No,” the man Lynx had heard a moment ago said. He sounded distressed. “Not until we know for sure.” “And how are we ever supposed to know for sure if we don’t do anything?” A woman this time. Lynx didn’t recognize her voice any more than he had the man’s. “We can’t just keep sitting on our hands. We need to act, and we need to do it soon.” “It’s too dangerous.” The man’s voice brimmed with fear. “If they find out—” “We know, Thomas.” Maryanne’s voice. Lynx barely dared to breathe. “Yeah, it’s dangerous. But Caroline’s right. We gotta do something. The longer we wait, the more likely we are to end up starving down here in the dark.” A jolt ran up Lynx’s spine. It didn’t take much to figure out that this had something to do with the power losses. Pulse racing, he pressed closer to the wall. “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?” Evie’s voice this time, nervous and troubled. “What, exactly, are we to do? Even if we had any idea what they were planning—even if we were sure they were planning any particular action in the first place, and you know as well as I do that our intelligence in that area is suspect at best—even if we knew those things… How would we stop them? Would we even want to?” Another man spoke up, his voice softer, slower, and altogether more thoughtful in its timbre than Thomas’s. “You have a point, Evie. What if their plans—if those plans in fact exist—turn out to be beneficial to us?” Maryanne laughed. The sound was harsh and bitter. “And how do you define us, Jared? ’Cause you know damn well they—” Lisa’s laughter drifted through the air, close enough to make Lynx jump away from the crack in the wall and stroll toward the fields as if he’d been headed that

way all along. He spotted her as he passed the corner of the house. She was heading for the water jugs and basket of fruit Kathy kept at the front of the house during the day for the field workers, since there were no morning or midday meals served. Lisa let out a startled squeal. “Liam. God, you scared me.” “Sorry.” He managed a smile in spite of his shaking limbs and galloping heart. “I was just heading back out. I didn’t see you.” He waved at Samuel, who stood a few paces away eyeing him with unguarded suspicion. “Hi, Samuel.” The other man nodded, spun and strode off toward the field. Lynx frowned. “Is he okay?” Privately, he hoped Samuel didn’t suspect him of…well, what he’d been doing—spying. He wasn’t going to tell Lisa that, though. She wrinkled her nose. “Ignore him. He’s being an idiot right now.” She didn’t elaborate, and Lynx didn’t ask her to for fear of rousing her suspicions as well as Samuel’s. Mother, but this whole business of keeping secrets felt as if he were trying to balance a gigantic boulder on his head. It took all his concentration. Made him feel tense and on edge. Lynx darted a glance toward the row of mid-cycle plants where Samuel had vanished. “Well. I guess I’d better get back to work.” “Wait.” Lisa walked over to him and grabbed his arm. “What happened to your hand?” “Oh. I cut it. Kathy cleaned and bandaged it for me. It’s fine.” Lisa’s expression softened in sympathy, and it was all Lynx could do to hide his irritation. Great Mother, it was just a cut. He knew injuries—even minor ones— were uncommon here, but still. He was hardly at death’s door. “Listen, if you need something for pain, come to mine and Samuel’s room after dinner tonight.” She leaned closer, gray eyes bright. “Samuel’s brother Theodore belongs to Ashley and George, who run the hemp farm. They let their slaves hand out the hemp leaves to whoever wants them.” “Thank you. It really doesn’t hurt, though.”

It did, actually, enough to bother him a little now that he was no longer distracted. But the pain wasn’t anywhere near bad enough to make him want to turn to hemp leaves for relief. They clouded his mind in a way he didn’t like at all. She smiled up at him. “Well, if you change your mind, come see me. I’ll fix you up.” She gave his wrist a squeeze, then let him go. He left Lisa to her fruit and wandered back into the field. His mind raced, trying to figure out the meaning of what little he’d overheard from the farmers’ council. The only thing he knew for certain was that the power situation was worse than he’d suspected. He had his suspicions regarding who they were—the they who had driven this group of farmers to contemplate some sort of nebulous action under cover of a council discussing farming issues. Who else here but the Brass could inspire the fear of being left in the dark to starve? Maryanne’s words, the last he’d heard before almost being caught, bothered him the most. How do you define us? He didn’t like the direction his thoughts turned when he considered it. He moved between the rows of bamboo poles, looped nets and compact wheat plants toward where he’d left his half-full basket. Rabbit stood there, rubbing an ancient metal bar over the sharp spot where Lynx had cut himself. A file, Michael had called the metal thing the one time Lynx had seen it before—something the original settlers of Queen City once used to smooth the rough edges of objects. It remained whole and unblemished. Michael said that was because just before the Change, the ancients had special metals that resisted rust. Lynx had heard enough such stories by now that he’d almost stopped being amazed by them. Rabbit glanced at Lynx as he approached. “I filed this down. Hopefully we won’t have any more accidents. If that’s what it was.” Lynx’s stomach lurched. “Michael was going to do that. There was no need for you to bother.”

The humorless quirk of Rabbit’s lips told Lynx he wasn’t going to get away with ignoring what Rabbit had said. “Michael still had planting to do, and I was finished with the equipment inspection. Though I’m sure you would rather he did it. He doesn’t know you like I do.” Rabbit ran a thumb over the spot he’d just filed. Nodding, he turned and pinned Lynx with a stare. “What in the Mother’s name did you think you were doing?” Lying wasn’t an option. Not when Rabbit looked him in the eye and demanded the truth. Lynx drew himself up straight and met Rabbit’s gaze. “I wanted to know more about Maryanne and the farmers’ council. I wanted to know who they are, what they do and what they know about this whole power situation.” Rabbit’s brows pulled together. “Why?” “Because I’m worried about it.” Lynx picked at his bandage. He watched Rabbit’s face, the face he’d once been able to read so easily and no longer could, at least not like before. “Aren’t you?” Rabbit looked away. “This is an old system. It’s bound to have problems from time to time.” “All the more reason for worry, I’d think.” “All the more reason to take it all in stride instead of panicking, I’d think.” Helpless anger rose up Lynx’s throat. He opened his mouth. Snapped it shut again before he could say anything he’d regret later. Furious, hurt for no reason he could pinpoint and not sure what to do about it, Lynx hefted his basket and went back to harvesting the wheat. In that moment he hated what Rabbit had become. Hated how he’d turned into just another docile, obedient slave, choosing to deny, deny, deny rather than face the hard fact of the potential disaster threatening this place. Great Mother, Lynx wanted his Brother back. Thinking him dead had been easier than this, than the moments of bright hope that his Pack spirit had revived, only to find it wasn’t so.

Rabbit let out a frustrated sound. “Lynx, come on. You don’t know Queen City like I do. You don’t know their power system like I do. You don’t know Maryanne like I do. Believe me, if there were any real reason to worry, she would’ve told us. She doesn’t keep us in the dark about matters of safety. Some owners might, that’s true, but she wouldn’t.” The faint but noticeable uncertainty threading through Rabbit’s voice exasperated Lynx nearly as much as the fact that he couldn’t tell Rabbit he was wrong. Lynx breathed in. Out, slowly. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. The point is, that’s why I wanted to go to the house. Just to see what I could learn, because I was worried. And curious.” He kept his voice calm with effort. Silence. Lynx carefully removed a ripe stalk of wheat from its pouch of netting and dropped it in the basket. Beside him, Rabbit plucked another stalk, closed the distance between them and set the wheat in the basket with the rest. He stared at Lynx, his expression solemn. “You didn’t get inside. Kathy wouldn’t have let you.” His absolute confidence made Lynx smile. “No, I didn’t. She cleaned and bandaged my hand, and told me not to stick my nose into shit that’s not my business.” Rabbit laughed, soft and wistful. “You never were any good at being devious.” He touched Lynx’s bandaged hand. “I hope you didn’t hurt yourself too badly.” Lynx shrugged. “The cut’s deeper than I’d intended, but it should heal okay.” “Hmm.” A crease formed between Rabbit’s eyes for a second before his brow smoothed out and he smiled. “I’ll help you harvest.” Apprehension prodded Lynx in the gut, though he couldn’t have said why, exactly. He set the basket on the ground and shook his aching hand. “You don’t have to. I can handle it. I know you have other things to do.” Rabbit shook his head. “I told you, I’m done. All I had today was inspections, and those are finished. Maryanne wanted me to help out with whatever section

needed me once I was done with my own stuff.” Sidling closer, he slipped an arm around Lynx’s waist, tilted his head and stole a swift kiss. “Looks like you need me right now.” Lynx’s first reaction was to argue. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Rabbit wanted to keep an eye on him, in case he decided to try something else. But the hand at his hip and the warm lips so close to his own reminded him he did need Rabbit. They needed each other, if they were going to make it out of here alive. Just because Rabbit didn’t realize that yet didn’t make it not true. He wound his arms around Rabbit’s neck and kissed him again. Harder this time. Deeper. Their tongues slid together, and Rabbit moaned. Lynx pulled away, wishing they could fuck right here in the fields. Maybe then things would be okay between them, for now at least. He smiled. “Okay. Let’s get back to work. We can pick this up again after lights out.” The heated look he got in return made him wish it were lights out already.

Rabbit had clinic duty for part of the next day. When he returned for dinner, he brought news of scattered power failures throughout the city, as well as a general sense of unrest among the citizens. Apparently, the increasing frequency of the outages had the people nervous. “Do you still think it’s nothing to worry about?” Lynx asked that night, as the two of them made their way hand in hand to their room. Rabbit didn’t answer, but the furrow between his brows told Lynx all he wanted to know.

Lynx woke the morning after that with his injured hand throbbing. He scowled at the fresh blood dotting the bandage. It wasn’t much, but it irritated him. The Mother-damned thing ought to have at least stopped bleeding by now. When the slaves filed out of their quarters, he tried to hide the bloody linen on his hand with the angle of his body as he drank from the water jug and grabbed an apple for breakfast, but Kathy’s sharp eyes missed nothing. Setting down the basket of wet clothing she’d been hanging on the line to dry, she strode over and dealt him a cuff upside the head. “Let me see.” He didn’t bother pretending ignorance. He held out his hand. “You just looked at it yesterday. It’s fine.” She shot him a withering look. He held up his free hand in a gesture of surrender, and Kathy went to work unwrapping his bandaged palm. Next to him, Rabbit coughed into his hand. His shoulders shook. Lynx glared. Rabbit raised his eyebrows, his lips still twitching with stifled laughter. “You’d best not be laughing, young’un.” Kathy cut a knowing look at Rabbit. “You been in a few scrapes your own self. Worse than this, if I remember right.” The way Rabbit hunched in on himself made Lynx wonder if the times Kathy remembered had anything to do with the newer scars on Rabbit’s body. He didn’t know whether to hope they’d been self-inflicted like his own, or not. “Kathy. Guys. What’s up?” Maryanne. Lynx tensed. Kathy prodded at the reddened, swollen edges of the slash on Lynx’s palm. He swallowed, surprised by how much it hurt. Kathy narrowed her eyes at him as if she knew. “This cut’s not healing right. He needs to go see Em.” Turning, Lynx studied Maryanne’s face. She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “That’s a good idea. We don’t want it gettin’ infected or anything. Randall, you said she needed you back today, right?”

Rabbit nodded. “Yes, ma’am. The sickness among the people from the deeps is getting worse. The clinic’s full of them.” He glanced sidelong at Lynx, dark eyes full of something Lynx couldn’t name. “Poor bastards.” Maryanne scrubbed a hand through her hair, sending it into an even wilder disarray than before. “Bring Liam with you today. Get Em to take a look at his hand and do whatever she can. We can spare him in the fields for a day. I’ll fill in.” Shocked, Lynx stared at her, ignoring Rabbit’s “Yes, ma’am” and Kathy’s opinion that he would have died of blood poisoning within a few days without her intervention. Maryanne was willing to go into the fields and harvest wheat so he could go to the clinic and have his wound tended. No. Not just willing. She clearly considered it part of her job. A practicality of owning a farm. Lynx dipped his head toward her in the only show of respect he was willing to give. “Thank you, ma’am.” “Oh, please.” She walked over and clapped him on the shoulder. “Listen, son. There ain’t a job on this farm I can’t do myself. But I need every last one of you to help me run this old place. You, and me, and Randall, all of us, we’re all equally important around here.” She glanced at Kathy, who snorted and headed toward the house. Maryanne shook her head with a faint smile. “I know there’s some who wouldn’t agree with me on that, but I know it’s true. Now you go on with Randall today and get that hand healed up. I’ll get your harvesting done. Hell, I been doin’ it longer than you have.” Lynx could hardly argue her point. Not that he wanted to, really. He didn’t think his hand needed any special care, but he remembered labeling Emily at the clinic as a potential ally. Talking to her again could be good. She wouldn’t have to tell him anything specific in order for him to learn something. He’d always been good at hearing what people didn’t quite say.

“Of course, ma’am.” He held his hand against his chest, though he didn’t need to play up the pain very much. It ached bone deep. “When should I be ready to go, R—Randall?” Only a slight stumble that time. He was getting better. “Now’s as good a time as any.” Rabbit looked to Maryanne, brows raised. “Maryanne? Is that all right?” She nodded. “Get some more yarrow oil from Em, if she’s got any to spare. Kathy said we’re low.” “What’s left in that bottle’s ’bout gone over,” Kathy added, approaching with a length of clean linen in her hand. “We need some fresh.” She grabbed hold of Lynx’s wrist. “Here, let me wrap that.” Lynx obediently held still while Kathy wound the linen around his hand. It hurt. He made a mental note to ask Em if she had any willow bark. “I’ll ask ’em about the yarrow.” Once Kathy had finished with Lynx’s bandage, Rabbit laid a hand on his arm. “Come on. Let’s get going.” Lynx followed him toward the cavern’s exit. The two of them started down the long tunnel. They walked in silence except for the faint echoes of their footfalls rebounding from the curved walls. Lynx glanced at Rabbit. His jaw was tight, his brow furrowed. Once they were out of sight and earshot of the farm, Lynx reached out and took Rabbit’s hand in his uninjured one, lacing their fingers together. “What’s wrong?” “I think…” Rabbit glanced over his shoulder, the movement quick and nervous in a way completely unlike him. “I think you may be right. About the power outages.” His gaze met Lynx’s for one searing moment before skittering away again. “I listened at the clinic yesterday. People are talking. They’re worried.” “Are they?” “Yes. But I think you already knew that.” Lynx’s heart thumped hard. He licked his lips. “I’d guessed.”

The corners of Lynx’s mouth turned upward. “Come on, Lynx, don’t play innocent with me. I’ve known you since we were children, remember? I know when you’re hiding something. You’ve always been terrible at it.” He stared at Lynx, his gaze curious and utterly free of reproach. “You must’ve heard something that day when you cut your hand. What did you hear? And how?” Lynx hesitated. Rabbit was loyal to Maryanne. If he told her what Lynx had done, things could go badly for him. Beside him, Rabbit let out a soft sigh. “I guess I can’t blame you for not wanting to tell me. It’s just that…” He gave Lynx’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You used to trust me, Lynx. I miss that.” A lump rose in Lynx’s throat. “Me too.”

The clinic was even busier than it had been on the day of Lynx’s capture. Someone had dragged in more cots, and every one of them held ill citizens. Women, men, children, many curled onto their sides in misery or retching into bowls. The smell of vomit hung heavy in the air. Lynx looked around in mingled pity and apprehension. “Great Mother. What’s wrong with them? Is it catching?” “Probably not, no.” Rabbit stopped to retrieve a bowl a little girl had dropped on the floor and couldn’t reach. He patted her head, and she gave him a weak smile. “It’s mostly all people from the deeps. No one else seems to be catching it.” Something in Rabbit’s tone set off alarms in Lynx’s head. He grabbed Rabbit’s arm, because they were more than halfway across the small room already and he didn’t have time for delicacy. “You know what this is, don’t you? You and Emily.” Rabbit darted a wide-eyed glance at him. “What?” “You know. Tell me.” Lynx couldn’t say why the need to know seemed so urgent to him. But it did.

Rabbit looked away. “We don’t know for sure.” Emily hurried over before Lynx could say another word. “Randall, I’m so glad you’re here early today. We had an influx late yesterday, just before lights out. Heather and I are just about overwhelmed.” “Heather is Emily’s daughter.” Rabbit nodded toward a thin, mousy girl feeding something from a bowl to an elderly woman a few beds away. “She helps out here a couple days a week.” He slipped an arm around Lynx’s shoulders. “Emily, I know you’re really busy, but could you please take a look at Liam’s—Lynx’s— hand? He cut it the other day and it’s not begun healing yet. It’s still bleeding, in fact.” “Not a lot.” Lynx let Emily take his wrist and turn his injured hand palm up. “Just kind of oozing.” “How much pain are you having?” Emily peered around, her lips pursed. “Let’s go back there, out of the way. This isn’t a good place to examine you.” “I’ll get to work now.” Rabbit touched Lynx’s cheek and pulled away. “I’ll see you in a little while.” Lynx followed Emily to a corner in the rear of the room. He sat on one of the two small stools while Emily sat on the other. She took his hand again, her eyebrows raised. “It really isn’t that painful,” he said as she began unwinding his bandage, which was already spotted with fresh blood. “But I’ve had wounds like this before, and this one hurts more than it should.” “Hmm.” Dropping the soiled linen into a basket on the floor, Emily bent low to peer at the gash in Lynx’s hand. She tugged gently at the edges of the cut with her thumbs. “I see some little pieces of something in the wound. What did you cut yourself on?” “A sharp piece of bamboo at the farm.” Curious, Lynx leaned closer to see if he could spot what Emily saw. Now that he knew what to look for, he saw them—

several thin slivers no longer than a hair on a nettle stem. “How did bamboo get left in there? Kathy washed it out.” “They’re very small splinters, and they seem to be lodged pretty deep in the wound. A stream of water wouldn’t dislodge them.” She glanced up into his eyes. “I have a special tool for cleaning foreign material out of wounds. That’ll clean it out and allow it to heal properly. The cleaning is going to be very painful, though. I’m sorry.” Lynx grimaced. He’d lived through much worse, but that didn’t mean he looked forward to it. “It’s okay. Better to take care of it now, before it gets worse.” “Indeed. You don’t want that getting infected.” Laying his hand on his thigh, she twisted around to fetch an oil lamp from farther down the shelf. She lifted the glass, lit the wick with a flint, replaced the glass and dialed up the flame until it encased the two of them in a circle of brilliant yellow light. Try as he might, Lynx couldn’t remember ever seeing another oil lamp in this city. It was as if the Great Mother herself had given him a sign. “You have an oil lamp.” Emily raised her eyebrows at him. “Yes.” She took a clay bowl from the shelf beside her. “Here. Keep this on your lap and hold your hand over it.” Lynx did as he was told, steadying the bowl with his good hand. Fresh blood dripped from his palm, deep red against the gray-white of the basin. “Sorry, ma’am. I only mentioned it because I haven’t seen any other oil lamps here. I thought everyone used the power from the earth.” He gave her his best version of an innocent, sheepish smile. “I have to admit I don’t really understand how your power works. It’s kind of nice to see something familiar.” If he’d been hoping for softness or sympathy from her, he was disappointed. She pinned him with a sharp gaze that seemed to see right through his skull. “Yes, well, I’ve found it prudent to have an alternate source of light, particularly in the last few cycles.” She took a glass jar from the shelf and uncorked it. “Spread your palm out as much as you can, and hold still. This is a mixture of boiled water and

geranium, to disinfect the cut before I go in to get the splinters out. I want this to get as deep into the wound as possible.” Lynx opened his hand, fingers stretched wide. Emily poured the liquid from the jug into his cut. It stung, but he’d expected as much. He kept still and watched the blood-tinged solution run from his palm into the bowl. “Yes, ma’am. The power’s been going off a lot lately, hasn’t it?” She frowned, eyes narrowed, and Lynx wondered if he’d gone too far. The outages weren’t a secret, though. How could they be, when the entire central cavern went dark often enough that people had wood at the ready and fires lit within minutes? “I’m sure you are aware of the extent of the power outages, Lynx.” She stared at him for a moment with a strange intensity before taking a linen cloth from the pile on the shelf. Removing the basin from his lap, she dabbed the liquid from his hand and wrapped the cloth loosely around the palm. “The power in the deeps hasn’t been reliable for at least a year. And they’ve been entirely without power there for the last eleven days. They’ve been using oil and wood fires for light, heat and cooking.” She took an odd, pointed metal tool from the shelf. “Did you know that?” He shook his head, his pulse pounding at the base of his throat. Why did she look at him like that? And why the emphasis on his real name? “No, ma’am.” He watched her unwrap his hand and turn the palm so that the lamplight fell directly onto the open, oozing slash. He wanted to ask the question foremost in his mind, but… But what? You have to take a risk, or you’ll never get anywhere. Lynx’s gut told him to trust Emily, and he was rarely wrong. “That’s why they’re all so sick, isn’t it? It has something to do with the power being out.” He gulped when she leveled a steely gaze at him. Great Mother, she was nearly as intimidating as Mother Rose. “Um. Ma’am.”

A faint smile curved her lips. She bent over his palm, one thumb holding the cut open, and slipped the metal thing inside. He couldn’t help the sharp hiss that escaped him when the instrument dug into the raw flesh. She withdrew it with three bloody bamboo slivers clinging to it. They were so small Lynx doubted he could have seen them if his eyesight hadn’t been so keen. She wiped them off on the linen and went back in. He clenched his jaw against the pain and kept himself obediently motionless. Emily worked silently for a couple of minutes, alternately digging her strange instrument into his palm and washing the cut with geranium water. Finally, she put the tool down and picked up a square of fresh linen. She folded it and dampened one side with plain water. After searching through the confusion of jars, bottles and bowls on her shelf, she found a small bottle of yarrow oil and dribbled several drops onto the linen. It hurt when she pressed the bandage to his aching palm. “I can give you some opium tincture if you like,” she said, winding a length of clean cloth around his hand. “It’ll kill the pain, but it’ll also cloud your mind worse than even hemp leaves. I know how the Packs are about that sort of thing, but the offer is there if you’d like the pain relief.” Lynx wrinkled his nose. “No, thank you, ma’am. I’ll be fine without it. Though I wouldn’t turn down some willow bark if you have any.” “I’m afraid not. Randall’s explained willow trees to me, and how you can use the bark of certain strains for pain relief. But those trees don’t grow here. I’ve a few other herbs I can give you, though. Some chamomile might help.” “That would be fine, ma’am, thank you.” It didn’t kill the pain as well as willow bark, but at least chamomile tea tasted good. “Very well.” She studied him for a moment. It felt like he imagined being skinned would feel. He fought the urge to squirm. “You were right, you know.” She could only be referring to one thing, and it had nothing to do with herbs. The excitement of discovery flared in Lynx’s gut. “What’s going on? Ma’am.”

She shot a glance around the room. Heather bent over a young woman, holding her hair back while she vomited into a bowl. Near the door, Rabbit straightened up from a little boy’s bed, his scope hanging from his neck. He caught Emily’s eye and shook his head, then moved on to the man in the next bed. Lynx peered at the boy Rabbit had just left. He lay on his back, one small hand curled on his pillow and the other over his belly. His eyes stared unblinking at the ceiling. Across the way, a woman rose from her own bed, stumbled to the dead boy’s cot and sank down into it. She didn’t make a sound, just pulled the child into her arms and held his limp body to her chest, her face buried in his damp, matted hair. The sight tore at Lynx’s heart. He’d only ever known these people as enemies— no, he’d never known them at all, he’d only known their cruel, brutal leaders— but he found himself unable to see them the same way any longer. How could he, when they suffered and died and mourned their lost ones just like anyone else? “Damn. That’s the second one since last night.” Emily sighed, shoulders slumped. “I’m not sure what’s happening, exactly. But it’s bad, and it’s getting worse. And yes, I believe it’s linked to the power failure in the deeps. Worst of all, I have no idea what to do about it.” Careful. “Ma’am? Have…have you talked to the Brass about it?” Lynx knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he had to do it. One dead child had made this about more than himself and Rabbit escaping. No. It wasn’t just the boy. He had to admit he’d come to care about his fellow farm slaves for their own sakes. Maryanne, too, if he was honest with himself. Emily made a dismissive noise. “The Brass. I’m sure they’d be happy to save their own skins, but I seriously doubt they’d go to any trouble for the rest of us.” She stopped, her face blank, but the too-wide eyes told Lynx she hadn’t meant to speak quite so freely. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You mustn’t repeat any of this. I’m not one for punishing slaves, but I will find a way if I hear that you’ve repeated any of what I’m telling you. Is that clear?”

Lynx tamped down the automatic surge of resentment. Emily feared for her own safety and that of her daughter, that much was obvious. In her position, he would’ve done the same. “Yes, ma’am. I won’t tell anyone.” He chewed his bottom lip, picked at his cotton pants and made a decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret. “Ma’am. Emily. I think I might know something that could help you.” Her expression didn’t change, but her fingers went white with tension where they’d wound together in her lap. “I don’t wish to get you into trouble.” “It won’t, as long as we’re both careful. Besides, I think it’s time for anyone who cares about Queen City and is concerned over what’s happening here to start taking some risks.” He looked around. Rabbit and Heather were both busy with the ill and dying. None of the sick looked to be in any shape to pay attention to them. “The day I got cut, the farmers’ council was meeting at Maryanne’s house. I overheard them talking. They think the Brass is planning something to do with the power problems, and the council is considering some plan of their own to find out what the Brass is up to—if they’re up to anything—and figure out how to stop them if whatever they’re doing isn’t in the best interests of the whole city.” Emily stared at him for so long he began to wonder if he’d made a massive mistake after all. What if she was working for the Brass, trying to ferret out trouble-making slaves? Great Mother, they’d probably execute him on the spot. He’d faced death before and would do it again, but he didn’t want to die. Besides, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Rabbit alone. Especially with this terrible distance still between them. He was about to say something—what, he had no idea—when she laid a cool hand on his arm. “So, the farmers’ council is working against the Brass?” “I’m not sure. I didn’t hear enough to be positive about that. But it’s possible. Or at least it’s possible they might be, soon.” Lynx regarded her white face and glittering eyes with dawning realization. “Oh, Mother. So, you—” She shushed him with a soft hiss and fingers going tight around his wrist. “Yes.” A grim smile tugged up the corners of her mouth. “We’ve been fighting the good fight for going on three years now. We call ourselves the Queen’s Redemption.”

Chapter Eight For a moment, Lynx just stared, speechless. His mind flew back to the day of his capture. To the mention of something called the Redemption and how eager the Brass patrol leader seemed to make sure Lynx learned nothing of it. This was what had them bothered. The Queen’s Redemption. A true people’s rebellion. Lynx had known in his heart that Emily was trustworthy. But he’d never expected her to be part of a rebel group. “I’ve startled you.” She let go of his wrist and patted his knee. “We can’t talk about this here, it’s too public.” She shot a significant glance toward Rabbit and Heather. “When you and Randall return to the farm this evening, please tell Maryanne I’d like to speak with her next time she’s in town. She can stop by the clinic, if she doesn’t mind.” Lynx thought he could guess why Emily wanted to talk to Maryanne. He nodded. “Is there anything else in particular you’d like me to tell her?” “No. Just that I’d need to talk to her. If she asks, tell her you don’t know why I want to see her, or why I gave you the message instead of Randall. There’s no sense in exposing you to unnecessary danger at this point.” The urge to laugh bubbled up Lynx’s throat. He swallowed it. “I appreciate the thought, ma’am, but I’m Pack. I’ve been in one sort of danger or another since I was initiated. I can handle it. I can certainly fight, if I need to.” “I know you can. But this isn’t the sort of fight you’re trained for.” She pushed to her feet with a pop of joints and a faint grimace. Reaching for the jar of chamomile on the shelf put her close enough to murmur low in Lynx’s ear. “It may come to that though, sooner rather than later. It would be good to have as many Pack on our side as we can get. Do you understand?” He did. His mouth suddenly too dry to speak, Lynx nodded.

Queen City didn’t have many Pack slaves, at least not that Lynx had seen. Jane, the Norman girl he’d met in the pens, wasn’t Pack, but the other Norman he’d spotted at the market had Pack markings on his face. Lynx figured both would gladly join the rebellion if given the chance. He’d spotted a woman on the way here today who he was sure must’ve been a Pack Sister somewhere, though he had no idea where she could have come from. That left only one Pack member other than himself. How strange, that the one person he wasn’t sure he could trust was the one he needed the most.

Lynx didn’t see Maryanne at dinner that night. Kathy told him later that she’d spent the evening in an emergency farmers’ council meeting at Evie’s place and come home just before lights out. She showed up at dinner the next night looking grim and haggard, greeted the group with a mumbled hey and bent over her plate without another word. Lynx wondered what had happened, and he knew he wasn’t the only one. All the slaves exchanged surreptitious, worried glances. All except Kathy. Whatever troubled Maryanne, Kathy seemed to know all about it. Lynx made a mental note to talk to her alone as soon as he could. After dinner, Lynx lingered in the kitchen as the other slaves left. While Kathy piled the dirty dishes into her basket, Lynx approached Maryanne. “Ma’am? I have a message for you.” “Yeah?” She stifled a yawn behind her hand. “What?” “Emily from the clinic told me to tell you she wants to talk to you next time you’re in town.” Her eyebrows rose. “Huh. Did she say why?” “No, ma’am.” The not-quite-lie slipped out easier than his previous ones had. That fact bothered him more than the almost-untruth itself.

“Okay. Guess I’ll have to find out when I see her.” Maryanne scrubbed both palms over her face. With a deep sigh, she dropped her hands and regarded Lynx with narrowed eyes. “Funny that she wants to talk to me all of a sudden. I’d kind of got the idea she didn’t think much of me.” Lynx shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that, ma’am.” Which was true. He barely knew Emily. He had no idea how she might feel about Maryanne. “No. Course not.” She gave him a wry smile. “I’m goin’ to the market tomorrow to see some other people. I’ll stop in and see Em then.” She gestured at his bandaged hand. “How’s the hand doin’?” “Much better, thank you.” He lifted it and flexed the fingers. The palm still ached, but it no longer bled and the cut had begun to heal. “Good, good.” She yawned again, not bothering to hide it this time. “All right, I’m worn out. I’m gonna go to bed. You go on to your quarters and get some rest yourself. See you tomorrow.” “Yes, ma’am. Good night.” Maryanne shuffled off down the short hallway to the interior of the house, which Lynx had never seen. With no reason to hang around indoors without drawing unwanted attention to himself, he turned and walked out the back door. Kathy was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, Lynx looked around. The basket full of dirty dishes sat beside the trough, but he didn’t see Kathy. He went to the corner of the house nearest the slave quarters and peered out toward the fields. Not a soul was in sight. He should set his feet straight to the slave quarters. He had no business going in the other direction, to the side of the house where he’d heard the farmers’ council talking before. He justified it by telling himself that Kathy could be in trouble. She might need his help.

It made a good cover story for following her, in any case. At least, he hoped it would help if he got caught. Lynx retraced his steps to the back door, stopped and listened. He heard nothing. Saw nothing. All senses on high alert, he padded silently to the opposite end of the house. Everything remained quiet. Holding his breath, he peered around the corner. Two figures stood close together at the cavern’s entrance. One was a man he didn’t recognize. The other figure was small, reed thin and familiar, even from the back. Kathy. Lynx eased back out of sight before the stranger could spot him. His mind raced. Who was the man? Why was Kathy talking to him at the mouth of the cave after everyone else had turned in for the evening? Had this sort of thing been going on all along and he simply hadn’t noticed? Voices from the direction of the slave quarters nudged him out of his thoughts and into motion. He hurried across the space behind the house. Michael and Rabbit came into view from around the other corner just as he passed the back door. Rabbit’s brow creased. “What’re you doing?” “I was just talking to Maryanne.” Lynx pointed at the kitchen door, glad to hear no hint of tension in his voice. “Emily had asked me to give her a message, so I was doing that.” Michael laughed. “Well, that’s a switch. What kind of message?” Surprised at the question, Lynx echoed Michael’s laughter. He must’ve been joking. “Come on, you know I can’t tell you that.” “Hey, I’m a curious guy, what can I say?” Michael grinned, but Lynx thought it hid a sliver of disappointment.

He supposed he couldn’t blame Michael. After all, he wasn’t the only Queen City resident addicted to gossip. The scarcity of other entertainment meant groundhogs and slaves alike passed around scraps of news and hearsay the way the Pack shared food. “It wasn’t anything exciting anyway.” A truthful enough statement, on the surface. Lynx studied Rabbit, whose frown had deepened. “I thought everyone had gone to quarters already.” “Michael offered to wash up for Kathy tonight. I came to look for you, since you didn’t come to our room with me.” Rabbit gazed off into the distance, an unreadable expression on his face. He looked as if he wanted to say something else but couldn’t find the right words. Worried, Lynx took Rabbit’s hand and wove their fingers together. Rabbit squeezed his hand, and he felt better. “Where is Kathy, anyway? Is she all right?” He hadn’t wanted to be the one to call attention to her absence, but now he was curious to know what the others would say. “She told me her hands were hurting her.” Michael scratched the back of his neck. “She’s got some kind of thing in her joints where she has a lot of pain sometimes and she has to rest. We all help her out when we need to.” “Oh. I had no idea.” Lynx stifled the urge to glance toward the other side of the house. “So, I guess she’s lying down then, huh?” Michael shrugged. “Not sure. Either that or she’s resting in the house for a minute. Maryanne lets her do that when she needs to.” His gaze strayed to the house, as if looking for Kathy. Lynx nodded and held his tongue. Whatever Kathy was up to, he saw no reason to tell the others what he knew just yet. It wasn’t as though he knew anything useful, anyway. The whole situation might be perfectly innocent. Except it wasn’t. He felt it in his bones. The real question involved the stranger— who he was, and who he worked for, if anyone. Lynx had no idea how to find out,

but he was determined to do it. If Kathy or the man he’d seen her with could help—or hinder—Emily’s rebellion, he wanted to know. He looked at Rabbit, who’d remained silent during his exchange with Michael. “R—Um. Randall? You ready to go to bed now?” Rabbit turned his head, blinked and focused on Lynx. His lips curved into a halfhearted smile. “Yeah. Let’s go.” He glanced at Michael. “Michael, if Kathy needs someone to help her out in the morning, tell her I’ll do it. Good night.” “Okay. Night, guys.” Michael headed for the washing trough with a smile and wave. Rabbit started toward the slave quarters. Lynx walked beside him, their fingers still intertwined. Moments like these, with Rabbit’s hand warm and solid in his, gave Lynx hope that everything would be all right. They didn’t speak on the short distance between the house and the slave quarters. The silence continued while they washed and undressed, while Lynx lit the candle in their little room and they stretched out together on the straw pallet. When Lynx leaned over to kiss Rabbit, he stopped Lynx with a hand against his lips. “Wait. We need to talk.” Apprehension coiled in Lynx’s gut. “What is it?” Rabbit sucked his lower lip into his mouth. Let it go. “What are you doing?” He knows. Lynx’s heart slammed into his throat. He hid it with a huge effort. “What do you mean?” “Come on, Lynx.” Rabbit laid a warm hand on Lynx’s cheek. “I know you’re hiding something from me, and I get the feeling it’s something that could be kind of bad.” He ran his thumb over the line of Lynx’s jaw. “Tell me. Please.” Lynx heard all the things unsaid behind Rabbit’s spoken words—the love, the fear, the mourning for what the two of them had once been—but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Rabbit what he’d learned. Or what he suspected, since he knew

very little for certain. He still wasn’t sure if he could trust Rabbit to keep his secrets. More than that, he didn’t want to drag Rabbit into a potentially dangerous situation when he had no idea anymore how Rabbit felt about…well, anything, really. But he had to say something. Rabbit knew him too well. He scooted closer until Rabbit’s face was blurred and lying to him felt easier. “I’m worried about Kathy, that’s all. She’s been really good to me since I got here. I didn’t know she was sick.” “Yeah. Right.” Rabbit rolled onto his back and stared at the cavern ceiling far above. “I wouldn’t tell anyone, you know.” Studying Rabbit’s profile striped with light and shade, Lynx believed him. But he couldn’t tell Rabbit anything. Not yet. Not until he knew it was safe. The hard clench of fear in his gut told him it wasn’t his physical safety—or Rabbit’s—he was protecting. If he laid it all on the line and Rabbit chose Queen City over Lynx and freedom, Lynx thought it would kill him as surely as a knife in the heart. Unable to express what he felt without giving himself away, Lynx opted for the age-old language of the Pack. He leaned over Rabbit and kissed him until his response went from lukewarm to hungry and his touch became demanding.

The lights went out while Lynx was busy kissing the inside of Rabbit’s right thigh, but that was all right. He loved the honey-gold color of Rabbit’s skin in the candle glow. Loved even more the living weight of Rabbit’s cock in his mouth, the musky male scent of him, the bitter-salt flavor of his seed when he came, his body shaking and Lynx’s name on his lips. Later, as Lynx floated between waking and sleep in Rabbit’s embrace, he heard a soft love you, Brother breathed against his hair. He tightened his arm around

Rabbit and wished for the old days, when those things were said out loud in the light of day, not whispered in the dark.

The next morning, Kathy accompanied Maryanne into the city. Rabbit took over her chores in the house. The change left Lynx feeling unbalanced and frustrated, though he couldn’t have said why. Kathy returned that night just before lights out. Maryanne didn’t. “She’ll be back tomorrow,” Kathy told the group gathered in the entry to the slave quarters. “That’s all I can say. Now get out of my way. I’m going to bed.” No one could get any more than that out of her about the reason for Maryanne’s unprecedented absence. Not even Rabbit, who was closest to her and could usually charm her into spilling the occasional bit of Queen City gossip when she had it. Maryanne returned the day after that, while Rabbit, Lynx and Michael were gathered at the front of the house eating a midday snack of apples and peanuts and talking about Michael’s ideas for improving the nutrient mix to the newgrowth area of the fields. She stopped and peered around. “Hey. Where’s Kathy? Inside?” Lynx nodded. “She’s shelling some peas for dinner, I think.” He studied the dark circles under Maryanne’s eyes. “I’m sorry, but are you all right? Ma’am?” She looked startled for a moment, then smiled at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Tired, is all.” She slapped him on the back. “See you kids at dinner.” She shuffled off, shoulders sagging with obvious exhaustion. Michael shook his head. “I don’t know what’s up with her lately,” he said once she was out of sight, “but it’s not good. I hope she didn’t catch whatever’s going around in the deeps.” Rabbit exchanged a glance with Lynx. “I wouldn’t worry about that. Emily doesn’t think it’s contagious.”

“Yeah? Well, thank God for that, anyway.” Michael leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Seriously, though, don’t you guys think she’s been acting strange lately? Like she’s got something really big on her mind?” Rabbit looked thoughtful. “She’s been under a lot of stress. The power failures and lost crops at the other farms mean there’s more pressure than ever on her to produce.” Something flickered through Michael’s eyes and was gone before Lynx could grasp it. Fear of starvation, probably. Lynx thought everyone here should develop a healthy fear of starving. Maybe it would motivate them to take action toward helping themselves. Michael popped a peanut into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Okay, I guess we’d better get back to work.” The three of them headed into the fields. Lynx allowed Michael’s longer stride to pull him ahead, so that Lynx and Rabbit were soon walking alone. Rabbit took Lynx’s hand, and Lynx wove their fingers together, trying to think of a way to ask what he wanted to ask without being too obvious. “The sickness in the deeps is getting worse,” Rabbit told him without prompting. Lynx inspected the frayed edge of the linen bandage around his hand. “How did you know I wanted to ask you that?” “Lucky guess.” Rabbit’s lips quirked into a sly smile. “I can tell you’re interested in learning the cause of this sickness. You might even have some theories about it, am I right?” Gazing into Rabbit’s eyes, those deep dark eyes that he’d loved forever, Lynx couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself. “I can’t help thinking the sickness must be connected somehow to the power loss in the deeps. I mean, it’s pretty much gone along with the power situation, right? And now, with no power, it’s gotten out of control. It just seems like the two things have to be related somehow. Emily agrees with me,” he added as Rabbit’s eyes widened.

Rabbit’s expression grew thoughtful. His gait slowed, his thumb rubbing along the side of Lynx’s hand as it always did when he was thinking while they walked together. He didn’t speak until they reached the edge of the fields. “You may be right. I’m not sure how, exactly, but it does make sense. And every day, there are more of them.” He stopped, his brows drawing together in a frown. “You know, I remember that some of the maintenance workers went down there to try and fix the power, and they ended up in the clinic, too, with the same sickness.” Lynx’s stomach rolled. “So it still might be contagious.” “Well, that’s the thing. They never came into contact with any of the sick people. They’d been warned not to. But they still got it. And I never thought much of it before, but they got better after just a short time.” Rabbit gazed at Lynx with troubled eyes. “Why did they get better so fast and those who live down there don’t?” “It’s like the longer you stay there, the worse off you are.” “I wonder…” They stared at each other, and Lynx knew they were thinking the same thing— that this wasn’t any ordinary sickness. That somehow, the loss of power must’ve caused the air in the deeps to go bad, and it was killing those who lived there. Rabbit froze in an alert, listening posture, reminding Lynx in a painful wave of nostalgia why the Seer had named him Rabbit. Letting go of Lynx’s hand, he slipped both arms around his waist and pulled him close. “Someone’s nearby,” he murmured, nuzzling Lynx’s ear. Lynx fought the instinct to go tense and forced himself to relax into Rabbit’s embrace. He raked his fingers through Rabbit’s hair. Tilted his head for the soft kisses Rabbit trailed along his neck. Mother, if only they were alone… “We can talk again after lights out.” He ran a palm down Rabbit’s back. “Rabbit, please.” He couldn’t express himself any better than that with all the jumbled emotions scrambling his brain, but Rabbit seemed to understand, just as he always had. He nodded, his cheek rubbing against Lynx’s. “I’m going to the clinic again day after

tomorrow. I’ll talk to Emily. She may have already guessed.” He patted Lynx’s rear, dropped his arms and stepped back. “All right. I promise to leave you alone now. But after lights out? You’re mine.” Oh, Mother. Lynx’s knees wobbled. He hadn’t heard that possessive growl in so long. He grinned, his first truly unguarded smile since his capture. “I’ve always been yours, Brother.” He didn’t think he imagined the way Rabbit’s eyes shone as they parted ways.

All during dinner that evening, Samuel watched Lynx with narrowed eyes. Lynx pretended not to notice, but he had to fight the urge to leap across the table and punch the other man in the face. If Samuel had something to say to him, he’d just as soon he came out and said it instead of just staring like that. After dinner, Kathy stopped Lynx with a hand on his elbow before he could follow Rabbit out the door. “Hey, help me wash up, would you? My hands are kind of bothering me tonight.” She rubbed her knuckles as if to drive home the point. Something in the set of her mouth told Lynx she had other reasons for asking him in particular to help her. Anticipation sped up his pulse. “Sure.” The cut in his hand had healed to the point where he no longer kept it bandaged except in the fields. Dishwater certainly wouldn’t hurt it. He took Rabbit’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be in in a little while.” “Okay.” Rabbit leaned over and kissed him, then turned a concerned look to Kathy. “Let me know if you want me to get something from Emily for the pain, okay?” “Yeah, all right. Thanks.” She smiled at Rabbit and patted his arm. “Now go on to the quarters. I’ll have your boy back with you in a few.” Rabbit left with a single curious glance over his shoulder. Lynx helped Kathy gather the dirty dishes into the basket, then carried it out to the washing trough.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, Lynx washing and rinsing the dishes and Kathy drying them and putting them back in the basket. He’d begun to think he’d imagined any other motive for her request when she finally spoke. “Maryanne talked to me when she got home today. She told me something, and she wanted me to tell you.” This is it. Lynx shrugged, going for casual in case he was wrong. “Okay. What is it?” Kathy looked around. Everyone but the two of them had gone to quarters. She leaned closer. “You know what you and Emily talked about the other day?” He nodded but said nothing. It wouldn’t do to mention the rebel group by name out loud where unfriendly ears might hear it. He didn’t ask how she knew either. He’d guessed long ago that she was trusted with all of Maryanne’s secrets. Kathy stared up at him, her drying cloth clutched hard in both hands. “Maryanne’s a part of it now. So am I. So are a lot of the farmers now.” “Oh.” He’d guessed as much about Maryanne. But the other farmers joining forces with the Queen’s Redemption was news to him. He rinsed the soap off one of the big serving bowls and handed it to Kathy. “I saw you talking to a man at the cave entrance the other night. Was he part of the council?” “Yep. That’s James. He runs the spinach farm. He was in the market that day and came to update us on what all the Brass was up to.” She cut him an amused look. “Sneaky bastard, ain’t you?” He laughed. “Knowing how to not be seen or heard saves your skin in the Pack.” He scrubbed the remains of lentil stew from a bowl and rinsed it before handing it to Kathy. “Emily mentioned before that they wanted Pack. She hinted that she wanted me to help recruit them. Is that what Maryanne wants me to do?” “Yeah. She’s gonna start sending you to the market to do the trading.” Kathy swiped the last of the water from the bowl and set it in the basket with the others. “She figures it’s a good way to get a feel for which slaves are on our side

and get ’em to join the cause. And Liam.” She closed her fingers around his wrist. “There’s one more thing.” Something in her voice made his stomach roll. He turned to look at her. “What?” “Maryanne and Emily have talked it over, and they both agree. They want you to recruit Rabbit.” She grabbed his arm. Her gaze held his. “Do you understand? Not just Randall. Rabbit.” He understood, all right. They not only wanted Lynx to recruit Rabbit to the rebel force, they wanted his Pack instincts and training back full force. Lynx knew why they’d asked this of him. Rabbit was well-liked among both slaves and groundhogs. He’d probably be able to recruit people who’d never give Lynx the time of day. Besides that, Rabbit enjoyed a unique position among the slaves in his work with Emily at the clinic. He could easily serve as a communication conduit between the farmers and the rest of the Queen’s Redemption by running messages between Maryanne and Emily. Yes, Lynx understood what was being asked of him. But he wasn’t sure he’d be able to manage it. He shut his eyes. “Hey.” Kathy shook his arm until he opened his eyes and looked at her again. Her expression softened into something as close to sympathy as she ever got. “If he’d do it for anyone, he’d do it for you.” She let go of his arm. “Let’s get this finished up. Not long before lights out.” “Yeah.” He fished a mug out of the suds and started swabbing it clean. “Tell Maryanne I’m in.” Kathy smiled. They finished the washing in silence.

Lynx couldn’t bring himself to broach the subject of the Queen’s Redemption with Rabbit that night. If he had to face Rabbit with this, he wanted one more night in Rabbit’s arms before the issue had the chance to drive them apart.

He screwed up his courage and approached Rabbit the next morning in the fields, where they were both working in the harvesting area. The machines nourishing the new-planting area had become finicky. Maryanne wanted to work that area herself so she could inspect them and try to figure out what was wrong. With that section covered and no other particular jobs for Rabbit to attend to, she’d assigned him to work with Lynx on the harvesting. Lynx knew she hadn’t done it merely because of the robust crop they’d had lately. He only hoped he wouldn’t let Maryanne down, or end up losing the one person here he most cared about keeping. “Maryanne’s joined the Queen’s Redemption,” he announced without preamble as Rabbit dropped a bundle of wheat in the basket. “Kathy too.” Rabbit straightened up and darted a wide-eyed look around them, though it wasn’t necessary. Lynx, paranoid about being overheard, had done that at least ten times in as many minutes. They were alone. Dropping the harvesting tool the people here called a scythe though it didn’t look like one, Rabbit stepped close enough for Lynx to see the tiny scar at the tail of his right eyebrow where he’d been hit by a rock on patrol. “How do you know?” Lynx heard no outrage in Rabbit’s voice. No anger or betrayal showed in his face. In fact, he didn’t even seem particularly surprised. A hint of fear tinted the sudden intensity in his eyes, but Lynx understood that. He was afraid too. What sane person wouldn’t be? They faced a formidable enemy, and there was so much at stake. For Lynx and Rabbit, their freedom and possibly their lives. For the people of Queen City, those things, and more besides. “Kathy told me. Last night.” Lynx thought of keeping the rest to himself. But he couldn’t. Rabbit had been his Pack Brother once. Lynx had real hope now he would be again soon. Which meant there could be no lies between them. Nothing hidden. He grasped Rabbit’s hand in his and looked into his eyes. “It’s my doing, Rabbit.” Rabbit shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“When you said you thought I’d heard something when the farmers’ council met here, you were right. I overheard them arguing about whether or not to take some kind of action on something some group they didn’t name might or might be going to do. They didn’t say who it was, but I got the feeling they were talking about the Brass.” Pain creased Rabbit’s brow. “Great Mother, Lynx.” “I know. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before.” Lynx tilted his face up to plant a soft kiss on the corner of Rabbit’s mouth. His chest ached with guilt, even though he felt he’d had valid reasons for saying nothing at the time. “I should have told you. It was wrong not to.” Rabbit laughed, the sound quiet and bitter. “No. I understand why you didn’t, and it’s entirely my fault. I’m just glad you’re talking to me now.” He cupped the back of Lynx’s head in one hand. “Go on. Tell me the rest.” Lynx pressed closer to Rabbit while he relayed his conversation with Emily at the clinic and his talk with Kathy the previous night. Somehow, it felt easier to tell the tale with his cheek against Rabbit’s and the familiar heartbeat so close to his. When he finished, Rabbit said nothing. Lynx clenched his hand in the coarse fabric of Rabbit’s shirt and waited. What else could he do? He couldn’t reveal the part Maryanne and Emily wanted Rabbit to play in this whole thing until he knew how Rabbit felt about it. If he thought the rebellion was wrong, the conversation would end here. Rabbit would take Lynx’s secrets to the grave rather than endanger him by telling anyone else, but Rabbit couldn’t be trusted to get involved unless he believed wholeheartedly in what they were doing. Finally, Rabbit stirred. Sighed. His chest expanded and contracted against Lynx’s. “When the Brass first captured me and brought me here, I was angry. So angry, at this place and everyone in it.” Lynx nuzzled behind Rabbit’s ear. “You said.” “Yes.” Rabbit stroked Lynx’s hair. “It took awhile, but eventually I realized that the people here aren’t the enemy. Maryanne, Kathy, Michael, Lisa and Samuel, Emily,

Evie and Thomas and all the other farmers, they aren’t the enemy. The Brass are.” He drew back enough to meet Lynx’s gaze. “I’ve kept my eyes closed for too long, because I was afraid to do anything about it. Afraid to get involved.” “And now?” Lynx almost didn’t want to hear the answer. But Rabbit’s jaw had the old, determined set Lynx hadn’t seen in seven years, and Mother help him, it gave him hope for the first time since he’d learned Rabbit still lived. “Now? I’m not afraid anymore. Thanks to you.” Rabbit grinned, showing teeth. “I want in.” Joy surged through Lynx’s blood. He flung his arms around Rabbit. “I love you,” he whispered in Rabbit’s ear. “Forever, do you hear? My Brother.” Rabbit’s breath hitched. He didn’t answer, but he clutched Lynx to him and held on tight.

Chapter Nine While they finished harvesting the wheat, Lynx explained to Rabbit what Maryanne and Emily wanted of him. Rabbit seemed surprised that they thought so highly of his standing in the community, but he readily agreed to recruit as many people to the rebellion as he could, and to run messages between the farm and the clinic. Somewhere during the middle of the day, Samuel cut through the harvest-ready part of the fields on his way from the mid-growth area to the house, even though the route he chose meant he had to walk farther to get where he was going. He waved as he passed Lynx and Rabbit. They waved back, but after he’d gone, they stayed away from the subject of the Queen’s Redemption or anything remotely related to it by silent agreement. Lynx didn’t like the strained quality of Samuel’s smile or the tense set of his shoulders any more than the unnecessary detour he’d taken into the area where Lynx and Rabbit were working. “We need to keep an eye on Samuel,” Lynx murmured as he and Rabbit walked back to the house for dinner that evening. Rabbit nodded, his expression grim. “I can’t believe he would actually turn us in to the Brass. But you’re right. We should be careful.” Samuel ignored them on the walk to the house. Michael fell into step on Rabbit’s other side and the three of them strolled along talking about the small day-to-day issues and minor gossip that went with life on the farm. Lynx marveled at how much he enjoyed Michael’s sharp, dry sense of humor and pointed observations about the people around them. Not so long ago, he would have laughed at the idea of feeling this comfortable with his fellow slaves. When he thought about it, it bothered him that he’d accused Maryanne and her fellow groundhogs of looking at Michael and the others as merely slaves rather than people in their own right, when in fact he was the one guilty of that attitude in his earliest days here. Now, he had to admit that Maryanne, at least, had never treated her own slaves with anything less than respect, in spite of the separate

quarters. He had no idea what the other owners were like, but he was willing to admit he’d made a mistake where Maryanne was concerned. It was enough to convince him, over the time he’d been here, that there might be more to Queen City and its citizens than he’d previously believed.

The evening meal passed much as it always did. Whatever had prompted Samuel’s interest in Lynx and Rabbit before, he seemed to have let it go now. He laughed and chatted just like the rest of the group, turning to Lisa every now and then for a quick kiss. After dinner, Maryanne hurried down the hallway toward her rooms without a word. Lisa and Samuel headed off to the slave quarters together while the rest of the group lingered beside the back door talking. Michael shook his head. “Kathy, you mind if I help you with the washing up? I’d just as soon not listen to whatever they’re about to do in there.” Kathy laughed. “Sure. I’ll gather up the dirty dishes. You go on and get the trough ready.” “Okay.” Michael waited until Kathy had gone into the little pantry next to the kitchen to get the dish basket, then grabbed Lynx’s arm. “Be careful of Samuel,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “He’s been watching you.” Before Lynx could do more than stare at Michael in shock, Kathy returned to the kitchen with her basket on her arm. Michael released his grip on Lynx. “See you guys later.” He left with a smile and wave, as if he hadn’t just given Lynx a dire warning about one of the people with whom they both lived and worked. The fact that Lynx and Rabbit had already come to the same conclusion made it more startling. Maryanne returned to the kitchen as Lynx and Rabbit were about to follow Kathy out the back door. “Just one second, boys. I’m gonna be busy in the morning, so I want to talk to you both now about tomorrow’s assignment.”

Lynx and Rabbit looked at each other. Taking Rabbit’s hand, Lynx led him across the kitchen. “What would you like us to do, ma’am?” She eyed Lynx with uncharacteristic seriousness. “Liam?” Lynx glanced at Rabbit. “He’s on board.” “Good.” She gave Rabbit’s arm a squeeze. “I’m sending both of you into town tomorrow. Randall, you’re going to the clinic like usual, but once you’re there tell Em you’re in and she’ll send you on an errand for supplies. That’ll be an excuse to talk up the merchants. Send out feelers, see who we might count on. We’re looking to take this city from the Brass, and if we do that, we need as many producers of goods on our side as we can get.” Rabbit nodded. “Got it.” “Liam, I want you to take the crop to market. Talk to the other slaves. Not the farmers’ slaves so much. Either they’re already with us, or their owners are gonna be too much of a barrier for it to be safe for you to be seen talking to them in public right now for anything but business. I’ll handle that myself. But see what you can do with the rest of ’em, particularly any Pack. Get a sense of who might be on our side and plant those seeds if you can. Okay?” “Okay.” “Great.” Reaching into the back pocket of her pants, she pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Rabbit. “Give that to Em. Kathy knows about what’s on there, but she’s the only one. Don’t let anyone else see it, and don’t let anybody spot you giving it to Em. All of us could be in deep shit if the Brass find out.” Excitement, curiosity and a tiny, cold trickle of dread pulsed in the pit of Lynx’s stomach. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rabbit nod as he tucked the paper into his own pocket. “Understood, ma’am.” She looked from Rabbit to Lynx and back again. “The power situation’s gettin’ worse all the time, and not all of us trust the Brass to handle it in a way that’s good for everyone. Or, hell, anyone but them, for that matter. I don’t think I need

to tell you boys how important your part in the Redemption is. We all gotta work together if we want to save this city.” Without another word, she turned and strode out of the kitchen into the interior of the house. The moment she was out of sight, Rabbit pulled Lynx to him in a tight embrace. “Oh, Mother, Lynx. This is huge.” Lynx wound his arms around Rabbit. Faint tremors shook the lean back beneath his hands. “Yes. It is.” He turned his head. Pressed a kiss to Rabbit’s cheek. “I’m scared too. But this is important. Not just for us, for everyone here. For Kathy, and Michael, and Emily, and Maryanne, and everyone we know and care about in this city.” He pulled back enough to look Rabbit in the eye. “We’re Pack. It’s in our blood to fight for our tribe. Until we get back home to Carwin, Queen City is our tribe. You were right before, when you said these people don’t look at us like property. That they’re good people. They are, and now they need our help. We’re going to do whatever it takes.” Rabbit’s face lit with the old familiar fire Lynx knew as well as his own name. “Because we’re Pack.” “Because we’re Pack.” Lynx smiled, his heart full. Sometimes, he’d wondered if Rabbit had forgotten who he was. Never again. “Let’s go to bed.” They left the house with their arms around each other. Michael scrunched his nose as they passed, but Lynx ignored him. Finally, he had his Brother back. No more doubts. No more reservations. Nothing could spoil the joy of this moment. Tomorrow, he and Rabbit would begin a war of stealth, unlike anything he’d experienced before. They would rise to the challenge, because they were Pack. Tomorrow. Tonight, though? Tonight was just for them.

They set out for the city center immediately after lights up the next day, stopping only long enough for a draught of water and a thick slice of Kathy’s delicious

zucchini bread. Rabbit reasoned that the fewer people around, the fewer chances of a witness to his handing Maryanne’s letter to Emily. “I wonder what it says?” Lynx mused as they walked the tunnel from Maryanne’s farm to the main cavern. To his amusement, Rabbit pulled the letter from his pocket and unfolded it. Neither of them worried much about discovery here. Anyone walking this path would send up echoes of their footfalls long before they came into sight, no matter how quietly they tread. “Em,” Rabbit began. “Got bad news the other day. Caroline’s slave Rodney was over at the pens picking up the new girl she’d bought. Rodney said Henry told him some of the Brass had been hanging around earlier, just poking around making pests out of themselves like usual, and he overheard them saying something about taking over some city aboveground. They were talking among themselves and not paying no attention to Henry, you know, they do that. Rodney says Henry told him it sounded like the Brass were planning to take some city by force, kill everyone there and move Queen City there instead.” Lynx’s heart lurched. He stopped walking, set down the cart full of wheat he’d been pulling behind him and stared at Rabbit, who glanced at him with brown eyes wide in a face gone gray. Rabbit licked his lips and kept reading. “I know we got problems here, with the power and all, but we can’t let this happen. We have to stop them. I know we weren’t planning it yet, but we have to fight, and we have to do it soon. We got good people, and we outnumber them. You’re the leader, Em. Write back and tell me what you want me to do. My people and me are ready to fight.” Rabbit fell silent. His lips pressed together in a tight line, he folded the paper again and slipped it back into his pocket. He rubbed both hands over his face. “Maybe it’s not Carwin.” Mother, Lynx hated what he had to say next, but he couldn’t keep it from his Brother. “They’ve been attacking Carwin more and more in the past several moon-cycles. They even killed a whole family and burned their fields within sight

of the city walls. In fact, that’s the reason Fox, Kitten and I were in Char to start with. We thought there might be a nest of nomads in the ruins.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I guess we were right.” “So they are targeting Carwin.” Rabbit turned his head this way and that, looking around with a desperate air. “We have to warn them.” Lynx fought a bizarre urge to laugh. “Rabbit. Calm down.” He laid his hands on Rabbit’s shoulders and gave him a light shake. “The council and Pack already know they’re under attack. It was kind of obvious.” Rabbit shook his head. “You don’t understand. The Brass have weapons Carwin doesn’t have. Things from the old world that they’ve found in older caverns and tunnels, and in the ruins. Same places they get their metal knives. Only they’ve dug up weapons a lot worse than that. Things that can let one man kill a whole bunch of men at one time.” It sounded unlikely, but still… “How do you know that?” “Michael showed me a stash of old weapons in a hidden cavern once, not long after I was brought here. I recognized some of them from old-world books.” Rabbit’s self-conscious shrug and the way his gaze slid away told Lynx why he’d followed the promise of a secret cave. Lynx mentally marked that cavern— wherever it might be—off his mental list of possible escape routes. Rabbit kept talking. “You know exactly how ruthless the Brass are. And, Lynx…” He grasped Lynx’s forearms, his grip bruising and his eyes fever bright. “I think there are more of them than they’ve allowed us to see, or know about. There’s some that live here and go aboveground from time to time, and more that spend most of their time on the surface and come down here to bring captives and reassert their power, but I think there’s a lot more of them that actually live in the ruins all the time and never set foot in Queen City at all.” Oh, Mother. “Are you sure?”

“No. But I’ve heard things. Things some of the Brass have said when they come into the clinic. Things some of the other slaves have said. Lynx, if I’m right, and those Brass in Char are still loyal to the Queen City leadership…” He didn’t need to finish the thought. If the savage gangs of cannibals roaming Char still took orders from the Brass leaders, then Carwin could be in real trouble. Carwin was strong, but it might not survive an organized attack led by people who knew what they were about and had a goal in mind, and executed by men who loved nothing better than killing for its own sake. “The Queen’s Redemption doesn’t stand a chance. If they try to fight, they’ll be massacred.” Lynx tightened his grip on Rabbit’s shoulders. “We won’t give Emily the letter. We’ll just…just walk out. We’ll escape instead and go warn the Carwin Council.” “We can’t just walk out. There’s always a Brass guard of at least six men on the tunnel to the surface, and they’re well-armed. If we had any way of taking them by surprise, maybe we could take them out or get past them without weapons, but we don’t. And I don’t know of any way to get weapons for us now that the Brass cleaned out Michael’s secret cave.” Rabbit gnawed on his lower lip for a moment, brows knitted. “Okay. Let’s do this. I’ll go to the clinic and you’ll go to the market, just like we’d planned. I’ll give Emily the letter.” He pressed his fingers to Lynx’s lips to stop his protest. “No, I have to. She needs to know about this, if nothing else. Plus, no one here knows I can read.” Now that came as a surprise. Lynx pulled Rabbit’s hand away from his mouth. “Really? Why not?” Rabbit shrugged. “You never know when a secret like that might come in handy, so I kept it, at first. After a while it just never came up, so I never said anything.” “Oh.” Lynx eyed his Brother with a smile. “Sneaky.” An answering smile curled Rabbit’s lips. “Maybe.” “So what do you think we should do? We can’t just sit on this.” Lynx rubbed the back of his neck. “And you know, we need to figure out some way of helping the

Queen’s Redemption, if we can. Their hearts are in the right place, but if they try to fight the Brass right now, they’re going to be slaughtered. We can’t let that happen.” “I agree with you.” Rabbit studied him with a cautious expression. “I think we should go to Maryanne and explain everything to her.” Fear sent Lynx’s pulse racing. “Are you serious? We can’t do that!” “Yes, we can.” Moving closer, Rabbit touched Lynx’s cheek. “I’ve known Maryanne for seven years. She won’t be happy with me that I didn’t tell her I can read, or that I read her letter to Emily, but above all else she’s a practical woman. If we swear an oath to bring the Carwin Pack back with us to help fight the Brass, she’ll help us get out of the city.” Great Mother, it was tempting, but… “We can’t promise that, Rabbit. You know as well as I do that the council probably won’t agree to let the Pack come back with us, especially after they find out the groundhogs held us both as slaves. They won’t be able to see these people the way we see them. You know that, don’t you?” “I know, but…” Rabbit let out an impatient sound. “We have to try. We don’t have a choice. If we can’t get the council to agree, maybe we can bring the Pack around and they can talk the council into it.” “And if they can’t? If nothing works and we can’t get any support for coming back here?” “Then we return alone.” Lynx studied Rabbit’s face. Rabbit’s gaze burned into his, and he recognized the warrior he’d not seen for seven years. The man who’d dedicated a lifetime to defending his city and his people. A man, Lynx realized, that he’d follow to the death, if need be. He grasped Rabbit’s hand. “I’m with you, Brother.”

A grim smile tilted the corners of Rabbit’s mouth. Leaning forward, he kissed Lynx’s lips. He tasted of determination and fear. “Let’s go, Brother. We have work to do.” Lynx pulled away from Rabbit, lifted the handles of his cart and resumed the trek toward town. Rabbit followed. Neither of them spoke again.

Maryanne was nowhere in sight when they returned that evening just in time for dinner. Lynx stored the food from the market while Rabbit went to their quarters to drop off the new candle Emily’s daughter had given him. By the time they got to the house, Michael, Lisa and Samuel had taken their place at the kitchen table and Maryanne still hadn’t arrived. Kathy just shrugged when Michael asked where she was. Lynx caught Kathy’s eye when she passed him the greens, silently asking her what was going on. She gave a minute shake of her head. Later she mouthed behind the cover of her water mug. Maryanne never did show up. Every now and then, though, Lynx caught the faint sound of voices from within the house. He knew Rabbit must’ve noticed too. After they’d eaten, Kathy leaned back in her chair with a sigh, massaging her knuckles. “Damn. Randall, did you get any more chamomile at the clinic?” “Yeah. It’s in our quarters.” He stood, his face full of concern. “I’ll go get you some.” “No, it’s okay. It ain’t that bad tonight.” Rising to her feet, she patted his back. “I’ll follow you back and grab some, though, if you don’t mind. Feels like I might need it in the morning.” Her gaze had a weight to it that had nothing to do with her words and everything to do with those faint sounds of voices during dinner. Lynx exchanged a meaningful glance with Rabbit. “Of course.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “Rabbit and me can help you wash up, if you want.”

“Naw, that’s okay. I got it.” She went to the cabinet and took out a small bowl. “Let’s get a move on. We’re running a little behind and I wanna get done before lights out.” The three of them filed outside. Their fellow slaves had already left. Lisa walked several paces ahead of Michael and Samuel, her arms crossed over her chest. The two men had their heads close together, talking. Samuel turned and shot a dark look at Rabbit and Lynx over his shoulder. Michael glanced also, a puzzled expression on his face. He flashed Lynx, Rabbit and Kathy a distracted smile before turning around again. Lynx frowned but said nothing. The need for caution was obvious. None of them needed to mention it out loud. In the slave quarters, Michael, Samuel and Lisa said good night to the others at the door to Rabbit and Lynx’s room before heading down the hallway to their own rooms. Kathy followed Lynx and Rabbit into their small chamber. Rabbit went to the table and fetched the hemp paper with the dried chamomile folded into it. “Here. Take what you need.” “Thanks.” Kathy motioned them both closer with a jerk of her head while she unfolded the paper. “Maryanne’s meeting with what’s left of the farmers’ council right now,” she murmured. “They’re in the house. She said if you have an answer back from Em, give it to me and I’ll take it to her.” Lynx glanced at Rabbit, who looked grim. He’d read Emily’s reply on the way back, of course. Emily had corroborated Henry’s story, saying a teenage boy from the deeps who’d joined the rebellion had followed two of the Brass into the outskirts of the city, hidden behind a long-abandoned building and overheard them talking about the plan to take over a city on the surface. The two men had debated whether to attack the city in a week’s time or wait a little longer so they could better organize the Queen City citizen’s for the unaccustomed aboveground trek. What had sent the boy running to Emily in a near panic, though, was the opinion one of the men expressed that taking the groundhogs and slaves was too much

trouble and the Brass should leave them behind to die when the power finally failed for good. Block up the exit to make sure they weren’t followed and begin a new life unencumbered with hundreds of weak, helpless people who couldn’t fight and had never even set foot aboveground before. It upped the stakes considerably. Lynx and Rabbit had both hoped to speak with Maryanne tonight. The sooner they could leave for Carwin, the better. Rabbit took the folded paper Emily had given him from his pocket and set it on the table. “Could you tell Maryanne that Liam and I need to talk to her as soon as possible?” “Sure.” Kathy tapped some of the chamomile into her bowl. “Does it have to do with all of this? The QR?” “Yes.” Rabbit folded the rest of the chamomile back into its paper, watching Kathy with an intent expression. “It’s urgent, Kathy.” She narrowed her eyes. “You found out something.” “Yeah.” Lynx touched Kathy’s arm. She shifted her penetrating stare to him. “We shouldn’t talk about it here.” He cut his eyes sideways toward the door. Kathy nodded. “I’ll tell Maryanne you boys need to see her soonest. It’ll probably be in the morning. I think this meeting’s probably gonna run past lights out.” Tucking the letter from Emily into her pants pocket, she took her bowl and headed for the door. “Thanks for the chamomile.” She pulled the curtain aside and walked out. Lynx went to Rabbit, took his hand and squeezed. “Tomorrow, Brother. We leave for Carwin tomorrow, with or without Maryanne’s help.” Rabbit said nothing, but the longing in the quick upward cut of his gaze was answer enough.

Lynx snapped awake in the dense darkness before lights up to the sound of stealthy movement in the slave quarters’ anteroom. He reached for his knife before remembering he no longer had it. Beside him, Rabbit tensed, and Lynx knew he’d heard it too. Soft footfalls padded past their curtain and down the hallway. Lynx heard the faint sound of a curtain being drawn aside and pulled shut again, then silence. Mother, he wished Kitten were here. He’d be able to pinpoint the exact chamber the unknown person had entered. The thought of Kitten brought with it a sharp pang of worry. Lynx wondered if he and Fox had made it back to Carwin. He hoped so. Rolling onto his side, Rabbit put his mouth close enough to Lynx’s ear to whisper barely above a breath. “Any ideas?” Lynx shook his head. “I can’t tell where they went. Could be anywhere.” “Probably someone was just emptying one of the basins.” It was a possibility. No one knew the original purpose of the four deep, narrow pits in the rock about thirty paces away from the slave quarters, but they made handy places to empty out the waste basins. The thing was, no one did that in the dark. Too much danger of falling into one of the pits. Neither Lynx nor Rabbit said it out loud, but Lynx knew what they were both thinking—that the footsteps they’d heard hadn’t gone to the washroom at the back. Just as he knew they both suspected the identity of the person they’d heard.

They lay awake without speaking again until lights up. Lynx wanted to rise, dress and go to the house to see if Maryanne was up. He figured Rabbit did, too, but neither dared in case whoever had been stirring before heard them and guessed they’d heard him—or her?—return from their secret errand, whatever it was.

When the sunlamps outside kicked on, Lynx stood and stretched. “Let’s go to the house. I’m starved.” “Me too. If we hurry, we can get some leftover bread before anyone else does.” Rabbit shot Lynx a look loaded with meaning as he rose and started pulling on his clothes. Lynx gave his Brother a single nod. Grabbing his pants from the corner where he’d left them folded, Lynx slipped them on, then picked up his shirt. They would eat and drink, certainly. Carwin was a long walk from here, with no guarantee of food or water. But they both knew that wasn’t why they wanted to go to the house right now, just as they both knew they shouldn’t say so out loud. The walls had ears, and there was no safe place to talk anymore. They met Kathy coming into the hallway as they left their room. She greeted them with a brief nod. “Morning. Maryanne wants to see you two.” They glanced at each other. “Any idea why?” Rabbit asked, in case anyone else was listening. The twist of Kathy’s lips said she knew why Rabbit had asked. She hitched up one thin shoulder. “How do I know? I just work here.” Down the hallway, voices floated from Lisa and Samuel’s compartment. Kathy turned and strode toward the doorway. “Come on.” Lynx followed, Rabbit at his heels. Outside, Rabbit took Lynx’s hand and clasped it tight. Lynx pressed Rabbit’s fingers. Maryanne waited for them at the kitchen table. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, her face grayish and blue shadows bruising the skin beneath her eyes. She gestured toward the empty chairs with one hand. “Sit down, boys. Have somethin’ to eat.” They sat side by side opposite Maryanne. Rabbit took the pitcher of tomato juice in the middle of the table and poured him and Lynx each a mugful. “Thank you for seeing us, ma’am.”

“Kathy said it was urgent.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “Did Em tell you what’s going on?” “Yes.” Rabbit darted a nervous, wide-eyed look at Lynx, who squeezed his knee under the table. “But she didn’t have to. I read the letter you sent her. And I read the one she sent back to you.” Silence. Maryanne stared at Rabbit, her lips pressed together in a tight line. Lynx drank from his mug and did his best to rub some of the tension from Rabbit’s thigh. “I didn’t know you could read,” Maryanne said finally. Her fingers curled around her own mug. “You know damn well I never would’ve sent that with you if I’d thought you’d read it.” She was angry. That much came through loud and clear. But the hurt in her voice made Lynx feel even worse. “I’m sorry. I truly am sorry I kept that from you.” To Lynx’s surprise, Rabbit reached across the table to touch Maryanne’s wrist. “But I’m not sorry I read those letters. Ma’am—Maryanne—Lynx and I think the Brass mean to invade Carwin. Our home city. And we think there might be a lot more Brass marching on the city than they could possibly expect, or plan for.” “We need to warn them,” Lynx added. “And if the Brass are really planning to block the entry tunnel and leave all of you here to die when the power fails, then the people of Queen City are going to have to take the fight to them before they can bring it to you. Which means you’ll need help.” She pursed her lips. “Look, I know you boys were Pack, and I know you were gonna try and recruit more former Pack for us, and that’s great, but it’s not gonna do much good in an all-out war, is it?” She scraped at a spot on the table with her thumbnail. “I’ve read about wars, in books about the old world. If that’s what it’s gonna be like, I don’t think we stand much of a chance.”

“He didn’t mean just us.” Rabbit licked his lips and grasped Lynx’s hand with his free one. “Help us get out of Queen City. We’ll go back to Carwin. We can warn them about the coming attack, then bring back our Pack to help fight the Brass.” “We’ve fought them our whole lives. They’re brutal, they’re ruthless and cruel, but we’re better than them.” Lynx leaned against Rabbit’s shoulder. “Please, ma’am. We’ll swear a blood oath to you to bring our Pack with us, or return ourselves to fight alongside you.” Rabbit nodded. His hand shook in Lynx’s grip. “We’ll die to defend the freedom of Queen City, if that’s what it takes.” “We took you from your homes. Made slaves out of you.” She shook her head. “I don’t see why you’d come back here.” “You didn’t do those things. The Brass did.” Lynx rubbed circles on Rabbit’s hand with his thumb. “Carwin is our tribe, but now Queen City is, too, and Pack always defend their tribe.” For a moment, she watched the two of them without a word, her fingers tapping on the table. Voices drifted from outside as the other slaves headed for the fields. “All right. Here’s what we’ll do.” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “I’m gonna tell everyone that Em wanted you in the clinic. Everybody knows there’s been an outbreak of sickness from the deeps and the clinic’s been overrun. Randall, nobody’ll think anything of you being called in to help. As for Liam, well…” She waved one hand in the air as if trying to pull the answer out of nothing. “I have some training in healing. All Pack do.” Lynx grinned as the fact that Maryanne had just agreed to help them sank in. “With the clinic as busy as it was last time I was there, I think it would be reasonable to think Rab—I mean, Randall—would suggest to Emily that she ask you to let me help out.” One corner of Maryanne’s mouth quirked upward. “You can use your Pack names. I know you want to.”

Lynx felt his cheeks heat. He still had a hard time calling his Brother anything but Rabbit. Rabbit squeezed Lynx’s hand. “That’s true. The clinic’s so full they’re having trouble finding space for everyone. If it weren’t urgent for us to get to Carwin and bring back the Pack, I really would suggest bringing in Lynx to help out.” Maryanne’s half-smile faded. “How bad is this sickness? Em said it was gettin’ worse all the time, but she doesn’t think it’s contagious.” “It’s bad. Six more citizens from the deeps died yesterday. Most of the deaths have been among young children and older people, or those who already had some kind of illness.” Rabbit glanced at Lynx for a second before turning back to Maryanne. “We think it’s tied in with the power problems somehow. That the power loss in the deeps has made the air go bad.” “Dear God, I hope you’re wrong. But I don’t think you are.” She rubbed both hands over her face. “Did you tell Em?” Rabbit nodded. “Yesterday.” She sighed. Raked her hands through her hair so that it stood up in a hundred random directions. “Damn. I’m really afraid you’re right. You know the emergency meeting of the farmers’ council yesterday? What’s left of us, anyway. It was about the power situation. We got a few cycles left, maybe a year at the outside, before the machines that power this city give up altogether.” Icy claws dug into Lynx’s gut. “You know this for sure?” “Yeah. Farmers have to know the power supply, because we count on the sunlamps to keep the crops growing.” Shoulders hunched, she picked at the spot on the table again. “Evie’s one of the ones who work with some of the Brass on keepin’ the machines runnin’. She told us yesterday that the machines are close to failing.” “And they can’t be fixed?” Lynx knew the answer, really, but he had to ask.

Maryanne shook her head. “Those things are hundreds of years old. The founders built ’em to last, and they have lasted. But nobody knows how to fix ’em if something goes bad wrong. We don’t have the tools anymore. Hell, nobody’s completely sure how some of ’em even work anymore. The ones that provide actual power are already failing. Once those go, so do the other ones—the ones that circulate the air, pump the waste heat to the surface, feed the crops… All of ’em.” She sighed. “I’m guessin’ that’s why the Brass want to ditch this place and go somewhere else. But damn, they can’t just take over another city. It ain’t right. And it ain’t right to leave us here to die, neither.” “All the more reason for us to get out as fast as we can and bring back help.” Rabbit let go of Lynx’s hand and wrapped both of his around his mug of juice. “If the power’s truly failing, and the Brass know it, then we don’t have any time to waste.” “Okay.” She stood, her chair scraping against the bare stone of the floor. “You two eat some bread and drink that juice. God only knows when you’ll get another chance at anything to eat or drink. I’m gonna go write Em another letter, to tell her the plan. Then I’ll tell you two how to get out of the city without being seen. You’re gonna have to take Em the letter first, then let her help you slip out later on. All right?” “Yes, ma’am.” Lynx rose to his feet. “Thank you.” She let out a short, sharp laugh. “Don’t thank me ’til you get out alive.” Picking up her mug, she drained it, set it down and strode out of the room. Lynx sank back into his chair. “Well. That’s that, then.” “Yes.” Rabbit framed Lynx’s face in both hands and kissed him. “Don’t worry, my Brother. This is why we’re here. Why the Mother sent me here seven years ago. To deliver this city.” Another kiss, soft and slow. “The Great Mother will protect us.” Certainty filled Rabbit’s whispered words, but faint tremors shook his fingers as they mapped the line of Lynx’s jaw. Lynx opened his mouth and clung to Rabbit’s

shoulders, telling him without words that his Brother was there for him to lean on. After all, when all was said and done, what did they have, really, but each other?

Emily didn’t seem surprised by Maryanne’s letter. Why that should surprise Lynx, he had no idea, but it did. Maybe he’d underestimated her. “I think I know the route Maryanne plans for you to take out of the city,” she murmured while loading up trays of stomach-soothing herbs for the two of them to dispense to the ever-increasing numbers of sick patients crowding the clinic. “It’s impossible to tell exactly when the Brass will be around in the main cavern. But they’re less likely to be in the city during the middle of the day. Our patients should mostly be resting within the hour, God willing. Poor souls.” She shot a sympathetic look down the double row of cots filled with men, women and children curled up and holding their stomachs. “Go around the back of the building, just in case, and follow the path to the tunnel leading to the deeps. You shouldn’t run into anyone once you start downward. If what I’m hearing is correct, the deeps have been completely evacuated at this point.” Rabbit nodded, his expression solemn. Neither he nor Lynx relished the idea of venturing into the dangerous deeps to journey to the surface, but they had no choice. Maryanne knew of no other way out, other than the main tunnel used by the Brass. They couldn’t even approach the entrance without being seen, never mind get inside. And Maryanne had told them this morning that the Brass had guards posted at various points inside the tunnel as well. Even if they achieved the impossible by making it past the guards at the entrance and into the passage, they’d never get through the whole thing alive. “If we can identify where we are when we emerge in Char, it’ll probably take us a couple of days to get back to Carwin, then another couple of days to return with the Pack. We’ll have to convince our tribal council to let us bring the Pack with us, though, and I’m not sure how long that’ll add to the time.” Rabbit laid a hand on Emily’s arm when the look in her eyes turned hard. “Emily. We swore to

Maryanne, and we swear the same to you—we won’t desert Queen City, or the Queen’s Redemption. We’ll bring our Pack if we can, but even if we can’t, Lynx and me will come back. We’ll fight with you.” “We’ll help free you, or die with you,” Lynx added, because he hated the thought of Emily and her daughter and the sick children from the deeps living under the thumb of the Brass any longer. Emily’s head bowed. Her thin shoulders rounded. “Thank you.” With what seemed to Lynx a great effort, she straightened up, a wavering smile on her lips. She curled a cool, dry hand around each of their wrists. “All right. Let’s get these people their medications, shall we? Then I’ll see what supplies I can find to send with you on your journey. You never know what you might need.” She pushed to her feet, rubbing at her eyes with one hand. Rabbit touched Lynx’s knee, gave him a faint smile and stood to help Emily with her rounds. Lynx sat there another moment, staring at the woven reed tray full of medicinal herbs on his lap. Mother, help us. Help us save this city, and our tribe. From the narrow space between the rows of cots, Rabbit stopped and looked back at him, eyebrows raised. Lynx stood and followed his Brother.

They slipped out of the clinic a couple of hours later, after most of the patients had settled into a restless sleep. Rabbit carried a canvas satchel packed with bread, fruit, a water skin made from some tough plant fiber, and several different healing herbs. Emily said if anyone caught them heading for the deeps, they should say she’d sent them in with supplies for a woman who had refused to leave, the mother of one of her current patients. She’d even given them a scribbled note with her signature on it to lend credibility to the story. Unnecessary, as it turned out. They slipped through the narrow alleyways at the outskirts of the city all the way to the tunnel leading into the deeps without drawing any undue attention.

The air smelled strange. Not bad, exactly, but…odd. Stifled. Like there wasn’t enough of it. “I don’t like it,” Lynx said, though he went in anyway because they had no choice. “How far is it to this side tunnel of Maryanne’s?” She’d told them to look for the eleventh cut in the right-hand wall after the floor started to slope steeply downward. Apparently the road to the deeps wasn’t as smooth as the one leading to Maryanne’s farm. However, she hadn’t given any indication as to how far they’d have to travel before they reached the old, forgotten passageway to the surface. Lynx hoped it wasn’t far. He couldn’t shake the images of the sick and dying out of his head. “It’s about a fifteen-minute walk, I think.” Rabbit slipped his hand into Lynx’s. “I can lead the way. I’ve been down here before.” “No. The power’s out down here. In a few minutes, it’ll be too dark for you to see, but I’ll still be able to pick up some light from the main cavern. That’s why we decided I’d take the lead in the first place, right?” Lynx gave Rabbit a faint smile and squeezed his hand. “Your hearing’s better than mine. You’ll have to listen out for anyone following while I look for the side passage. And it’ll take both of us to get past the blockage at the entrance, if it’s like Maryanne said.” “It must be. I’ve walked right past that spot before and never known that tunnel was there.” Rabbit rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. He opened his mouth. Closed it again without expressing what Lynx knew they both thought in their hearts. What if it’s not there? What if we can’t find it? What if we can’t get through? Words had power. No sense in giving life and weight to their doubts by speaking them out loud when only one other option existed—if they couldn’t escape this way, they’d get out through the main exit or die trying. Lifting Rabbit’s hand, Lynx planted a kiss on his knuckles. Rabbit smiled, reassuring and nervous. Beneath their feet, the tunnel floor tilted downward into blackness.

In the end, Lynx had to trail one hand along the wall as he walked in order to distinguish shadows of stone outcroppings from true gaps in the rock. The backand-forth twist of the passage combined with the steep grade kept the light filtering from above to a bare minimum. Even Lynx’s eyes had a difficult time picking out anything beyond faint shapes and outlines. Worse, the farther down they went, the more his head ached and the harder it got to breathe. Beside him, Rabbit panted and staggered with every step. He stumbled now and then, even fell once. He only scraped his palm, but it made Lynx worry about worse injuries. Neither of them could afford to get hurt down here. Everything depended on them getting to Carwin as quickly as possible. He leaned against the wall, fighting off a wave of nausea and dizziness. If either of them had ever doubted the theory of bad air in the deeps, Lynx knew they didn’t doubt any longer. “We just passed the ninth cut. Two more.” “Good. We’re almost…” Rabbit stopped, holding his belly. “Almost there. The next two are really close together and not far from this one, if I remember right.” He groaned. “Great Mother.” Lynx hooked his arm through Rabbit’s. “Let’s hope the air in the tunnel to the surface is better than it is here.” Rabbit nodded. “We should hurry.” Nodding, Lynx started forward again. His head swam and his stomach churned, but he forced himself to concentrate on the play of the shadows on the wall beside him, the feel of the stone beneath his fingers. If he missed the passageway, he and Rabbit could die down here. Carwin would have no warning of the coming attack, and the people of Queen City would have no way to stop the Brass from carrying out their plan. The tenth cut gaped only a few paces beyond the ninth. It was narrow, with no airflow, like most of the others. The eleventh opened at an angle, facing toward the deeps so that Lynx nearly missed it. A faint draft of cool air flowed from above his head. It smelled relatively fresh.

Lynx stopped and explored the outlines of the cut with his hand. “We’ll have to go through one at a time.” “Maryanne said it was blocked a little ways in. Can you feel it?” “Hang on.” Letting go of Rabbit, Lynx gripped an edge of rock in one hand and reached the other into the opening in the cavern wall. His fingers met unyielding stone before he’d straightened his arm all the way. “I feel it.” He ran his palm over the barrier, trying to get a sense of it. “It feels pretty solid. Definitely not just a fall of smaller stones or anything.” “Fuck.” Rabbit drew a shaky breath, coughed and leaned against the wall. “So how do we get around it?” That question had no immediately obvious answer. But the whisper of fresh air from above still touched Lynx’s cheek. Somewhere on the other side of that boulder lay a way out of here. Lynx had to find it. Shaking his head to dispel the lightheadedness, he slid his hand over the stone. It curved at the edges, forming deep chinks between the barrier and the cavern wall. Lynx’s heart leapt into his throat when he realized he felt a faint, cool air trickling through the gaps. “I think this is one big boulder that someone put here. This is it, though, for sure. There’s fresher air on the other side.” He backed out of the opening and grasped Rabbit’s wrist. “We can’t move the boulder and there’s no room on either side. We’ll have to go over the top.” Rabbit nodded, the movement barely visible in the near-perfect blackness. “You go first. I’ll help you get to the top, and you can clear any obstruction then go through and see how things are.” The plan made sense. Lynx’s superior sight would allow him to better assess how they were to get over the top of the barrier. Also, if there was any light on the other side, he could size up the situation there. Still…

“Maybe I should just clear it out if it needs it, then have a look at the other side to make sure it’s safe and let you go over first.” He slid his arm around Rabbit’s waist when Rabbit hunched over in obvious pain. “I know you’re a better climber normally, but I think you might need me to help you right now.” The brief silence that followed spoke volumes. With a frustrated sigh, Rabbit rested his head against Lynx’s. “You’re strong enough to climb over on your own?” Mother, I hope so. Lynx rested a hand on Rabbit’s cheek. “Yes. And before you ask, no, my hand won’t be a problem. It’s mostly healed now. Come on, boost me up so I can see what we need to do to climb over.” Rabbit sidled past Lynx into the opening and knelt before the rock, one knee up. Steadying himself by grasping Rabbit’s hand, Lynx stepped onto Rabbit’s solid thigh and planted his other foot on Rabbit’s shoulder. He felt along the stone. Just above his head, the cavern ceiling dipped downward. The boulder blocking their way continued to rise underneath the dip. Releasing Rabbit’s hand, Lynx balanced himself with a palm on the wall and ran the other hand over the cold rock, back and forth, ever higher. Almost at the limit of his upward reach, his fingertips met empty space. Instantly, his pulse raced and his mouth went dry. He stared as hard as he could, but none of the meager light penetrated beneath the stone hood dropping from the ceiling. He twisted enough to look downward. “Rabbit, I need to get a little higher up. Can you hold me if I stand on your shoulders?” “Yeah.” Rabbit’s face showed as a vague grayish blur in the gloom. “What did you find?” “An opening, I think. I just need to get a better look at it.” He laughed, the sound tense and nervous and too loud in the stillness of the cave. “Well, maybe look is the wrong word. I can’t see a Mother-damned thing up here.”

Rabbit said nothing. He didn’t need to. Lynx knew neither of them relished the idea of fumbling their way to the surface through an unfamiliar tunnel in which even he was blind. Planting both palms flat on the stone for balance, Lynx stepped up onto Rabbit’s shoulders. He felt Rabbit’s muscles tighten under his feet. Rabbit’s hands came up to grasp his calves, holding him steady. He glanced downward. “Rabbit? You okay?” “Fine. I’ve got you. Go ahead.” The strain of holding Lynx’s weight came through in Rabbit’s voice, but it didn’t sound as though he was in any distress. It’s been seven years since he’s fought as part of the Pack. And he’s weak right now. Sick. For a moment, Lynx hesitated, wondering if he should take Rabbit at his word. He’d never forgive himself if Rabbit didn’t make it because Lynx had expected too much of him. In those brief seconds, Lynx remembered Rabbit as he’d known him before. The man with the strength not only to fight when he had to, but to own up to his own weaknesses, few though they may have been. Rabbit had never once endangered his Brothers by pretending to abilities he didn’t have. Lynx had to trust him to hold to the same code of honor now. With Rabbit’s hands strong and steady on his legs, Lynx reached up to feel along the top of the rock. It was rough and uneven. His fingers hit a smaller stone a few inches to the left. He gave it a shove and it tumbled away into the darkness on the other side. The echo of its fall told of a large space on the other side, and Lynx’s spirits rose. He found other rocks stacked along the top of the large boulder. A little persistent pressure sent all of them into the void beyond. Each time, the cool draft on Lynx’s face grew stronger.

Once he’d dislodged every loose stone he found, Lynx felt around the borders of the gap. It wasn’t large, but he and Rabbit could squeeze through. He stuck an arm through. It met no resistance, so he braced his elbow on the edge of the stone and leaned his head in as far as he could. The darkness here was just as complete as in the passageway to the deeps, but he didn’t care. The air smelled clean and wonderful. He breathed it deep into his lungs and felt his head clear. “There’s an opening at the top. There were a few rocks mostly blocking it up, but I cleared them out. We shouldn’t have any trouble getting through.” Moving carefully so he wouldn’t hurt Rabbit, Lynx stepped back onto Rabbit’s thigh then down to the ground. He took Rabbit’s hand and helped him to his feet. “I couldn’t see anything over there. Too dark. Be careful.” “I will.” Rabbit pulled Lynx close and kissed him. “See you on the other side, Brother.” Lynx’s throat closed up. He kissed Rabbit one more time, hard and fast, then let him go and lowered himself to one knee. Rabbit climbed onto Lynx’s shoulders. Lynx was about to ask if Rabbit wanted him to stand for an extra boost, when Rabbit’s feet dug in hard for a second before his weight lifted away altogether. Lynx twisted his head to stare into the blackness above him. Rabbit’s legs swung through the aperture and vanished. “Rabbit, let me know you’re okay!” For a heart-stopping moment Lynx heard nothing but the rush of his own heartbeat in his skull. Then Rabbit’s muffled voice floated from the far side of the barrier. “I’m fine. Watch yourself on this side. It’s not a drop, it’s a long slope. You can’t stand up on it.” Relieved, Lynx smiled. “Okay, I’ll be careful. I’m coming over now.” Positioning himself close to the boulder so he wouldn’t hit his head on the overhanging ceiling, Lynx jumped and caught the edge of the barrier. He heaved himself up, feet scrambling on the rough stone, swung his legs over the top and eased himself down the other side.

Rabbit was right. The way down was nothing but a slope of loose stones and debris Lynx couldn’t identify in the dark. Since he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand, he sat and slid down the pile of rubble, using his hands to steady himself. When his feet hit the bottom, he rose and peered into the blackness. “Rabbit? Where are you?” “Here.” Footfalls shuffled across the floor, kicking unseen litter out of the way, and Rabbit slid both arms around Lynx’s waist. “You okay?” “Yeah. Not a scratch.” Lynx pulled Rabbit close and buried his face in Rabbit’s neck. Mother, he smelled good, sweat and dust and the promise of freedom. Lynx kissed the warm, damp skin where Rabbit’s pulse jumped. “What about you? Are you feeling better now? The air’s definitely fresher here.” Rabbit nodded. “Stomach cramps are already fading, and my head’s stopped hurting.” “Same for me.” Lynx drew away, sliding one hand down Rabbit’s arm to link with Rabbit’s. Rabbit laced his fingers through Lynx’s. “Can you see anything?” Lynx squinted into the blackness. Somewhere ahead, a suggestion of a fainter grayness teased his eye. “Not yet. But I will.” He squeezed Rabbit’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They made their way forward step by slow, careful step. After a few paces of flat, uneven floor, the path began to climb steadily upward in a fairly steep grade. Nothing moved but the detritus stirred by their feet. As they went, Lynx got the sense of increasing space. Each time one of them sent some ancient bit of wood or metal skittering along the floor, the sound of it echoed around and above them. Every time they spoke, their words seemed to bounce off a ceiling and walls farther away than before. The whole thing made Lynx desperately curious to see the place.

Maryanne hadn’t said whether or not the passageway branched. Maybe she didn’t know. Lynx trailed his fingertips along the left-hand wall as they went, but the tunnel was too wide for Rabbit to do the same on the other wall, and both agreed the danger of losing one another in the dark outweighed the potential advantages of exploring both sides of the passageway at once. So they kept their hands clasped together and hoped the main passage was the one leading to the surface. Long after Lynx had lost count of how many paces they’d traveled, he realized he could make out vague shapes. Something large and pale loomed from the dark on the other side of the tunnel, in one of the occasional flat spots. He looked down just in time to watch his own foot kick a bottle similar to Bear’s out of the way. It tumbled along the floor with a light scuffling noise. He turned to Rabbit and grinned when he saw the blur of Rabbit’s face. “I can see.” “Light. Thank the Mother.” Rabbit smiled. His grip on Lynx’s hand tightened. “I can’t see a thing, but if you can, then we must be on the right track.” He stopped, forcing Lynx to stop too. “What do you see? What does it look like?” Lynx peered around him. Now that his eyes had learned the way the minimal light fell on their surroundings, he noticed things he wouldn’t have a few moments ago. The object he’d seen before on the far side of the passageway resolved itself into a white metal shape that Lynx had never thought to see outside one of the books Rabbit used to find in Carwin now and then. “There’s one of those machines the ancients used to travel around in. Over there.” Lynx pointed, though he knew Rabbit couldn’t see him. “A car?” Rabbit spun in the general direction Lynx indicated, eyes wide and unfocused. “Oh, Mother. I wish I could see it.” “I know. I’m sorry.” Lynx studied the floor and the wall beside him. “I can’t tell what kind of place this used to be. I can’t see the ceiling or the other wall. But I think…” He squinted into the gloom on the far side of the car thing, farther up the

tunnel and back the way they’d come until the faint light vanished. “Yeah. There’s more cars in here. And a lot of stuff all over the floor. That’s about it, right now. I’m sure we’ll see more as we go along.” With no reason to stay, they pressed on. As they walked, the light grew stronger and the flat spaces more frequent. Cars sat rusting here and there. Human skeletons, disarticulated over the centuries, lay beside some and spilled out the open sides of others. The decayed remains of bags and clothing littered the ground. Knowing he was looking at the carcasses of the ancients and their machines gave Lynx a peculiar sensation in the pit of his stomach. It felt more personal than the buildings in Char. More personal even than the books Lynx couldn’t read. Part of him wished they could stay and explore this place for a while. Find whatever secrets lay buried here. But time was short, and tribal law discouraged curiosity about the old world in any case. The tunnel dead-ended at a huge metal wall. Light poured through holes in the metal. High over their heads, several tremendous windows in the stone above the metal wall let in a flood of sunshine. Lynx laid both hands on the metal. It felt warm beneath his palms. “There has to be a way out. There was no other exit along the way.” “And all these cars got in here somehow, all that time ago.” Rabbit walked alongside the wall, studying it with what Lynx thought was remarkable calm, considering. “Look, there’s handles on this thing. I wonder what they’re for?” Lynx looked. Sure enough, the wall had several large, sturdy handles attached at intervals along the bottom. He looked up. Metal tracks ran along the ceiling, connecting with the edge of the wall. No, not a wall. “A door,” he murmured. “This is a door.” Rabbit stared at him. “What?”

“A door. This whole thing, this wall…” Lynx gestured at it. “It’s a door, Rabbit. Look at it.” Rabbit did. His eyes went wide. “Great Mother.” He swallowed. “It doesn’t do us any good, though. We can’t open it.” “No, you’re right.” Lynx spun in a circle. He saw no other way out. Nothing but the hulks of cars and scattered bones. It was frustrating. They were so close, there must be some other way out of here. “Okay, you look over there.” He pointed to the right side of the passage. “I’ll look on the other side. If neither of us can find another way out, we’ll have to try this door.” Rabbit nodded, his expression solemn. They split up and began the search.

After a short search Rabbit found the door, a narrow opening hidden behind a large yellow car wedged into the corner at the edge of the tremendous metal door. It took their combined strength to force the small door open. It squealed and screeched and wouldn’t budge more than the span of a man’s forearm, but it was enough to let them through. Lynx went through first. He didn’t recognize the area. The sun hung about three hours above the horizon in the west. A warm, damp breeze brought the smell of rain to come. “Oh, Mother.” Rabbit stepped outside and raised his face to the sky. The wind ruffled his hair. He put a hand to his head as if he didn’t know what to think of the sensation. “I never… I thought…” Seven years. Great Mother. Lynx touched his Brother’s cheek. “Rabbit?” Closing his eyes, Rabbit dropped to his knees and dug his fingers into the dusty ground. Lynx knelt beside him and rubbed his back until his shoulders stopped shaking.

Chapter Ten The farm’s sunlamps were no match for the Mother’s own light. By the time the sun set, Rabbit’s nose and forearms had turned a deep pink and his face became set in a squint against the brightness. He didn’t breathe a word of complaint, though Lynx knew it had to bother him after so many years underground. Rabbit wanted to push straight through to Carwin without stopping. At first Lynx agreed. Without weapons, they had to worry more about the Brass gangs wandering the ruins. But when Rabbit’s steps slowed and his shoulders bowed in the suffocating Char heat the next day, Lynx put his foot down and called a halt. He found a ruined building with a hidden, easily defended room, and the two of them ducked inside. “We’ll rest for a little while, then keep going through the night.” Lynx handed Rabbit the water and some dried apple, then settled beside him on the blanket they’d spread on the floor. He peered around them at the close, dark space and the vine-covered piles of rubble outside the crack in the wall. “I know this area. We’re closer to Carwin than I thought we’d be. We ought to make it home by tomorrow morning.” “Home.” Rabbit rested his head against the dirty bricks behind him. “It’s been so long, Lynx.” Years of longing and fear came through in Rabbit’s soft voice and the way he sucked on his bottom lip. Lynx ached for him. He rested a hand on Rabbit’s thigh. “Not much has changed. We have a few new Brothers. Lost a few.” Pain creased Rabbit’s brow. Lynx squeezed his leg. “I found your knife.” Rabbit lifted his head and stared at Lynx, dark eyes full of a fire only Pack would understand. “My knife?” Lynx nodded. “One of the Brass had it. They attacked our patrol in Char and I found the knife after we’d killed them all and were getting ready to burn the bodies. We hung it in the memory tree.”

“The tree.” Rabbit let out a quiet laugh. “Of course. I was dead, wasn’t I?” He rested his back against the wall again with a sigh. “Let it stay there. I’ll get another one.” Lynx said nothing. He thought he understood. A knife was more than a weapon— it was a part of you. When a man’s life changed the way Rabbit’s had, his old weapon would no longer feel right in his hand. Lynx didn’t mourn the loss of his own knife too much, for that very reason. Following the need to erase the lines of sadness on Rabbit’s face, Lynx leaned over and kissed him. Did it again, because Rabbit’s low, hungry moan set his blood simmering. He opened his mouth wide for Rabbit’s tongue, dug his fingers into Rabbit’s hair and hung on. When Rabbit reached for him, he went into his Brother’s embrace gladly. He straddled Rabbit’s lap, his knees planted on the dusty floor to either side of Rabbit’s hips. “I love you,” he whispered against Rabbit’s lips. He stroked Rabbit’s face, still marveling after all this time that he could. That his Brother was here, warm and alive, for him to touch and kiss and clutch between his legs at night. “Fuck me.” Rabbit didn’t answer in words. Cheeks flushed and eyes heavy-lidded, he ran one hand up the back of Lynx’s shirt and buried the other in his hair, angling his head for a deep kiss. Lynx let himself fall into it. If this was the last time he and Rabbit would love each other in private, he intended to savor every moment.

Afterward, Rabbit fell asleep with his arm tucked tight around Lynx’s waist and one bare leg slung over Lynx’s thighs. Lynx lay awake staring at the cobwebs on the ancient wall and listening for any sounds of pursuit from outside. He felt no need for sleep, and one of them should keep watch.

Besides, this might be the last time he got to lie quiet in Rabbit’s embrace and feel the slow rise and fall of his Brother’s chest against his back without the Pack surrounding them. Selfish. Sighing, he wriggled onto his back to relieve the tingling pain where he’d been lying too long on his right leg. Rabbit clutched him closer, nuzzled his cheek and stilled again with a contented hum. Throat tight, Lynx rested one hand on his Brother’s thigh and looped the other around Rabbit’s upper arm. He’d deal with his own un-Pack-worthy possessiveness once they reached Carwin. First they had to get there.

As Lynx expected, they reached the walls of Carwin just after sunrise the next morning. Their arrival caused a predictable uproar. Catfish, on watch at the gate, waved wildly at them and called the signal for a returning patrol. A matter of seconds later, half the Pack swarmed out the gate. The men hurried toward them, some calling Rabbit’s name. Their faces registered shock and joy. “Oh, Great Mother.” Grinning, Wolf ran ahead of the crowd, gathered both of them into his thick arms and lifted them off their feet. “Lynx! We thought we’d lost you. Fox said…” He stopped, dropped them, grabbed Lynx’s face and kissed him hard. His rugged features softened when he turned to Rabbit, his eyes full of all the things Lynx had felt when he first learned Rabbit was alive. “All these years, we thought you were dead. And now you’ve come back to us.” He touched Rabbit’s face, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was true. “Welcome home, Brother.” His voice broke. Gathering Rabbit close, he kissed him too, slow and deep. Rabbit’s spine stiffened for a moment, then he relaxed into Wolf’s enthusiastic welcome. He smiled when Wolf drew away. “It’s good to be back home, Brother.” Watching Rabbit’s beaming expression, Lynx told himself he was happy—happy to be back with his Pack, happy to have brought Rabbit back as well. Then the rest of

his Brothers descended on them and drove away the troubling doubts in the back of his mind with their touches and kisses and their infectious joy at having Lynx and Rabbit home. “So, Brother.” Owl slung an arm around Rabbit’s neck as they all walked back through the gate and into the city. “Where have you been all these years? How did you survive?” He touched Rabbit’s collar. “And what in the Mother’s name is this? On both of you.” Rabbit glanced at Lynx, who gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. They’d discussed this on the trek here. “It’s all kind of a long story,” Rabbit answered after just enough of a silence to make Owl frown at them both. “The story of where I’ve—we’ve—been is all bound up with what these collars are about.” “We’re going to need to tell you and the council both.” Lynx peered down the town’s main road toward the council building. “And there’s not much time. I know everyone’s anxious to hear about Rabbit, but right now Rabbit and I need to see the council immediately, and we need you and Wolf to come with us.” Owl’s frown deepened. “This has something to do with the nomads. Fox said they’d taken you.” So Fox had made it back alive. Lynx looked around. Kitten was nowhere to be seen. And Owl hadn’t mentioned him. Mother, no. His grief for his youngest Brother would have to wait for later. Ignoring the raw pain in his chest as best he could, Lynx nodded. “They did, and it does.” He touched Owl’s arm where it rested on Rabbit’s shoulders. “This is urgent, Owl. Carwin’s in danger. We have to let the council know.” Owl studied Lynx for a moment with his familiar calm, penetrating gaze, then gave a single short nod. He gestured to one of the Pack trainees hanging around the edges of the crowd, a wily child too curious for his own good and too clever for anyone else’s. The boy trotted over, bobbed his head at Owl and stared at Rabbit, dark eyes wide with awe. “Yes, Brother Owl?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Owl’s mouth. “Raccoon, please go to the council chambers and tell the attendant on duty that we have two Brothers who’ve come directly from the field and need to speak to the council urgently. They’ll need food, wine and chairs for the meeting. We’re on our way there in a moment. Do you understand?” “Yessir.” Raccoon turned to Lynx and beamed. “Welcome back, Brother Lynx.” He glanced at Rabbit as if he’d seen a ghost. Which he might as well have, considering Rabbit had only ever been a tale of a Brother well-loved and long missed for most of his young life. “And you as well, Brother Rabbit. The Mother gives us a great gift today.” With that, the boy turned and ran toward the council building as fast as his bare feet could carry him. Rabbit shook his head as he, Lynx and Owl followed at a more sedate pace. “That one’s going to be more trouble than I ever thought of being.” “It’s true.” Wolf slipped his arm around Lynx’s waist and patted his hip. “But he’s also just as smart and sneaky as you, and he already knows how to read. One day, that boy’s going to lead this Pack. You mark my words.” The smile faded from Rabbit’s face. “I’ve missed so much. All these new faces. So many people I knew are gone, I just…” His eyes sought Lynx’s, his expression sad and a little desperate. “I’m going to need you tonight.” Their Pack gathered closer, providing a solid wall of flesh and strength for Rabbit in his time of need. But Lynx knew in his heart Rabbit was talking to him.

By the time they reached the council building, most of the city seemed to have gotten the news of their return. A huge crowd of men, women and children followed in their wake, calling Lynx and Rabbit’s names and cheering, even passing around jugs of wine and mead. Lynx was glad the Pack had come with them, because it took most of their Brothers to hold back the townspeople when Lynx, Rabbit, Owl and Wolf entered the council building.

A small table had already been set up in the council chambers, with four chairs, a jug of wine, four mugs, and a plate of bread, cheese and fruit. The four of them took their places at the table, Owl and Wolf flanking their Brothers by unspoken agreement. Lynx poured the pale yellow wine, then sat and took Rabbit’s hand under the table. Rabbit’s fingers wove through his, clutching tight, and he smiled. Mother Rose and the council filed into the chambers a few moments later, while Lynx and his Brothers were eating, sipping the tart wine and talking quietly together. They fell silent and stood to greet their tribe’s Mother as she entered the room. Smiling, she waved at them to sit. “Welcome back, Brothers. Brother Rabbit in particular. After so many long years, it is a joy beyond measure to welcome you home at last.” “Thank you very much, Mother.” Rabbit smiled, looking both pleased and nervous. “It’s wonderful to be back.” “Yes, very nice.” Councilor Tolly lowered himself into his chair and planted both elbows on the table. “Now. Would you care to tell us, Brothers, why you had to bring us here right now?” Lynx felt everyone in the room staring at him and Rabbit. He licked his lips. “It’s a long story, and Rabbit and I will tell you the whole thing, but right now the most important thing is, Carwin is in danger. The Br—um, the nomads are planning an organized attack.” Councilor Marigold made a dismissive sound. “They haven’t the strength to harm us within the walls of our city.” “Hush, Councilor.” Mother Rose folded her arms on the table in front of her. Her sharp gaze moved from Lynx to Rabbit and back again. “What kind of strength do they have?” Lynx ran his thumb along the handle of his mug. “More than we ever imagined before. We can defeat them, if we plan our defense right, but they do pose a very real threat to this city.”

Mother Rose hushed the anxious murmurings at her table with a sharp gesture. “How do you know this, Brother?” Lynx glanced at Rabbit, a question in his eyes. Rabbit sipped his wine and set the mug down with a thump. “They captured me seven years ago and took me to their city—Queen City, it’s called—as a slave. That’s where I’ve been for seven years, and that’s where Lynx has been since they captured him. We’ve been a part of a rebellion there trying to overthrow the Brass—the nomads, that is, their leaders—and some of our members overheard the Brass talking about marching on Carwin.” “They’re planning to kill everyone here and take over the city.” Lynx heard Owl’s soft curse and Wolf’s growl, but he didn’t look away from Mother Rose’s face. “We don’t know for certain when they plan to march, but the little bit of intelligence we’ve had says they won’t wait very long. We need to be ready.” “There’s more.” Mother Rose raised her eyebrows at the cautious tone in Rabbit’s voice. “Go on.” Rabbit sat up straighter and lifted his chin. “Carwin isn’t their only target. They’re planning to kill their own people as well.” Councilor Tolly snorted. The rest of the council looked at one another in obvious discomfort. Lynx saw the why should we care? on their faces, and it infuriated him. They didn’t even know Emily, or Maryanne, or Michael, or any of the citizens of Queen City, yet they were ready to condemn them to death by inaction. He tried not to dwell on the fact that not so long ago, he’d have harbored the same thoughts himself. Rabbit spoke, his voice composed and confident. “Mother Rose. Council members. I’ve lived with the people of Queen City for seven years. They’re not like the Brass. They’re good people. Just regular people, trying to live their lives. Now the Brass, their leaders, have decided every man, woman and child of them have to die because they’ve become inconvenient.” Rabbit’s fingers flexed around Lynx’s. A muscle twitched in his cheek, a sure sign of the anger he hid under his

thin veneer of calm. “Lynx and I want to return with some of our Pack to help free them.” All but a couple of the council started talking at once. Councilor Leland rubbed his chin, his expression troubled but thoughtful. Mother Rose pursed her lips in clear irritation. “Quiet!” Silence fell with an abruptness only Mother Rose could achieve. She drummed her fingers on the table. “This is a great deal to ask, Brother Rabbit.” “I know. But those people have done nothing wrong. They don’t deserve to die.” “The rebel group helped us escape so we could come back and warn you.” Lynx took a scuppernong from the plate and rolled it between his fingers. “We owe them, Mother. We never could’ve gotten out of Queen City without them.” Rabbit didn’t correct him, and Lynx was glad. Maybe they could’ve escaped through the main tunnel and maybe they couldn’t, but Mother Rose knowing about the possibility wouldn’t help their case right now. She sighed. “Before we decide, perhaps you’d better tell us the whole story, from the beginning.” Planting her palms flat on the table, she leaned forward, pinning Rabbit and Lynx both with her stern gaze. “Tell me why I should send part of our Pack away on a rescue mission to another tribe just when we need our full strength at home. Convince me that this is a good idea.” Lynx studied the row of faces before him—mostly closed off and grim, except for Councilor Leland and Mother Rose herself. It didn’t look hopeful. Beneath the table, he gave Rabbit’s hand a comforting squeeze, to remind him that whatever happened, they were in it together. The corner of Rabbit’s mouth tipped up. He pressed his knee against Lynx’s, and Lynx felt better. Rabbit drew a deep breath and began his story.

The sun rose relentlessly toward midday as first Rabbit, then Lynx, told the stories of their captures and of their brief stint with the Queen’s Redemption. The council interrupted every few minutes with questions. Occasional arguments broke out among the councilors, which Mother Rose cut off with ever-decreasing patience. In the end, the council’s opinion was split, half in favor of granting Lynx and Rabbit’s request and half against, with Mother Rose holding the deciding vote. “Brothers—all four of you—return at sunset. I’ll give you my decision at that time.” She rose, looking grim and tired. “This meeting is adjourned. I’ll be in my quarters thinking on the decision I must make. As for you, Councilors.” She shot a pointed glare up and down both ends of the table. “I suggest you take some time alone to think about just who you are, and what being a councilor means. And remember, each of you can be replaced, if you’ve forgotten how to sit still and listen.” Looking chastised, the councilors all stood and filed out of the room. Mother Rose rubbed her brow. “Mother help me. Brothers, I know this decision is important to you. I have no wish to see innocent people suffer, but please understand that the safety of the Carwin Tribe has to be my first priority.” Lynx pushed to his feet, pulling Rabbit with him by the hand. Wolf and Owl stood alongside them. “Of course, Mother.” Lynx gave her an encouraging smile. “Carwin is our top priority too. We know you’ll make the best decision possible.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Until sunset, Brothers.” She nodded at them, turned and paced out the door leading to the private council rooms. The council attendant entered through the public doorway behind them before the sound of Mother Rose’s footsteps faded. She dropped a quick curtsey. “This way, if you please, Brothers.” They followed the young woman out of the council chambers. She shut the door, curtsied again and hurried down the narrow hallway to whatever duties awaited her. Lynx and his Brothers left the council building. They emerged into the damp heat of the summer afternoon. The crowd had dissipated, thank the Mother. Thunder rumbled in the west.

Owl shaded his eyes with one hand and squinted at the black cloud hanging over the horizon. “Ought to get some good rain out of that one.” “Good. We need it.” Grinning, Wolf gave Lynx’s ass a smack. “Now that your meeting’s over, we need to take you to the healers’ place.” Lynx frowned. “Why? We’re fine. Rabbit told the truth about how we were treated in Queen City. Maryanne was very good to us.” “We believe you. And we’re all grateful, believe me.” His arm around Rabbit once more, Owl touched Lynx’s shoulder. A knowing smile curved his lips. “There’s someone there who would love to see you. And I know you’ll want to see him as well.” A wild hope surged in Lynx’s heart. He didn’t dare ask, though, for fear of being wrong. He glanced at Rabbit, answering his puzzled frown with a smile he couldn’t control. Letting go of Rabbit’s hand, he wound an arm around his Brother’s waist and angled his head to kiss him. The line between Rabbit’s eyes smoothed away. Lynx kissed him again, just because, and tucked his other arm around Wolf. Arm in arm, the four of them headed for the healer’s house.

The long, low building looked much the same as it had before the fateful trip into Char so many weeks ago. The healer was out front when they arrived, harvesting herbs from her garden. Her wrinkled face broke into a delighted grin when she saw them coming. “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come! He’d heard you were home, of course, Brother Lynx. He’s been most anxious to see you.” Healer Pansy turned and tottered toward the open doorway of the house, beckoning them to follow. “Come along, boys.” Lynx trailed after her, clinging to his Brothers. His heart raced so fast it made him want to throw up. He was almost afraid to see. No, not almost. He was afraid. Afraid to see the result of that excursion into Char. The same one that brought Rabbit back home.

He swallowed against the hard ache in his throat. There was no point in dwelling on any of it now. What was done, was done. And he had Rabbit back—they all did—so he couldn’t truly regret any of it. Which didn’t make it any easier to see what the whole thing had done to a brave young man who would rather die with a knife in his hand and a dead enemy at his feet than waste away in a healer’s cot. They walked inside. Once his eyes adjusted to the relative dimness, Lynx saw a narrow bed in the corner with a familiar figure lying in it, propped up against several pillows, and another one—just as familiar—sitting beside the bed in a wooden chair. The two leaned close together, hands entwined, both smiling, and some of the cold dread melted from Lynx’s gut. Fox spotted them first. He straightened up, grinning. “Great Mother, it’s true.” He nudged his companion. “See? I told you it wasn’t just a rumor.” In the bed, Kitten turned toward them. His right eye drifted sideways, but his left one focused on them, and his face lit up. “Lynx! Oh, Mother, you’re really home.” He reached a hand toward them. “Come here.” His chest tight, Lynx let go of Rabbit and Wolf, stumbled forward, sank onto the edge of the cot and gathered little Kitten into his arms. Mother, he was real, real and alive and he didn’t seem to be wasting away. Lynx stroked his back and held him close, fighting tears. “I didn’t see you, nobody said anything, and I was so afraid you…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, and it shamed him. All Pack expected to die in battle one day. They faced death without fear, with head high and eyes open. Lynx didn’t get why he’d agonized so over the idea of Kitten’s death, or why he couldn’t speak of it. Kitten, however, seemed to understand. He grasped the back of Lynx’s neck in one hand, kissed his hair, rubbed his back. “It’s okay. We all did what we had to. You especially. You can’t blame yourself for any of it.” Pulling away, Kitten leaned

back against his pillow, his wide smile still in place. “I’m so glad you’re all right. We had no idea if you were alive or dead.” Lynx managed a smile. “It’s good to be back.” A little of the light faded from Kitten’s face. “I wanted to go back after you, but we didn’t know exactly where they’d taken you or even if you were still alive, and the council wouldn’t let us go in there to look.” He wrinkled his nose. “They said we didn’t know what was down there and they couldn’t risk any more Pack without anything to go on.” The fact that his Brothers had tried to mount a rescue warmed Lynx’s heart, though it didn’t surprise him to hear it hadn’t been approved. They’d gone through the same thing when Rabbit vanished, for the same reasons. “The council was right. It would’ve been far too much of a risk.” He grinned, trying to bring back Kitten’s smile. “Hey, I came back anyway, right?” “You did. And you brought back our Rabbit.” Fox stood, grinning ear to ear, skirted the end of Kitten’s bed and strode up to Rabbit. “Welcome home, Brother.” Lynx watched, still petting Kitten’s hair, as Fox wrapped Rabbit in an exuberant embrace. Rabbit hugged him back and laughed and kissed him without any outward hesitation, but something about the way he held himself seemed off. As if he were uncomfortable and trying not to show it. A memory of nights lying in Rabbit’s arms in the slave quarters on Maryanne’s farm rose in Lynx’s mind. Part of him wanted to run over and tear Rabbit away from Fox, hold Rabbit close and know that they belonged only to one another. In that moment, he thought he understood the guarded look on Rabbit’s face. “Lynx? What are you thinking about?” Hiding his worries and doubts behind a smile, Lynx stroked his fingers down Kitten’s cheek. “Sometimes I look at Rabbit and I can’t believe he’s really here.” He shook his head, remembering the day he’d learned Rabbit still lived. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you in one piece, Brother.”

“More or less. Healer Pansy doesn’t think I’ll ever be able to see out of this eye again.” Kitten pointed at his right eye, aimed sightlessly at the far wall. “But I don’t have so many headaches anymore. And the fits come less often all the time. Healer Pansy says I can go back on patrol once I go at least six moon-cycles without one.” Lynx had no idea what to say. He leaned forward and kissed Kitten’s lips. “I’m sorry.” “I know. But there’s no need. I’m alive, and I have my Pack. I’ll be fine.” Kitten rubbed his cheek against Lynx’s. “You’ll need to take good care of Rabbit, though. I think he’s a little lost right now.” Lynx’s heart lurched. This was why he loved Kitten. Why he loved every man in his Pack. They understood each other. Kitten understood Rabbit, recognized the trouble clouding his mind, even though he’d never really known him. That was what being Pack was all about. “He is. But we’ll work it out.” Lynx sat back and grasped Kitten’s hands in his. “All right. I want to hear the whole story of how you and Fox made it back here.” Kitten laughed. “I’ll tell you our story if you tell us yours.” “I second that.” Tugging Lynx’s head back by his braids, Fox planted a kiss on his mouth. “It’s been a couple of days since Kitten’s last seizure, so the Healer says we can take him back to the Pack House. What say we head on back now? Little Brother’ll be more comfortable there, and you’ll only have to tell your story once.” “Sounds good to me.” Lynx rose and turned to Rabbit. He stood a little apart from the rest, watching them in silence, which was wrong. Pack should never be alone. Lynx curled an arm around Rabbit’s waist, his hand resting on Rabbit’s hip where he could run his thumb over the skin just above the top of his pants. “Come on. I can’t wait to get back in the Pack beds.” Fox helped Kitten dress—in spite of his protests that he didn’t need any help— then the six of them left the healer’s house together. Rabbit kept Lynx close with

an arm around his shoulders. The touch was possessive. Exclusionary, even. And Lynx couldn’t help but like it. Great Mother help him.

Lynx didn’t want to leave the Pack House at sunset, even though he knew how urgent their leader’s decision was about going back to Queen City. He and Rabbit had spent hours telling their stories for a rapt Pack audience and learning what had happened to Kitten and how he and Fox had gotten back to Carwin. The afternoon they’d spent with their Brothers had felt like a celebration to Lynx. In Queen City, he and Rabbit had only had each other. Now, back in Carwin, Lynx realized just how much he’d missed his Brothers. He’d always love Rabbit more than any other, but he’d never be complete without the Pack. Now, if he could only remember that when Rabbit pushed inside him tonight. Mother Rose waited for them in the council chambers. She gave them a tired smile. “Good evening, Brothers.” “Good evening, Mother.” Owl placed a protective hand on Rabbit’s lower back as the four of them stood before the council table. “We’re ready to hear your decision.” “Very well. I’ll get straight to the point.” She clasped her hands together on the table in front of her. “I can’t, in good conscience, allow you to take our defense away from us if the nomads—or the Brass, as you say they’re called—might be on their way here even as we speak.” Lynx’s heart sank. He glanced to his right. Rabbit’s face was blank, but Lynx knew him well enough to see his disappointment and anger in the set of his jaw. Mother Rose smiled, a wry half-smile as if she knew exactly what they were thinking. “However, after hearing your stories, I also can’t bring myself to deny your request completely. After all, Brothers Lynx and Rabbit, neither of you would be here right now if it weren’t for some of the people of Queen City.” She tapped

her index fingers together. “Also, it occurs to me that making allies out of the majority of that city’s citizens might be a good thing for us.” Lynx took Rabbit’s hand. “So, Rabbit and I will be allowed to return?” “Yes. But I’m not sending you alone. The four of you, decide how many men you’ll need here in order to defend Carwin from the planned attack. As I said before, this is our first priority. Once the plans for our defense are in place, put together a patrol to provide assistance to the people of Queen City.” She eyed all of them with her usual stern gaze. “Brothers, I trust you will use your forces in such a way as to properly defend our tribe and still give Queen City what help we can. You may go now. Come to me when your plans are set. May the Great Mother go with you.” “And with you.” Owl bowed, turned and headed for the exit. His Brothers echoed his words then followed him, leaving Mother Rose at the council table with a thoughtful look on her face. Outside, Lynx let go of Rabbit’s hand and wound an arm around his waist instead. The thought of what they might find when they returned to Queen City chilled him to the bone in spite of the summer heat. The warmth of Rabbit’s body felt good against his side, Rabbit’s arm strong and secure around his shoulders. He nuzzled the side of Rabbit’s neck, wishing they could find a private corner somewhere and love one another slow and sweet in the red sunset light. Rabbit angled his head to brush a feather-light kiss across Lynx’s mouth. “I want you to myself tonight,” he whispered. “Is that selfish?” Lynx smiled in spite of the giant fist that seemed to squeeze his lungs when Rabbit looked at him like that, dark eyes full of love and shame and intense need. “Our Brothers’ll understand.” Wolf and Owl flanked them, arms protectively around them, and Lynx knew he was right. The Pack would give Rabbit the time he needed. He ignored the part of him that wanted the intense intimacy he and Rabbit had shared in Queen City without sacrificing the comfort and camaraderie of the Pack.

Rabbit had been gone seven years. Lynx hadn’t. They were different situations, and Lynx would simply have to pull himself together. At least he had Rabbit’s need to hide behind, for the time being. He thought that should bother him more than it did.

In the end, they decided to leave the bulk of the Pack to defend Carwin and take a five-man patrol back to Queen City. As Rabbit pointed out, their best hope for getting to the groundhogs lay in stealth. If they had to fight, the whole Pack wouldn’t be enough in a direct confrontation with the full Brass force. A smaller patrol should be enough to teach and arm the groundhogs and slaves. Or get them out, if need be. “We’ll enter the city using the tunnel Lynx and I escaped through. I think we should take torches, though. We’d move much more quickly.” Rabbit leaned back in his chair, his knee propped against the Pack House table where he, Lynx, Owl and Wolf sat making their plans. “I guess the question now is, which Brothers to take with us?” Wolf gazed out the window at the moon-washed grounds where the rest of the Pack was running nighttime combat exercises so the four of them could talk in private. “Kitten’s going to want to go.” “Yes. But it’s too risky, for him and for us. If he should have a seizure while we’re out there…” Owl shook his head, his expression sorrowful. “That’ll mean we lose Fox on the patrol, but we’ll deal with it.” “Owl, you and Wolf can’t both go.” Lynx glanced between the two of them. “One of you is going to need to stay here and lead the defense.” Owl nodded. “I’ll stay. You’ll need Wolf’s nose and ears out there, especially with Fox and Kitten both staying home.” “All right.” Wolf stretched until his fingertips brushed the wall behind him. “Who else?”

“Squirrel, maybe. He’s good at thinking on his feet, and he’s got a real knack for sensing danger.” Lynx rubbed his chin. “Oh, definitely Horse.” Rabbit’s forehead creased. “Tall, with the burn mark on his arm. Right?” Owl nodded. “He’s as strong a fighter as we have, with a bow as well as a knife, if it comes to that, but more importantly he can run all day if need be. He’s your best bet to get messages back here quickly if you have to.” “Okay. Good.” Rabbit scratched absently at his neck. Wolf’s gaze zeroed in on Rabbit’s throat. “Well. Now that you’re home, I’ll cut those Mother-damned collars off.” “No.” Lynx laid a hand on Wolf’s wrist to stop him from drawing his knife. “We should probably keep them on, for now. In case we need them in Queen City.” Wolf stared at Rabbit’s collar, then Lynx’s. “Yeah. Okay. I can see that.” Rabbit sighed. “Great Mother. It’s been a long day.” Studying his Brother’s profile, Lynx saw the unspoken words behind what Rabbit said out loud—I’m a stranger in my own Pack. Help me. “Yes, it’s been a very long day.” Lynx laid a hand on Rabbit’s knee. “Well, we can talk about it some more in the morning, if we need to, but I think that sounds like a good patrol. And right now, I really just want to go to bed.” Across the table, Wolf eyed Rabbit with uncharacteristic seriousness. “The rest of the Pack’ll want to give you both a proper welcome home.” A vague apprehension tinged the anticipation and desire that quickened Lynx’s pulse. He’d been denied the touch of his Pack for too long. He wanted it. Needed it. Needed his Brothers close. They drew strength from each other, whether in battle or in bed, fucking or sleeping or sitting in silence to enjoy the fragrant breeze of a summer evening.

But now there was Rabbit. Rabbit like he’d never been before, quiet and uncertain, his wicked grin muted and a hint of shame in his eyes. Lynx was the only one who truly understood how Rabbit felt right now. He had a responsibility to help him. To guide him back to the Pack without pushing him too hard. Lynx leaned against Rabbit’s shoulder. “Whatever you want,” he murmured, for Rabbit’s ears only even though he knew Wolf and Owl would probably hear. Rabbit didn’t speak. Instead, he turned sideways, cupped Lynx’s face in both hands and kissed him. The press of his lips and the stroke of his tongue revealed his true heart better than words ever could. Lynx dug his fingers into his Brother’s hair and silently promised to be his buffer with the Pack, for as long as he needed it. A chair scraped the floor on the other side of the table. Seconds later, Lynx recognized the touch of Wolf’s big hand on his neck. Wolf brushed aside his braids and planted a kiss on the spot behind his ear that always sent waves of gooseflesh prickling down his arms. “Come to bed.” Wolf’s breath grazed Lynx’s ear, making him shiver and moan into Rabbit’s mouth. “We’ll make sure you and Rabbit stay together.” Lynx felt Rabbit’s breath hitch. He drew away and opened his eyes in time to see Owl with his face resting against the top of Rabbit’s head, one thumb stroking Rabbit’s nipple through his shirt just like he used to when he and Rabbit lay together in the old days. So Owl remembered how Rabbit liked to be touched. And Owl’s caress brought to life for Rabbit the memory of what it felt like for a Brother other than Lynx to touch him. Judging by the way he arched against Owl’s palm, he liked it. Lynx fought back the sudden, completely inappropriate urge to push Owl’s hand away and replace it with his own. If Rabbit was going to find his way back, he needed the whole Pack, not just Lynx.

Rabbit’s eyes opened. His gaze fixed on Lynx. He blinked, his lips curving into a slow, dazed smile. “Lynx.” The way Rabbit spoke his name eased some of Lynx’s worry for his Brother. He let Wolf help him up with an arm around his middle, then took Rabbit’s hands. He and Owl got Rabbit to his feet. The four of them crossed the room toward the row of mattresses laid side by side against the far wall. Rabbit stopped at the foot of the large feather-filled pallet he’d once shared with Lynx, Bear and Fox. He stared at it, wide eyes fixed on something only he could see. His expression told the tale of his thoughts. The things the Pack had shared in this room, in these beds, bound them together in ways the years apart could never break. Facing the power of that living, breathing bond again must be difficult for Rabbit, especially since he’d lived long enough without it to become uncomfortable with anyone but Lynx. Lynx wrapped both arms around his Brother’s trembling body. “Whatever you want, Rabbit.” He kissed the angle of Rabbit’s jaw. “Anything you want. Nothing you don’t.” Slipping one hand up the back of Rabbit’s shirt, he traced his fingertips along the length of Rabbit’s spine. A drop of sweat trickled down Rabbit’s neck. Lynx licked it off before it could reach his collar. “I love you, Brother. We love you. You’re always safe here, with us. With your family.” Some of the tension went out of Rabbit’s body. He drew back a little, turned his head and kissed Lynx’s lips. “I know.” He glanced over his shoulder, to where Owl and Wolf stood a couple paces away, quietly kissing and undressing one another. Normally they’d be with Lynx and Rabbit, touching and pulling off clothes and mouthing bare skin as they revealed it, but it seemed as though they sensed Rabbit’s need for space. “It is good to be back. To be with my Brothers again. It’s just…” Lynx smiled at the struggle for words on Rabbit’s face. He thought he understood, even though his time in Queen City had been nothing compared to Rabbit’s. When it came to survival, people adapted, and the unimaginable eventually

became normal. Rabbit had grown up in the Pack. His old life would come back to him soon enough, Lynx had no doubt. Sliding an arm around Wolf’s waist, Owl turned to Rabbit and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Brother. You don’t have to try to explain. When you’re ready, we’ll be here.” The worried wrinkle smoothed away from between Rabbit’s eyes. He smiled, nodded and leaned sideways to kiss the corner of Owl’s mouth. He didn’t say anything, but Lynx felt his gratitude in the relaxing grip of his hand on Lynx’s hip. He just hoped the rest of the Pack would follow Owl’s lead.

Fox and Kitten were the first to return, creeping back inside while Lynx had Rabbit stretched out in bed, distracted with deep, searching kisses and one hand stroking his bare hip where he’d flung his thigh over Lynx’s. Rabbit tensed at the sound of the door opening and the footsteps crossing the floor, but opened his eyes to watch the other men undress. Lynx smiled as he felt Rabbit’s cock go from halfhard to fully rigid against his. He didn’t have to look to know what Rabbit saw. Kitten and Fox together made a striking sight. They were a favorite pair among the whole Pack when it came to watching. The rest of the Pack started filtering in by twos and threes soon after Fox and Kitten settled into the bed beside Lynx. Everyone wanted to touch Rabbit. Lynx could tell. He knew Rabbit could tell too. Some of the Brothers tried to squeeze into bed between Rabbit and Owl, before being warned off by a look from Lynx or a shake of Owl’s head. Most only stopped a moment to murmur words of welcome and encouragement or briefly caress Rabbit’s leg on their way to find a place in the beds. Maybe the situation would’ve been more difficult if Rabbit hadn’t been flanked by Owl and Wolf on one side and Lynx on the other. But Lynx couldn’t know that for sure, and didn’t care to waste time trying. Instead, he concentrated all his

attention on Rabbit. On breaking through Rabbit’s discomfort with his touch, his kiss and the skin-to-skin press of their bodies together. In the end, though, it didn’t change anything. As the moon rose outside the eastern window and the room grew thick with the sounds and smells of sex, Rabbit’s tension grew. His cock softened enough that Lynx knew his Brother’s obvious desire for a return to what they’d once had here wouldn’t be enough to overcome the shock of being back in the Pack beds after seven years. “I’m sorry.” Lynx barely heard Rabbit’s low whisper over Kitten’s increasingly loud cries, but Rabbit’s misery came through as clearly as if he’d shouted. Hurting for his Brother and wanting to comfort him, Lynx planted a gentle kiss on Rabbit’s neck. “Don’t be.” He nuzzled behind Rabbit’s ear. “You’re tired, Brother. Go to sleep.” Rabbit curled closer into Lynx’s embrace without a word, his head pillowed on Lynx’s chest. Lynx stroked his hair, his back, the curve of his hip. Finally, after Squirrel blew out the candles and the last of the conversations died down into the sounds of soft snores and the occasional rustle of a Brother turning over, Rabbit’s body relaxed in Lynx’s arms. Lynx lay awake a while longer, thinking about Queen City and Carwin, about Rabbit and the Pack and what lay in their mutual future. He hated being forced to wait, even though he understood the need for it. He wanted to confront the Brass now. Get it over with, get it behind them and get back to their lives. As hard as he tried not to, he couldn’t help worrying about what would happen to Maryanne, Kathy, Emily and the rest of the groundhogs. Even if they managed to utterly defeat the Brass, Queen City might soon be uninhabitable. Where would the people of the city go? Could they learn to survive aboveground? Lynx had no answers. Maybe he would by the time they returned to Queen City, but he didn’t hold out much hope for it.

Eventually, weariness and the chirping of the crickets outside quieted his racing thoughts. He drifted to sleep to the rise and fall of Rabbit’s ribs beneath his arm, and Rabbit’s slow breaths on his neck.

Lynx woke from a nightmare of cold, empty darkness with the morning sun in his eyes and the bed beside him empty. He sat up, his pulse racing. “Rabbit?” “Here.” Rabbit stood beside one of the eastern windows, naked, his elbows resting on the sill. The breeze ruffled his hair. Relieved, Lynx rose, crossed to stand beside him and peered outside. Some of their Brothers sat on the grass under the big oak tree, eating a breakfast of fruit and bread. Others were working out on the training grounds. “It’s late. Wonder why everyone let us sleep so long?” He leaned over to plant a kiss on Rabbit’s lips. “Are you all right?” “I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall right back into my old life. But I still hoped I would.” Rabbit’s mouth twisted into a sad version of his old smile. “Stupid.” Lynx touched Rabbit’s cheek. “The Pack’ll understand. Just like I do.” Rabbit looked at him, dark eyes full of sorrow and apprehension. “Mother, I hope you’re right.” So did Lynx. He kept that to himself. Behind them, the door opened. Lynx and Rabbit both turned. Fox stood in the doorway, his expression grim, and dread curdled like a ball of ice in Lynx’s gut. “Fox. What’s wrong?” Fox crossed to stand beside them. “One of our long-range Char scouts returned a few minutes ago.” Rabbit paled. He grasped Lynx’s hand. “Oh no.”

“Yes.” Fox’s long fingers clenched around the handle of his knife. “The Brass are on their way.”

Chapter Eleven “Deer and Spider estimate we have until tomorrow night,” Owl said about an hour later, as he, Wolf, Lynx and Rabbit stood before Mother Rose and the council once more. “They’re traveling mostly by night, as they tend to do. And obviously they want to attack at night as well, hoping to take us by surprise.” Mother Rose nodded, her mouth set in a thin line. “You said your plans are in place for the tribe’s defense, yes?” “Yes, Mother. Most of the Pack will remain here. I will stay behind to personally lead the defense.” Owl nodded toward Lynx, who stood to his left. “Lynx will lead a five-man patrol out of Carwin and into Char. They will take the quickest route possible to Queen City without being spotted by the nomads. I mean, the Brass. Once the patrol reaches Queen City, Rabbit will lead.” “You’re going to leave before they get here, I suppose.” The sour expression on Councilor Tolly’s face revealed what he thought of that plan. Not that it changed anything. Lynx lifted his chin and met the other man’s derisive gaze. “Yes, we are.” Councilor Marigold rubbed her upper arms with her hands as if she were cold. “Brothers, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why you have to go now. We need all of you here. How can we spare even five men of our Pack with our worst enemies marching on us as we speak, intending to destroy us?” She shook her head. “I know you feel you need to go help those other people. But your first loyalty should be to your tribe. This smacks of tr—” “Councilor, are you questioning my judgment in this matter?” Mother Rose cast a glance as cold as her voice at Councilor Marigold. Marigold’s face went an unhealthy shade of gray. “No, Mother. Not at all.”

“Good. Be careful what you say, Councilor.” Mother Rose turned her attention back to Lynx, leaving Marigold to slump in her seat in relief. “How soon will you need to go, Brothers? Will you be leaving today, or waiting until tomorrow?” “Tomorrow.” Wolf shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and Lynx fought a smile. Wolf never fidgeted except when they went to council. “We’ll leave at first light.” From the corner of his eye, Lynx saw Rabbit’s jaw tighten. Lynx reached out and clasped Rabbit’s hand in his, to lend his Brother some of his own strength. In the end, they’d all agreed to wait until tomorrow. They needed time to formulate a solid plan for when they reached Queen City, as well as decide on the appropriate route to get there. Rabbit understood that need as well as his Brothers did. But people he cared for were in danger in Queen City, and waiting even a few hours— never mind an entire day—hurt him in a way no one but Lynx could comprehend. Truthfully, Lynx worried about his friends back in Queen City too. Rushing into things wouldn’t help them, though. A Pack Brother shouldn’t let his emotions rule him in battle. At the table, Mother Rose watched them with her sharp gaze that missed nothing. “Very well. Brother Owl, what about the tribal defense? What is your plan for keeping the attack at bay?” “Our best archers are staying here. We’re posting them all along the walls, though mostly along the north wall since the attack is likely to come from that direction.” Owl glanced at Rabbit. “Brother Rabbit tells us that the Brass don’t have archers. They don’t do any hunting or fighting other than with knives. This gives us a huge advantage within our own walls. Brothers Lynx and Rabbit tell us they have oldworld weapons that let them somehow kill many men at once, possibly from a distance. But again, as long as we’re within our walls, those weapons won’t do them any good. They can’t break through these walls, they can’t climb over them, and there’s no way to approach this city where we can’t see them coming. The gate is the weakest point. It’s the only part that wasn’t built by the ancients, before the Change, and that makes it vulnerable. But it’s still very strong, and we

have manpower enough to defend it. Even as dangerous as the Brass are inside Char, they shouldn’t be able to take Carwin as long as we can hold the gate.” “Then we must hold it.” Resting her elbows on the table, Mother Rose steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “We have many able-bodied men and women in the tribe who can assist in the defense if need be. Please send some of your trainees around with a call for volunteers.” “Yes, Mother. An excellent idea.” Owl’s hand clenched and released as if longing to clasp the handle of his knife. “The Brass are strong fighters. There’s no denying that. But we believe that with the defense we’ve planned, the walls of Carwin are more than strong enough to keep them out, particularly since they’ve lost the element of surprise.” “Brother Owl, I hope your assessment is correct.” Mother Rose stood. “I know the Pack has much preparation ahead of you today. This council is therefore adjourned. Brothers, may the Great Mother walk with you all in the days ahead.” “And with you, Mother.” Owl gave a shallow bow and left the council chambers, followed by his Brothers. They headed for the Pack house in silence. Rabbit’s fingers wound tighter around Lynx’s and didn’t let go.

Lynx, Rabbit, Wolf, Squirrel and Horse left Carwin in the cool gray half-light the next morning. They crossed the empty fields surrounding the tribal walls on all sides, then threaded their way through a pathless maze of rubble northeast of the city. The route would take them a bit out of their way, approaching the old tunnel from the east instead of the southwest, but it was necessary to avoid the Brass horde approaching Carwin. The Brass couldn’t go that way, because they’d never be able to get through without losing one another. Five Pack Brothers could navigate the wasteland easily enough, though. Squirrel in particular knew the area well, having been through it with Hummingbird on two-man scouting patrols many times.

They walked through the morning, slept in the shade of a mostly intact building during the heat of the afternoon, then continued on through the night and into the next day. Just as the sun dipped near the tops of the buildings, Lynx spotted the entryway into the ancient tunnel through which he and Rabbit had escaped Queen City. “It’s about a hundred paces west.” He pointed through a breach in the ruined wall of the tottering old house they’d chosen as a hiding place. “Do you see that big metal wall in the hill there, between those two metal buildings? There’s a door to the south. That’s the way in. It’s just a small door, it’s hidden by a kind of fold of the land and the way the rubble piles up.” Beside him, Wolf leaned forward, pale gray eyes gleaming with interest. “Yeah. I think I see. I mean I see the buildings and the metal wall, but I think I see where the door is too.” “We’ll go in before full daylight. But first we need to make sure we’re not walking into a trap.” Lynx turned to the other three men standing still and silent in the small, dirty space. “Before we break out of hiding, I’ll scan the area as best I can for anything that looks suspicious. Rabbit, you listen for any sounds out of the ordinary. Wolf, you see if you smell any people other than us. Once we’re satisfied everything’s clear, we go in. I’ll lead. I’ll keep a lookout as we go. Rabbit, you’re at my back. Keep your ears open. Squirrel, you take the right flank. Horse, you’re on the left. Wolf, you take the rear. Ears and nose open. Everyone, knives in your hands.” He looked at each grim, eager face in turn, settling on Rabbit’s last. “Let’s go.” Lynx slipped through the ruined doorway of the house, dropped to his hands and knees and peered through the curtain of vines shielding the place from view. He scanned the barren landscape around them. Only pockmarked dirt dotted here and there with ragged clumps of weeds lay between their crumbling hiding place and the tunnel entry. Nothing stirred in the stillness. Not a breath of breeze or a single bird’s call.

Not that he’d expected anything different. Legend had it that birds had abandoned Char long ago, when the Great Mother rose up against the wickedness of those who’d once lived here. Normally, Lynx wasn’t one to set any store in legends, but now and then the quiet here felt unnatural, and it made him wonder. Rabbit’s hand on his shoulder broke the eerie spell this place sometimes cast over him. He glanced sideways at Rabbit. “Do you hear anything?” “No. It’s quiet as death out there.” Rabbit sat back on his heels, staring through the vines. “Wolf says he smells bodies. Human. Dead at least a week, though, and probably a good thousand paces to the north.” Great Mother. “Can he tell how many?” Rabbit shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, though. What could it be, but the Brass doing what they do?” He was right. The only good thing about it was that if Wolf’s nose was right—and it usually was—the slaughter was many days past, and far enough away that they shouldn’t be spotted even if anyone still lingered at the spot, which they probably didn’t. Still… “He didn’t smell any live humans in the area?” “No. Just us.” Rabbit rubbed his thigh with the hand not holding his knife. “I don’t like how it feels here, Lynx. Like there’s thunder about to break, even though Wolf said he doesn’t smell rain.” He regarded Lynx with wide, solemn eyes. “We need to hurry. We need to get to Queen City as soon as we can.” Much like the animal whose name he bore, Rabbit had always had a sixth sense when it came to danger. Lynx saw no reason to question it now. He rose and leaned through the opening into the old house. “All right, Brothers. Let’s move out.” The five of them ran across the open space in close formation, knives at the ready and senses on full alert. Lynx scanned both the nearby ground and the horizon as he went. As before, nothing moved, the only sound the soft thud of his Brothers’ footfalls echoing his own. But his heart raced with the need to move faster. Maybe he’d caught Rabbit’s urgency.

They made it to the tunnel without incident. At the door, Lynx turned, knife in hand, and studied every dip, hillock and patch of scraggly weeds in the land through which they’d just passed. He saw nothing, but that didn’t mean no one lurked out there. Or that none of the Brass would come along later and become curious about the doorway into the earth. He ran his thumb over his knife handle. “I think we should block up this tunnel behind us.” Horse raised his eyebrows. “Why?” “In case the Brass find it. Or already know about it, though I’m betting they don’t. They’d have this doorway guarded if they did.” Rabbit peered out into the dying light. “I agree with Lynx. We need to block up the tunnel. That’ll keep out casual explorers and slow down any Brass who happen to come along.” Wolf didn’t look happy. “How will we get out again?” “We’ll just have to block it in a way we can unblock again from the other side, that’s all.” Lynx clapped Wolf’s solid shoulder. “Come on. Let’s see what we can find around here to do the job.”

Between the five of them, they managed to wedge three ancient car husks firmly in place in front of the door leading into the tunnel. With any luck, anyone who came along—even the Brass—wouldn’t be able to climb through the tangle of ruined metal and other things Lynx couldn’t name to get inside and follow them. With the way behind them blocked as thoroughly as possible, they started down the passageway toward Queen City. Squirrel had stashed tinder and flint in his knapsack, and Wolf carried torches they’d prepared ahead of time. They stopped to light the torches before the darkness became so dense that no one but Lynx could see, then continued down the slope. At first the tunnel went on without any change—roughly fifty paces wide and about the height of four tall men. After a while, more and more cars crowded the

space. Skeletal bodies still sat inside some of them. An increasing number of human bones littered the ground as well. It sobered Lynx to realize that some of the unseen objects he’d kicked out of the way when he and Rabbit journeyed through here before had been the last earthly remains of people from the old world. Lynx estimated they were within a couple hours of the entrance to the Queen City deeps when he spotted the fork in the path ahead. He frowned. “Rabbit?” “Hm?” “I don’t remember a fork in this tunnel.” “Neither do I.” Rabbit rubbed his chin. “But we were walking on the opposite side, and this place is huge. I guess it’s not too surprising that we missed it.” With Lynx and Rabbit taking the lead, the group approached the place where the passageway split. They couldn’t get any closer than twenty-five paces or so of the opening, because of the tight press of cars clogging that side of the tunnel. Squirrel ran a hand over the nearest metal husk. “What are these things?” “Cars. The ancients used them to travel from place to place.” Wolf shot Rabbit a fond look. Horse stalked along the line of rusted machines, his torch held forward. “Look, Brothers. There’s a barrier of some sort not far ahead.” They didn’t have time to explore, really, but Lynx made his way over anyhow, because he saw what Horse saw and couldn’t bring himself to pass up the chance for a closer look. He managed to get within ten paces of the gate blocking the passage. The gate wasn’t solid. It was a grid of crisscrossing metal bars. The guttering orange light of his torch revealed more cars beyond. Not the tight, frantic cluster on this side, but rather a few scattered here and there, vanishing into the dark past the reach of Lynx’s torch. One skeleton hung halfway through the gate’s bars, a large hole in the skull above the left eye socket telling the tale of the person’s death.

“A knife didn’t do that.” Squirrel gazed at the scene with a mix of curiosity and revulsion in his eyes. “What in the Mother’s name happened here?” Lynx looked around at the cars packed together, at the bodies, at the closed gate, and felt cold inside. “I think these people were trying to escape something. Trying to get underground. Someone, for some reason, closed the path to them, and they died here.” No one answered, but none of them seemed surprised. They must’ve come to the same conclusion. After a silent moment, Lynx turned away, crossed to the other side of the tunnel and started back down the path to the deeps. His Brothers followed him. As they went, he heard Horse whisper, “May you walk with the Mother, friends.” Lynx echoed the words in his head.

They came upon the entrance to the deeps more abruptly than Lynx expected. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised. The path had become lower, steeper and narrower ever since it split from the mysterious passageway full of cars earlier. Still, the rocky slope and giant boulder loomed ahead of them far sooner than Lynx had thought it would. Maybe the torchlight and the presence of his Pack Brothers simply made the journey seem shorter this time. Horse studied the barrier with a critical eye. “So, we climb over it?” “Yes.” Rabbit gave the pile of rubble a light kick. “We’ll have to go over one at a time. It’s a short drop on the other side, but not bad. Just remember, the air’s bad. In fact it may have gotten even worse over the last three days. We’ll need to move fast once we’re there.” “I’ll go first,” Lynx added. “If there’s any light at all, I’ll be able to pick up on it. Plus I already know the area, since Rabbit and I have been through there. And if

anyone happens to be around, they’ll know I belong in Queen City.” He touched the collar still fastened around his neck. Squirrel’s gaze drifted to the collar, as it had done many times ever since Lynx’s return to the Pack. “Won’t they wonder where you’ve been?” “Maybe. Maybe not. It depends on who they are and how often they’d normally see me. If worst comes to worst, I’ll just say I got lost in the dark or something. I hadn’t really been in Queen City all that long, I’d never been to the deeps before, and no one here knows how well I can see.” Lynx undid the belt holding his knife sheath and handed it to Rabbit. He set his torch on the ground. “I’m going over. I won’t take a torch, just in case there’s someone there. I’ll give a whippoorwill call if everything’s clear. If you hear anything else at all, do not come over. Okay?” Horse, Squirrel and Wolf all nodded. Rabbit looked away. Lynx pretended not to see. He wasn’t going to get anything more than that. He couldn’t say he’d have any easier time promising to do nothing if Rabbit vanished on the other side of that boulder and he couldn’t go after him. Wolf laid a hand on Lynx’s shoulder. “Be careful, Lynx. May the Mother hold you.” “Thank you.” Rising on tiptoe, Lynx pressed a kiss to Wolf’s lips. He kissed Squirrel, then Horse, and finally Rabbit, lingering in his Brother’s arms longer than he probably should have. He forced himself away. “All right. I’ll see you all in a minute.” A boost from Wolf allowed him to avoid the worst of the rubble piled up against the boulder and scramble to the top with minimal effort. He stuck his head through the opening into the deeps and listened for a moment. Hearing nothing, he swung his legs over, lowered himself as far as he could onto the other side and dropped to the ground. Instantly, the headache, nausea and dizziness he’d suffered before returned. He fought it. None of them could afford incapacitation now. Steadying himself against the wall, he made his way into the main passage and peered both ways.

He saw nothing but faint shadows. Heard nothing but the rush of his own pulse in his ears. He stumbled back to the boulder, tilted his head back and gave a whippoorwill call. Seconds later, torchlight shone over the top and Squirrel’s head appeared, a dark silhouette against the golden glow. Lynx moved out of the way. Squirrel swung over and dropped to the ground, a torch in his hand. He wrinkled his nose. “Wow. What happened down here? Did they use up all the air? Is that what’s wrong? It doesn’t seem very safe to live this far underground.” Behind Squirrel, Rabbit landed in a crouch, his torch held to one side. “That’s a long story, for another time.” He gave Squirrel’s shoulder a squeeze before moving out into the tunnel. He frowned. “I hear shouting.” Lynx followed his Brother into the passageway. He held his breath and listened, but heard nothing except the two faint thunks of Wolf and Horse dropping over the boulder. Twisting around, he gestured to Wolf. “Rabbit heard shouting.” Wolf stalked forward, his brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, he nodded. “It’s faint, but I hear it. That way.” He pointed toward the main cavern. Rabbit and Lynx glanced at each other. Words weren’t necessary. They both knew what the sounds meant. Queen City was at war.

Chapter Twelve “Stay in formation. Just like before. I’ll take point this time.” Rabbit turned to the rest of the group. The torchlight emphasized the set to his jaw and the hard glitter in his eyes. “We’ll try for the primary plan first, heading to Maryanne’s farm. That’s where the Queen’s Redemption group’ll gather if they can. If we can’t get there, we’ll go to the clinic instead.” “We’ll douse our torches and find a place to hide them before we enter the main cavern,” Lynx added as the group followed Rabbit toward the head of the tunnel. “We can relight them on the way out.” “Right.” At the back of the formation, Wolf’s torch flared and flickered when he switched it from one hand to the other. “Everyone got it?” Rabbit’s dark head nodded without a word. On either side of Lynx, Horse and Squirrel each answered yes. Lynx glanced sideways at Squirrel, whose face looked gray even in the warm glow of the fire. “The bad air’s making us all feel sick, but that ought to get better as we approach the main cavern. Hang in there.” Up ahead, Rabbit drew his knife with a soft whoosh of polished bone against leather. “Knives out, Brothers.” Lynx drew his weapon. Around him, his Brothers did the same. The dull shine of the blades in the torch glow clicked all the unsettled pieces of Lynx’s life back into place again. For the first time in far too long, he felt calm, strong and ready for whatever might come.

They discovered the source of the shouting Rabbit and Wolf had heard before they reached the end of the deeps passageway. Two groundhogs lay sprawled on the ground, throats and bellies slit open. The woman was nude from the waist down and had clearly been raped before she died. Deep cuts gashed both of the

man’s palms, as if he’d tried to grab the blade to keep it from killing either himself or the woman, or both. Rabbit let out a soft, grieved noise. Kneeling between them, he sheathed his knife, dug in the satchel hanging at his back and pulled out a blanket. He laid it over the woman’s lower body, then reached up to close her eyes and the man’s. “May you walk in joy with the Great Mother.” Pushing to his feet, Rabbit yanked his knife from its sheath and strode onward without another word. Horse shot Lynx a questioning look. Lynx shook his head. He’d recognized the hemp farmers, George and Ashley, immediately. They were good people, kind and generous and quick to laugh. Their brutal deaths angered him every bit as much as the death of a Carwin Tribe member at Brass hands would have. He didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to discuss it. All he wanted right now was to march into Queen City and help her people take her back from the oppressors who’d ruled through blood and fear for too many centuries. Rabbit had known George and Ashley for seven years. They’d been friends. If Lynx felt angry, he could only imagine the strength of Rabbit’s rage. They hadn’t traveled more than a hundred paces or so before Lynx caught a flickering orange-gold light from the tremendous central cavern ahead. A few minutes later, Wolf saw it too. Not long after that, the light of the fires consuming Queen City eclipsed that of their torches. “Keep them burning. No one will notice, and we don’t know what we might find once we get to the farm.” Rabbit watched the flames lick the stone buildings surrounding the market, his expression dangerously blank. Screams rose above the crackle and roar of the fire, and Rabbit’s lips pressed together in a way Lynx had learned to recognize as meaning no mercy for enemies, only swift death from a skillfully wielded knife. Rabbit’s throat worked. Turning on his heel, he stalked toward the passage leading to Maryanne’s farm. They didn’t meet a single soul on their way around the periphery of the cavern, though the fire cast shadows of people running to escape the flames, or possibly

their murderers. Lynx itched to leap into the midst of it, into the fray, to bathe his blade in Brass blood. He knew his Brothers felt the same. But it was a foolish impulse. No matter how strong they were, five Pack Brothers couldn’t fight off a city full of Brass. The Queen’s Redemption had strength in numbers. The Pack had skill in battle. They would need both in order to get themselves and the people of Queen City out alive.

The passage to Maryanne’s farm was as dark and deserted as ever. What worried Lynx was the blackness at the other end. Rabbit signaled a halt just before the tunnel took the final turn to the cave housing the wheat farm. “There’s no power, but I’m pretty sure there’s a large group of people in there.” He looked at Wolf. “Can you smell anyone?” Taking a few steps forward, Wolf sniffed the air. Then again, a longer, deeper breath. “Yes. There’s a lot of them. I can hear them too, just barely. A ways off, I think.” He turned and eyed Rabbit and Lynx with curiosity. “How big is this farm?” The corners of Rabbit’s mouth rose. “Big enough.” “They must be on the other side of the cave, in the storage building. It’s big enough to hold at least a hundred people, a good bit more if you squeeze in tight, and you could have a couple of lanterns in there and never see their light from here. Even I would have trouble picking it up unless I knew to look for it. If the Brass came down this tunnel, they’d see the place was dark and leave.” Lynx sucked on his bottom lip, thinking hard. “Rabbit, they know us. I think you and I should take the lead, staying well out in front. We should announce ourselves, and—” “What?” Wolf stared at him transparent shock. “What if the Brass have already taken this place? They’d be on us in no time. We should put out the torches and go silently, and only announce our presence once we know the place is free of enemies.”

“You know how the Brass operate. Either they stay and revel after a kill, or they kill and move on. We hear and smell a group of people, yet the cave’s dark and there’s no singing, no shouting, no screaming.” Rabbit shook his head. “The Brass aren’t here. Hopefully they haven’t been.” “I hope you’re right, Brother.” Wolf twirled his knife between his fingers. “Lynx, finish what you were saying before. Sorry for interrupting.” Lynx gave Wolf a nod and a brief smile. “I think me and Rabbit should go out in front of you three and announce ourselves, so that the rebel group doesn’t get scared into attacking us before they know it’s us.” Squirrel’s eyebrows rose. “Do they have weapons?” “They might. I’m not sure. But I don’t want to risk it. None of us can afford an injury while we’re down here.” Lynx shot a glance at Rabbit. “We don’t know if Emily’s here, or if she was able to salvage any of her supplies from the clinic.” Or if she’s still alive. The tightening around Rabbit’s eyes and mouth suggested he’d guessed what Lynx had left unsaid. Lynx moved to Rabbit’s side. They looked at each other, and Lynx’s heart swelled for reasons too complex to put into words, even inside his head. “Ready?” “Ready.” Rabbit leaned in and pressed a hard kiss to Lynx’s lips. “Let’s go.” The two of them sheathed their knives and started down the path between the wheat fields and the farmhouse. Once they’d gotten about thirty paces ahead, Lynx gave their Brothers the signal to follow. Lynx studied the area as they moved forward. Maryanne’s house and the slave quarters both sat dark and silent. The wheat hung unmoving in its netting, eerie in its perfect stillness. Lynx glanced back at Wolf, who shook his head to indicate he hadn’t heard or smelled anyone in the buildings or the immediate vicinity in the fields. With a nod at Wolf, Lynx turned back to Rabbit. “No one’s nearby.” He narrowed his eyes and

peered into the gloom at the other side of the cavern. “It’s hard to tell with our torches lit, but I think I see lamplight coming from under the seed storage door.” Rabbit didn’t answer, but relief softened the hard line of his jaw and smoothed the crease from between his eyes. He touched Lynx’s shoulder as they continued on their way. They came within fifteen paces of the storage house without a challenge from anyone within. Rabbit held up the hand not clutching his torch. Lynx didn’t bother to look behind him. He knew Squirrel, Wolf and Horse would stay put until he and Rabbit made the group inside aware of their presence. Lynx and Rabbit walked forward side by side until they stood within three long strides of the door. A part of Lynx couldn’t help comparing those inside to the Pack, who never would’ve allowed anyone to get so close. It was unfair of him, and he knew it. These people weren’t warriors. Rabbit held his torch aloft and shouted loudly enough to be heard through the stone walls and rare metal roof. “Maryanne! It’s Rand—Rabbit, and Lynx. We’ve come back, and we’ve brought some of our Pack with us, as we promised.” Lynx couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips, or the pride swelling in his chest. Maybe it wasn’t important right now, but he loved Rabbit for reclaiming his freedom, his Pack status, and especially his name. Their names. Queen City’s owner and slave dynamic no longer mattered. Only survival mattered now. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the door cracked open and a figure slipped out. Rabbit smiled. “Maryanne. Thank the Mother you’re all right.” “And you. Both of you.” She peered behind them to where Horse, Squirrel and Wolf stood watchful and silent, waiting. “I can’t pretend I don’t wish you could’ve brought more Pack, but hell, one of you boys is worth ten of us when it comes to fightin’, so we’ll take it.” She gestured to the other three. “C’mon inside. We’ll bring you up to speed.” She turned and headed back through the open door. Amused in spite of the situation, Lynx trailed after her. Rabbit followed, giving their Brothers the sign to

come along. They doused their torches on the thick stone wall and left them outside. Any Brass who ventured this far into the farm cave would know there were people inside the storage building with or without the presence of extinguished torches. The tremendous room Lynx remembered looked smaller when crammed full of dirty, sometimes bloodied people with glazed eyes. Most of them huddled as far as they could from the door, leaving a small empty space. Low conversations floated from here and there, and somewhere nearby a woman spoke soothingly to her frightened child, but otherwise the people were quiet and subdued. “This is Squirrel, Horse and Wolf.” Rabbit pointed out the three as they entered the building. “Brothers, this is Maryanne.” “Pleasure, gents.” She took each of their hands in turn and shook. Lynx bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing at the confusion on his Brothers’ faces. Squirrel stared at the crowd of thin, pale, soot-smudged strangers with pity in his eyes. “I’ll stand guard outside. Just in case.” “I think that’s a good idea.” Lynx glanced sidelong at Rabbit, who nodded. “If you sense anything, knock twice on the door. Either Rabbit or me will come out and see what’s going on.” “All right.” Squirrel swept his gaze over the huddled group once more. They stared back, silent now, passively waiting to see what these five men with knives would do to them. Lynx saw his young Brother trying to understand it, trying to process the conflicting urges to protect them and to shake them out of their apathy so they’d discover the will to protect themselves. Squirrel opened his mouth. Shut it. Shook his head, turned and left, closing the door behind him without a sound. Maryanne watched him go with pursed lips. “These people ain’t Pack, okay? They ain’t never seen nothin’ like what’s happened in the last day or so. They don’t

know how to handle it.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “Hell, I don’t know how to handle it either. You boys don’t know how glad we are to see you.” Rabbit squeezed Maryanne’s shoulder. “Is everyone okay? Everyone from the farm?” “And Emily,” Lynx added. “And Heather. Are they all right?” “They made it, but just barely. Em stayed at the clinic until the last minute. She’s in the back, tending the wounded.” Maryanne’s expression turned grim, and dread closed a cold fist around Lynx’s heart. “Kathy, Lisa and Samuel are fine. They’re in here someplace, sleeping most likely. Everybody’s worn out. But Michael disappeared when the Brass attacked.” She shut her eyes. Purple circles colored the skin beneath them. “He was at the market with me and Samuel. It was… God. Crazy. They were everywhere, killing people, doing…” She drew a deep breath and opened her eyes. Her gaze fixed on whatever she saw in her mind’s eye. “Like I said, I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it. Had everyone in an uproar. We all got separated. I looked for my boys but I couldn’t find them, and the Brass were everywhere. I came back to the farm to get somethin’ I might use as a weapon so I could come back and find them. I ran into Samuel while I was on my way to the city again. He was cut, so I took him home and helped Kathy fix him up. By the time I went back to look for Michael, they’d set the market on fire. I couldn’t find him. I looked everywhere.” Her voice broke on the last word. She hung her head. Lynx’s throat closed up. The unfamiliar sight of Maryanne this close to breaking down made his gut churn with helpless anger at those who’d done this to her. To all of them. “Maryanne. How long has that fire been burning?” Wolf’s deep voice was calm, his usual gruffness smoothed away by the gentle yet firm tone that commanded attention and earned him his place as Owl’s second in the Pack hierarchy. Maryanne’s spine straightened. She blinked the heartbreaking shine from her eyes, and Lynx thought Wolf deserved an especially passionate kiss just for that.

Later. Wolf caught his eye. The expression on Wolf’s face didn’t change, but Lynx felt the warmth of the Pack bond pass between them. He smiled, his shoulder pressed tight to Rabbit’s. The backs of their hands bumped one another. Lynx laced his fingers through Rabbit’s and squeezed. Rabbit squeezed back. Nuzzled the side of Lynx’s head. Surrounded by his Brothers’ love, Lynx believed he could conquer the world. “Those goddamned Brass bastards set the fire just a few hours ago.” Maryanne’s face hardened, her eyes flashing in the dim, flickering light of the two lanterns making a valiant effort at illuminating the tremendous room. “Thank God Em had a feeling they might start something sooner rather than later. She started spreading the word to meet up here if anything happened. I reckon their big mistake was goin’ around killin’ folks first. That tipped ’em off, and people started coming here.” “And not all of us’re as helpless as the groundhogs.” The female voice—not to mention the way she spat the last word as if it were a piece of maggot-ridden carrion—sounded familiar. A swift scan of the crowd nearest the door told Lynx why. He grinned at the young woman with the filed, pointed teeth and the jagged black tattoo etched into the skin of her face like a mask. “Jane. Right?” The girl glared at him. “That was my slave name. The name given to me by my tribe and the Mother is Jessamine.” She stood, holding her left arm close to her body. “I don’t guess you brought an extra weapon, Brothers.” Horse eyed her with undisguised suspicion. “Lynx. No.” Lynx thought Horse’s misgivings had more to do with Jessamine’s grayish face and the way she swayed on her feet than the Carwin Tribe’s not infrequent run-ins with the Norman Tribe. Then again, the last time they’d faced the Normans, both sides had suffered more than one loss. Maybe Horse simply didn’t trust her with a weapon.

Not that they had one to spare. Taking Horse’s arm, Lynx pulled him close and rose on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “She was a slave, just like me and Rabbit. She’ll fight with us.” He drew back and looked up into Horse’s face. The other man didn’t look happy, but he nodded. “I understand.” “Thank you.” Lynx let go of Horse’s arm and turned back to Jessamine. “We don’t have any spare knives. We’ll gladly accept your help, though. We’ll find some other way to arm you.” He knew she wasn’t Pack, but all members of the Norman Tribe learned to fight from the time they were small. It made all of them, not just Pack, dangerous enemies. It could also make them powerful allies, if the occasion arose. Like now. Jessamine’s face untwisted from its scowl, and her lips quirked into a tiny smile. “Thank you, Brother.” “There were Pack in Queen City, other than Lynx and me. Not many, but a few.” Rabbit looked around, searching the crowd. “Did any of them make it here?” She shook her head. Beside her, Maryanne sighed, though she didn’t seem surprised. “Damn.” “They went for all the Pack right away. Killed them.” Jessamine rubbed at her injured arm. “The longer we stand around talking, the more chance the Brass have to find us. We need to get the fuck out of here, right now.” “She’s right.” Lynx drew away from Rabbit enough to study the people huddled on the stone floor. Many were cut, burned or both. More than a few shivered in the grip of obvious shock. All looked exhausted. “Okay. We need to get everyone past the market and into the passageway to the deeps. Maryanne, do we have anyone here in good enough shape to carry supplies and help the others along?” “Me. Kathy. Probably ten or twelve others, I guess.” Maryanne scrubbed a hand over her eyes. “The Brass hit hard right after lights up yesterday. Killed some folks

right in their beds. Dragged other ones off with ’em. There’s not many who got away without a scrape or two.” Looking at the battered group of survivors, a scrape or two seemed to Lynx a huge understatement. He had his doubts some of these people could make it all the way to the secret tunnel, never mind climb over the boulder and walk all the way to Carwin, but what choice did they have? The only other option was to stay here and die. Their fate once they got to Carwin was a question for another day. Survival first. “All right. I suggest we divide whatever food and other supplies we have between the people here healthy enough to carry them. Also have your people here carry the torches, Maryanne. That’ll leave the Pack and Jessamine free to protect the group as we travel.” Lynx glanced at each of his Brothers and Jessamine in turn. “Thoughts?” “Let me carry a torch.” Jessamine shifted her injured arm with a grimace. “I can use it as a weapon if I need to.” “Good idea.” Rabbit’s gaze cut toward the mass of groundhogs, who’d begun talking among themselves again. His voice dropped to a murmur. “How are we going to get these people over that Mother-damned boulder?” Jessamine frowned. “Huh?” “The tunnel we used to get in here is mostly blocked by a big boulder. We climbed over it, but from the looks of it most of these people aren’t up to doing that.” Wolf looked at Maryanne. “Is there really not any other way out of here?” Maryanne shook her head, her expression grim. “Only the main passage to the surface. And the Brass have blocked it.” Lynx thought back to the day the Brass took him. He remembered the way their voices bounced off the walls of the tunnel and the sound of their footfalls walking at least four abreast. His eyebrows rose. “They blocked it? How?”

“I don’t know, really. Em told us about it. She said she heard a huge bang, and one of her spies—Jeff, I think—came running into the clinic a few minutes later with burns and cuts all over him, saying the Brass had made a ball of fire appear in the tunnel somehow—that’s what the bang was—and when the fireball went away, that section of the tunnel had collapsed. That was right before she finally left the clinic and came here.” Maryanne shook her head. “I gotta tell you, I don’t understand it at all. Jeff told Em they didn’t have any wood or anything, so how in the hell did they make fire?” “It doesn’t matter. If that tunnel’s collapsed, going that way’s not an option. We’ll have to get everyone over the boulder somehow or other.” Lynx rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. Great Mother, this was going to be difficult. “All right, no point in waiting any longer. Maryanne, can you and Emily get everyone up and moving? They know the two of you, and they trust you.” “Yeah. Ran—Uh. Rabbit, you come with me, if you don’t mind. Explain the plan to Em.” Maryanne picked her way over to a bag settled against the wall a few feet away and pulled out several of the small, sweet golden apples specially bred to grow underground. She handed one to Rabbit and held out the rest to Wolf, who was closest. “There’s some bread in there too. You boys have a bite to eat before we go. Take some to your Brother outside too. We’ll be back in a minute.” Jessamine watched Maryanne and Rabbit weave through the throng, her eyes narrowed. Taking two of the apples from Wolf, Horse nudged her arm with one of them. “What’re you thinking about?” He bit into his apple, his gaze fixed on Jessamine’s face. “Just wondering about something.” She closed her hand around the apple Horse handed her and rolled it between her fingers. “The day the Brass captured me, they actually crossed the river and attacked our city.” Lynx stared. The Brass roamed every corner of Char, right down to the river’s edge. But he’d never known them to venture across the water and into the woods where the Norman Tribe made their home. The new development disturbed him. “How long ago was that?”

“Several moon-cycles before you showed up, I think. Maybe even a whole season cycle. Who can tell, down here? But that’s not important. Listen.” She moved closer, her face alight with excitement. “When they attacked us, they used that fireball thing to blow a hole in our city wall. I saw what they did. They had this…this tube thing. They lit it and ran off, and it just exploded, and there was this huge gap in our wall. The fire killed a couple of kids. Our Pack killed seven of them before they ran off. Took me with them, of course. Fucking Mother-damned bastards.” Her shoulders hunched. “It was so strange, though. The whole thing. Like they did it just to see if they could.” Wolf’s spine went rigid. Horse stopped chewing, his eyes wide. Lynx stared at his own untouched apple, knowing the three of them were all thinking the same thing. The attack on the Norman Tribe was practice. An experiment. At this moment, the Brass marched on Carwin with a weapon no one expected or knew how to fight. And the only people on the Mother’s Earth who could warn them were here, in this underground room, with no hope of reaching the tribe in time even if they started running now and didn’t stop until they got to Carwin’s gate.

Chapter Thirteen In the end, they had to move the group out of the building and into the cavern in order to effectively organize them. It made Rabbit jumpy, especially since the press of bloody, unwashed, frightened people all around kept Wolf from smelling any Brass who might approach. “I don’t believe any of the Brass are left in Queen City,” Emily told Lynx as the two of them stuffed pouches full of caveberries into Horse’s satchel. She slung it over her shoulder. “No one’s seen any of them since the explosion in the main tunnel.” Lynx gestured to Squirrel, who had the flint. “So you think they’ve all gone?” “Yes.” Emily smiled at Squirrel as he lit Lynx’s torch. She waited until he’d moved on to light Jessamine’s before she spoke again, her smile fading. “They set our city on fire, sealed off our only escape route—as far as they knew—and left those of us they hadn’t already killed here to die by suffocation or starvation.” Her eyelids closed. Fluttered open again. She looked old, haunted and full of sorrow. “The crops the farmers had at the market are completely gone, except for what we have here. They smashed the machines, so the power’s out. Not that it’s been all that reliable recently. And they burned almost all the fields. Only Maryanne’s fields and the hemp fields escaped. The wheat dies quickly without the sunlamps and misting system. I suppose that’s the only reason they didn’t bother with it. They knew Maryanne and her people would put up a fight.” She let out a humorless laugh. “No one’s figured out a way to eat hemp. Otherwise I think they would’ve burned it too. Or maybe George, Ashley and their people fought them off, who knows.” Lynx didn’t want to tell her. But he had to. They had to pass the bodies to get to the secret tunnel. He took Emily’s hand in his. “Emily, we found George and Ashley in the tunnel to the deeps. They’re dead.” Her lips thinned. “The Brass?”

He nodded. Licked his lips, nervous. How much did Emily and the rest know about the brutality of which their former leaders were capable? “There’s more. Ashley. They—” “Don’t say it.” Emily wrapped her arms around herself and looked away. “I’m sure not everyone knows these things. But I’ve tended their victims before. When they don’t end up as food, that is.” Lynx wished he had some way to comfort her. Faced with her grief and the secrets she’d kept over the years, Lynx hated the Brass just a little bit more. Rabbit trotted up to them. “We’re ready to move out, Lynx.” He glanced at Emily, then back at Lynx. “Oh. George and Ashley.” Lynx nodded. “We should warn Maryanne too. And anyone else who knew them and might see.” “I’ll do it.” Rabbit laid a gentle hand on Emily’s thin shoulder. “I’m sorry, Emily.” Her smile returned, wan and sad. She patted his hand. “Thank you.” Rabbit held her gaze for a moment, then darted a wide-eyed look at Lynx before striding off through the horde of people. Emily watched him go. Her eyes glittered in the torchlight. “Brother Lynx, I don’t believe I’ve told you this yet, but I’m very happy to see you again.” She blinked, and the tears spilled over to roll down her cheeks. Lynx swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Me too.”

The fires still raged through the center of Queen City when the group entered the main cavern and began to make their way along the periphery. What the flames found to consume at this point, Lynx had no idea. Rabbit assured him that plenty of ancient wooden buildings still remained, a remnant of the time when the founders of the city had brought building materials from aboveground to recreate the familiar shapes of a life they’d lost forever when the Great Mother rose against them.

Such was Rabbit’s theory, at least. It made Lynx smile in spite of everything. Only Bear had ever matched Rabbit’s curiosity for all things ancient, and his thirst for knowledge about the old world had made Rabbit’s look like a child’s passing fancy. Some of the groundhogs and slaves wanted to go look for missing friends or loved ones, but Rabbit and Wolf both flatly refused to allow it. “The air’s already going bad,” Wolf insisted, calm in the face of the strangers grumbling at him from a safe distance. “In a few hours, we won’t be able to breathe at all. And the air in that tunnel to the deeps was already going bad when we got here.” He pointed toward the irregular arch opening into blackness only a couple hundred paces away. “If we don’t go now, people are going to start dying because they can’t breathe.” Rabbit stood beside his Brother, head held high. “Wolf’s right. We can’t stop anyone from staying here and looking for the people you want to find, but we have a responsibility to lead those who want to get out alive.” He aimed a solemn, steady gaze at Maryanne, who’d insisted on walking up front with Rabbit and Wolf. “Maryanne. We need to move on.” She sighed. “Yeah. I know.” Cupping her hands around her mouth, she lifted her head and raised her voice to a shout. “Listen up, folks. We’re moving out. Ain’t no guarantee of gettin’ out of here alive in any case, but if you want your best chance at it, you want to go with these boys. You wanna stay and look for someone who’s missin’, that’s on you. Follow this tunnel to the eleventh cut in the right-hand wall, climb over the big boulder, and follow the tunnel out. But the longer you wait, the harder it gets. That’s all, I guess.” She dropped her arms and raised her eyebrows at Lynx, who’d come up to the front to lead the way in case the torches went out. “Well. What’re we waitin’ for?” Lynx laughed. He couldn’t help it. Stepping to the front of the tight-packed group, he clapped Wolf on the back. “Keep an ear and a nose out at the rear. You’re our best bet to know if anyone’s following us.”

Wolf twirled his knife between his fingers. “I almost wish the Mother-damned bastards would try it. I miss the sound of their guts hitting the ground.” He jogged off toward the rear of the assembled mass. Maryanne grinned. “Confident young’un, that one. I like that.” Rabbit shot a fond look at Maryanne. “I’m taking the right flank, with Squirrel. Horse and Jessamine have the left flank. A blue jay call’s the signal for danger. Give us a whippoorwill call when you reach the cut to the tunnel.” He leaned close to kiss Lynx, a light brush of lips that sent a wash of warmth through Lynx’s blood. “Soon, Brother. I love you.” Happiness filled Lynx’s chest like air, only richer, more sustaining. He smiled. Touched Rabbit’s cheek. “And I love you.” A heat entirely inappropriate to the situation blazed in Rabbit’s eyes and vanished before Lynx could grasp it. Rabbit touched Lynx’s hand and was gone, off to his post on the flank. Lynx gulped a couple of deep, cooling breaths, clutched his knife tighter and straightened his spine, ignoring Maryanne’s grin. “All right, people!” he shouted. “We’re moving out. Stay together and keep going, no matter what.” He started walking. The shuffle of three hundred and fifty some odd feet followed him. Maryanne nudged him with her elbow. “Hey, tough guy. Those stars in your eyes gonna get in the way of fightin’ if something happens?” He glanced at her. She raised her eyebrows, her innocent look as fake as any he’d ever seen. He rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” She snickered, and he grinned. A little normalcy felt good right now.

They reached the secret tunnel in excellent time, all things considered. Lynx gave the whippoorwill call first, then sent the first person he saw who wasn’t doubled over in pain and/or vomiting to find Emily.

“How in the Mother’s name are we going to get these people over the barrier?” He gestured at the boulder, lit by Maryanne’s torch. “Half of them can’t even stand up straight right now.” “Em has herbs for the nausea and headaches and stuff.” Maryanne stopped, panting, her skin pasty and beaded with sweat. “But somethin’ tells me we ain’t got time for that.” “You’re right. We need to get everyone over the barrier as quickly as possible. The air’s fresher over there. They’ll feel better.” Lynx looked up as Emily hurried over to him, her face pale and pinched but her eyes clear. “Emily. How bad is it back there?” “Not as bad as you might think. I’ve been passing out herbs for headache and nausea ever since we entered the tunnel, trying to keep illnesses at bay. I think it’s working, for the most part, though plenty of people are still sick.” She gave Lynx a grim smile. “It could have been much, much worse.” Lynx laughed from sheer relief. “Absolutely.” He smiled at Rabbit and Squirrel, who came dragging up at that moment, both looking rather green. “All right, I want you two to go over first. Wolf, Horse and me will help the groundhogs over, then we’ll go over last.” He took Emily’s hand. She wasn’t going to like what he had to say next. “Emily, I’d like for you to go over first after Rabbit and Squirrel.” As he’d expected, she protested. “Lynx, I may be needed here. So many people are already ill, and—” “And it’s going to be hard for you to treat them here in this tunnel, where you’re not feeling your best yourself and the cause of their sickness isn’t going away.” Rabbit touched Emily’s shoulder, his expression pleading. “Come on, Em. It’ll be better if you’re over there, where you can really treat people. Please.” Lynx wasn’t surprised when the stubbornness melted from Emily’s face and she nodded. “Very well. You do have a point.” Rabbit smiled. “Thank you.”

Horse strode through the crowd toward them. If the air in the tunnel affected him, it didn’t show. “We need to start getting these people over the barrier. Some of them are really sick.” “Me and Squirrel are going over first, then Emily. After that, you and Lynx’ll start helping everyone else over as fast as you can.” Rabbit grasped Horse’s hand. “Give me a boost, will you?” Horse knelt on the ground at the base of the boulder. With a swift smile for Lynx, Rabbit took Emily’s bag of medicinal supplies, slung it over his own shoulder, climbed from Horse’s knee to his shoulder and hauled himself up and over the top of the boulder. A moment later, a whippoorwill call sounded the all-clear signal from the other side. Horse held out a hand for Squirrel. “Your turn, Brother.” Squirrel bent to drop a kiss on Horse’s lips before scrambling over the boulder, torch in hand. Horse beckoned to Emily. “Come on, Emily. Just climb up onto my shoulders. Wolf’ll help you get up to the top of the boulder from there.” Lynx looked around. Wolf indeed stood behind him. He was glad. Wolf had the height Lynx lacked to help Emily and the others over the barrier. Emily pressed Lynx’s hand as she passed. He gave her an encouraging smile. She climbed onto Horse’s knee, then up to his shoulders. Wolf’s big hands steadied her and gave her the extra push she needed to grab the top of the boulder and pull herself over. He didn’t bother to warn the men on the other side. Rabbit and Squirrel would watch out for her and keep her safe. When Horse turned her way, Maryanne crossed her arms. “Don’t you even give me that look. I ain’t goin’ ’til everybody else is over.” Lynx wanted to argue, but he knew there was no point. If Maryanne didn’t want to do something, no force on the Mother’s Earth would make her do it. He shook his head. “All right. But I’m only letting you get away with this because Emily’s already over there.”

She snorted as if to say I know better, but kept any further dispute to herself.

Time passed with no frame of reference while the Queen City survivors climbed over the barrier between the tunnels one by one. Lynx felt as though he’d spent a lifetime doing nothing but encouraging the survivors—eager, apathetic, terrified, grief-stricken, somewhere in the limbo between emotions—to climb for their lives. It could’ve been the same day, or the next, or several days gone, for all Lynx knew. He wondered if Carwin still stood. If Kitten and Fox and Owl and the rest of the Pack still lived. If the Carwin Tribe still survived. Don’t. Not now. You can’t help them yet. In the silence of his heart and gut and mind, he swore swift and terrible revenge on the Brass if… Well. If. By the time Horse and Wolf finally boosted Maryanne over the boulder to the other side, gray mist ate at the edges of Lynx’s vision and his brain felt as though it were trying to throb its way out the seams in his skull. He clenched his teeth against a wave of nausea, shut his eyes and leaned against the wall. Great Mother, if they all made it out of this unscathed, it could only be the Mother’s doing. A large, warm hand squeezed his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked up into Wolf’s clear gray ones. “Lynx? You okay?” Lynx nodded. “I will be. It’s just the air here. It’s getting worse.” He laughed. It sounded rough and scratchy. “How is it not affecting you and Horse?” “It is. Just not as much as you.” Wolf shrugged. “It’s the same with your groundhogs. Some are almost unaffected, some just about can’t stand up. Who knows why? Ask the Great Mother one day when you see Her.”

“Yeah. I’ll do that.” Rising on tiptoe, Lynx grabbed Wolf by the back of his neck and kissed him. “Help me over, Brother?” A wide smile lit Wolf’s face. “Absolutely.” Winding an arm around Lynx’s waist, he led him the few steps to where Horse still knelt on the cold stone as if it didn’t bother him in the least. “Horse, you go over after Lynx. I’ll go last. I’m the tallest, and the least affected by the air.” Horse nodded. “That sounds fine.” He took Lynx’s hand. “Up and over, Brother.” “Okay.” Moved by a sudden rush of affection for this stalwart young man, Lynx cupped Horse’s cheek in his free hand, bent and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you.” Horse smiled. Lynx rarely saw him smile, and it changed his entire demeanor. “We’re Pack, Brother. You’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s how it is, and it’s good that way.” Not the most eloquent words, maybe, but Lynx understood the meaning behind them. “Yes, it is.” He rubbed his thumb over the corner of Horse’s mouth, then stood. “Wolf, be ready. I’ll try not to fall, but I’m pretty dizzy.” “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Wolf moved closer, his hand at Lynx’s back as Lynx climbed, swaying, onto Horse’s knee. Lynx made it to Horse’s shoulders and up to the top of the boulder with Wolf’s help. He looked down at his Brothers. Wolf grinned and Horse gave him a small, solemn nod. They were good men. Good Brothers. Lynx trusted them with his life. He loved them. Not like you love Rabbit. It was true. It would always be true. He was beginning to understand that. But his love for Rabbit didn’t have to exclude his love for the rest of his Pack. It astounded him that he was only now beginning to understand that too.

Swinging his legs over the top of the rock, he dropped over the other side. Rabbit caught his ankles and eased him down onto the pile of rubble. The moment he slid down the slope and got his balance, Lynx caught Rabbit in his arms and kissed him, deep and slow, putting all the things words couldn’t express into the press of his mouth and the touch of his hands. Rabbit pulled away with a start when Horse clattered onto the pile of stones. He favored Lynx with a dazed smile. “What was that for?” “Because I love you. And you’re more important to me than anyone, even though I love all my Brothers and I couldn’t give up any of them.” Lynx stroked Rabbit’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t the time or the place. I just wanted to tell you. We still have a long way to go and you never know what’s going to happen.” Rabbit’s eyes went dark, his expression softening into an odd mix of bliss and sadness. One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “You’re my world, Lynx. My life.” He kissed Lynx’s nose. Glanced toward the boulder, where Wolf was slithering down the stony slope. “When we get back to Carwin, Brother, I’m making love to you all day and all night, until no one can tell where I end and you begin.” The whispered promise stirred a sweet havoc in Lynx’s insides. He squeezed Rabbit’s backside, ignoring the stares and occasional nervous laughs from groundhogs apparently unused to watching people kiss in public. “Then let’s hurry home as fast as we can.” Rabbit caressed Lynx’s cheek as he drew away. “Speaking of which, we’re all here now. Time to move out.” Lynx watched Rabbit move through the herd of humanity, shouting instructions as he went, and wished they were alone. Just him and Rabbit, or at least the two of them and their Brothers. They would travel faster, and sex wouldn’t have to wait until they returned to Carwin. But they weren’t alone. They had over one hundred survivors to take care of. This is why they’d returned here, after all—to save these people from certain death at

the hands of the Brass. They’d succeeded. The price of success? Their own wants and needs would have to wait, for now. Lynx looked around at the men, women and children around him. Dirty, battered, with nothing but the clothes on their backs and what little food they could carry, they nevertheless faced a world they’d never seen and couldn’t imagine with backs straight and heads held high. No warrior had ever performed an act more courageous. In Lynx’s opinion, such people were worth saving.

They made it a few dozen paces past the fork in the tunnel before they had to stop, when one of the children passed out. Rabbit decided to call a short halt for the whole group, the better to keep them going later on. After a quick examination, Emily decided the child was simply exhausted and dehydrated. She gave his parents a bag of water and strict instructions to carry the boy and have him drink a little water every few minutes, then sent them off to rest. Sighing, Emily rose to her feet. “I suspect we’ll have more of those problems. No one was prepared for what happened. We haven’t many supplies.” “We’ll have to do the best we can, then. That’s all we can do.” Rabbit handed Emily his own water skin. “Here. You should drink something while you can.” She took it with a grateful smile. “Thank you.” Nearby, Squirrel stared back the way they’d come with a frown. He seemed as though he were about to say something, then he shook his head and went back to pacing a tight circle like he’d been doing ever since they’d stopped. Lynx looked around but saw nothing. He walked up to Squirrel. “What’s wrong, Brother?”

“I’m not sure. Something just feels…off. Almost like someone’s following us. But you haven’t seen anything, Rabbit hasn’t heard anything, and Wolf hasn’t smelled anyone.” Squirrel shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s pretty vague. Maybe it’s nothing.” Lynx had known Squirrel long enough not to discount the feelings he sometimes got. Especially when the tension in his body contradicted his dismissive words. Drawing his knife and holding it down beside his thigh so as not to panic everyone, Lynx laid his other hand on Squirrel’s shoulder. “I’m going to take a look. I’ll give a blue-jay call if there’s danger and I can’t get away. Otherwise, I’ll be back in a minute. Okay?” “All right.” Squirrel’s eyes cut sideways for a second before going back to his perusal of the tunnel. “Be careful, Brother. Something’s not right.” Nodding, Lynx gave Squirrel’s arm a squeeze, let go and slipped through the crowd toward the rear of the tunnel. As soon as he cleared the edge of the light from the last torch, he lifted his knife into a defensive position. Great Mother, if the Brass had found their escape route and followed them… After a moment, he spotted the glow of an oil lamp turned low, coming closer. He crouched behind an outcropping in the wall of the tunnel and waited. Whoever it was, it wasn’t a Brass patrol. If a stray survivor approached, he would bring them to Emily for treatment. If it turned out to be an enemy? He was Pack. He would do what needed to be done. When the filthy, bedraggled figure came close enough for Lynx to discern features, he grinned in relief. Sheathing his knife, he rose and hurried forward. “Michael!” Michael gave a violent start but relaxed when he saw Lynx. “Liam. Oh, thank God I found you.” Setting his lamp on the ground, he stumbled forward and grasped Lynx’s hand. His own shook. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come this way, but there wasn’t any other way to go, so I had to try.” He looked around, his expression a mix of hope and dread. “Where’s everyone else? Maryanne and the rest? Are they all right? Are they here?”

“Yeah, they’re all fine. They’re up ahead. One of my Brothers sensed something not quite right, like someone following us.” Lynx laughed, though he wondered how Michael had known about the tunnel. “I guess he was right.” Michael chuckled. His voice sounded rough, probably from all the smoke in the main cavern. “I hope you have some water. I couldn’t find a damn thing back in Queen City.” His smile faded. “The whole city’s gone. Just…gone. I just can’t believe they’ve done this.” Lynx had no idea what to say. No words could bring back all Michael and the others had lost. He took Michael’s arm. “Come on. The group’s called a short halt. You can get some food and water and get Emily to check you over.” Michael picked up his lamp and followed Lynx back to where the rest of the survivors waited. When Maryanne saw him, she let out a cry, ran over and threw her arms around him. “Oh, my God, Michael! We thought we’d lost you.” “So did I.” Michael smiled, though Lynx thought it looked strained. “It’s so good to see you.” Drawing back, she beamed at him. “Come sit. I’ll bring you an apple and some water.” “Not too long, though. We have to move on.” Rabbit walked up, grinning, and pulled Michael into a hard hug. “I’m happy you made it, Michael.” For a split second, Michael’s smile slipped and his eyes took on a strange gleam. Lynx didn’t know what to make of it. Before he could decide, the odd expression melted into Michael’s usual warmth and the moment was gone. Rabbit clapped Michael’s shoulder as they drew apart. “Lisa, Kathy and Samuel’re up ahead. They’ll be thrilled to see you.” “I’ll go get ’em,” Maryanne offered. Michael shook his head. “You don’t have to. I know we need to get moving. I’ll find them on my own later.”

“Naw, it’s no trouble. I’ll be right back.” Maryanne patted his arm, then strode off in search of the rest of her former slaves. Michael watched her go with a strange mix of amusement and irritation. “Don’t we need to get a move on? I mean, we don’t want to hang around here if the bad air from Queen City gets in here, do we?” “No, we definitely don’t want to stay in this tunnel for too long. More than that, me and my Brothers need to get back to our own city as quick as we can.” Rabbit shrugged. “But we won’t get far if we don’t let your people rest now and then.” “Hey!” Startled, Lynx turned toward Samuel’s shout. Samuel pushed through the crowd, Lisa and Maryanne at his heels. Kathy followed at a more sedate pace, her cheeks flushed and her lips thinned in a way Lynx knew meant she was furious. Samuel had lost some of the pallor he’d had when he climbed over the barrier, and his eyes no longer had the glassy shine of a person ill from smoke exposure and horrified by the things he’d seen. Samuel stalked toward Michael. “You.” Michael swallowed. “Samuel. Hi.” He gave Lisa and Kathy a halfhearted smile. “God, it’s so good to see all of you.” Before either of the women could say a word, Samuel planted himself right in front of Michael and glared at him. “Traitor.”

Chapter Fourteen The single, ugly word silenced everyone around them. Lynx took in Samuel’s focused anger and Michael’s suddenly hunted expression, and gripped the handle of his knife. He glanced at Squirrel. His Brother’s face mirrored his own unease. Squirrel’s hand rested on his weapon too. Michael let out a laugh. “What? Samuel, come on, what’re you talking about?” Ignoring him, Samuel spun to face Maryanne, who stood nearby looking stunned. “After we lost each other at the market, I found Michael. He was talking to two of the Brass. He was telling them that the Queen’s Redemption would gather at your farm, Maryanne.” Her face went dead white. Michael shook his head. “No, that’s a lie, I was—” “Shut up.” It said a lot about Maryanne’s influence over all of them that Michael did as she told him. She stared at Samuel. “You said you hadn’t seen him.” Samuel studied the dusty stone at his feet. “They told him it didn’t matter, that we’d all die anyway and they didn’t have time to waste going after us. They left and said if he followed them they’d kill him. He followed them. He never knew I was there.” Lifting his head, Samuel pinned Michael with a poisonous look. “If I’d known he would live to come after us, I’d’ve warned you, believe me.” Lynx and Rabbit shared a glance. Lynx knew the same thought ran through both their minds. Before, they’d both believed Samuel to be a possible traitor himself. It seemed suspicious that Samuel was the one accusing Michael now. They needed to know the truth. Rabbit touched Maryanne’s arm. “We can take Samuel and Michael both to the Carwin Tribal Seer. She’ll be able to figure out who’s telling the truth.” He touched his knife. The weapon remained in its sheath, but both Michael’s and Samuel’s gazes zeroed in on it, which Lynx figured was the point. “I’m sorry, guys. But this is the only way we can get to the bottom of this question.”

“Fine by me.” Samuel’s gaze remained steady on Michael’s face. Michael said nothing. His jaw went tight, his cheeks red beneath the dirt. He nodded once. Lynx decided he’d watch Michael most carefully of the two on the journey home. Keeping a wary eye on Michael and Samuel both, Kathy circled the two men and held out Rabbit’s bag, which she’d carried from the farm. “Here. Couldn’t help noticing you’ve got hemp rope in there.” “What? You’re restraining us?” Michael backed away a few paces. “You can’t be serious.” “Of course they are. And why shouldn’t they be? They don’t have any way of knowing for sure that I’m telling the truth. I can’t expect them to just take my word for it.” Head held high, Samuel crossed his wrists behind him. “Go ahead and tie me up, Rabbit. It’s fine. I hope your Seer really can read my mind, because I want everyone to know that I’m telling the truth, and Michael’s a traitor who sold us out to the Brass for…” He laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. “I don’t even know. What’d they promise you, Michael? Women whenever you wanted them? Human meat? Or just the chance to live when they murdered the rest of us?” Something in Samuel’s taunt hit a nerve. With a hoarse cry, Michael shoved Samuel backward into Lisa, sprang sideways so that Squirrel’s knife dealt him a deep cut to the shoulder rather than a killing blow to the heart, and grabbed Maryanne around the throat with his injured arm. In a surprisingly swift move, he pulled a strange metal weapon from the waist of his pants at the small of his back, where it had been hidden beneath his shirt, and shoved what appeared to be the business end into Maryanne’s ear. “Stay away. I’ll kill her.” Lynx froze, along with everyone else in the tunnel. He gave a tiny shake of his head to Wolf, who stood a couple of paces behind Michael with his knife drawn. First they needed to know what this new weapon was, what it could do and

whether or not Michael actually knew enough about it himself to use it properly. Then they’d find their opportunity and bring him down. Keeping his gaze on Michael, Lynx leaned close to Rabbit. “Do you know what it is?” Rabbit nodded. “It’s called a gun. The ancients used them to kill each other.” He worried his lower lip between his teeth. “Maybe the Brass found them and are using them. That would explain the fireball too. Ancient weapons, I mean. I think they had stuff like that. Weapons that made fire. I guess the Brass found more weapons than I’d thought.” “Yes! Yes.” Michael’s lips skinned back from his teeth in a snarl. “They gave me this. I found that stuff for them, so they gave me this. I know how to use it. Just… Just let me go and I won’t kill her. I don’t want to kill her.” Looking at Michael’s pasty skin, his sweat-beaded upper lip and the panic etched into every tense line of his face and body, Lynx knew that part, at least, was true. Michael might’ve tried to turn them in to the Brass, but he wouldn’t kill anyone himself. Least of all Maryanne. Lynx stretched the fingers of his right hand. Curled them once more around his knife handle. “Is there any chance of that thing…well, making fire or whatever by accident?” He kept his voice to a low murmur, for Rabbit’s ears only. A swift look from Rabbit said he’d understood the real meaning of by accident. He shrugged, and Lynx bit back a frustrated groan. So, they had no way of knowing whether or not the gun thing would do…whatever it did and end up hurting someone if they attacked Michael and took him down. But as Lynx saw it, they had no choice. Michael had become dangerous. Letting him go to wander free wasn’t an option. Lynx pitied him in this state, though. He didn’t want to kill him. “Let’s try to take him alive,” Rabbit whispered, unknowingly echoing Lynx’s thoughts. “Maybe we can still bring him to the Seer.”

Lynx nodded. The problem was, he only saw one way of taking Michael alive. Mother, forgive me. He glanced at Rabbit, silently asking him to play along. “Okay, Michael. We’ve talked it over. You’re free to go.” Wolf and Squirrel both stared in surprise, but neither said a word. Not for the first time, Lynx felt a fierce gratitude for his Pack, for the bond that allowed them this absolute trust in one another. His Brothers trusted that his reasons for lying outweighed their Pack code of honesty. Michael’s head turned this way and that, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. Then he backed toward the wall, the gun still pressed to Maryanne’s ear. “Thank you. That’s all I want. Just to be free. That’s all. They were supposed to take me with them and let me go, just let me go, but they lied, God, they lied.” Lynx watched with growing alarm as Michael kept going with no sign of releasing Maryanne. Behind Michael, Wolf crept closer, ready to strike at the slightest signal. Squirrel edged closer as well, his weapon in a relaxed fighting grip. Horse moved up on Michael’s left flank, just outside the range of his peripheral vision. Jessamine stood on the edge of the watching crowd, still but poised to leap into action if need be. The Pack—plus Jessamine—had Michael surrounded. Which could go very, very wrong if Michael figured that out too soon. “Lisa, Kathy, please clear a path for Michael, if you don’t mind.” While the two women set about moving their fellow groundhogs out of harm’s way, Lynx scoured his mind for something to say that would calm Michael instead of setting him off. “Michael. You need to let go of Maryanne now.” He shook his head and dug his gun harder into Maryanne’s ear. She grimaced but kept silent. “No. If I let her go, you’ll kill me.”

From the corner of his eye, Lynx saw Wolf creep closer, his knife poised to stab and his gaze locked to the weapon in Michael’s hand. Lynx sheathed his knife and held up his hands. “I won’t kill you. I promise.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie. But the Great Mother saw through technicalities, and he knew it. Michael stared at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “You swear?” Fighting the rise of bile in his throat, Lynx nodded. He couldn’t make himself say it. Michael’s regard didn’t waver. His gun did, though, and that was all it took. Maryanne stomped on his foot. When he shifted in surprise, Wolf leapt on him from behind. A tremendous bang sounded as Wolf grabbed Michael’s weapon arm. The two of them fell to the ground with Michael on the bottom, his arm twisted behind him and Wolf’s knife at his throat. Lynx noticed the sudden, bright pain in his left arm coinciding with the earsplitting bang, and he knew Michael’s gun thing had caused it. But he didn’t realize the extent of his injury until he ran over to help Wolf restrain his screaming, struggling prisoner and the arm refused to bear his weight without severe pain. He knew what that meant. “Fuck.” He pointed at the gun lying on the ground not far away. “That thing broke my fucking arm.” Even Michael looked shocked. The momentary lull in his movements allowed Squirrel and Horse to bind his hands and feet with ropes. Emily hurried up to Lynx with her medical kit in hand. “Here, let me see that.” Taking his knife from its sheath, she enlarged the hole she’d found in his shirt, put the knife back, got her fingers into the tear in the fabric and ripped the garment right off his body. Her face was stony as she felt gently around the surprisingly small, circular wound and on up to the muscle and bone of his upper arm. “The bone does seem to be fractured, though it’s not a through-and-through break, thank God. There’s also a lot of swelling around the break, even more so than I

would have expected. Not too much bleeding, so whatever went in there didn’t hit any major blood vessels.” She bent and pulled out a bag of water and a cloth, and began cleaning the wound. “Also, there is no exit wound. So whatever caused this wound is still in your arm. Perhaps I can get it out later, with the right tools and under the right circumstances, but I am certainly not going to try it here. I might cause worse damage than you already have.” “It’ll be fine until we get back to Carwin.” Lynx nodded toward Michael, who now lay bound on the stone floor. Kathy bent over him, stroking his hair and speaking low and soft in his ear. All the fight had gone out of him. He stared into the middle distance, for all the world as if he were already dead. Lynx felt bad for him, in spite of what the man had just done. “I don’t understand why he did this. Why he tried to sell us out, why he attacked Maryanne. Any of it.” “Neither do I.” Sighing, Emily folded a bandage and pressed it to the bleeding wound in Lynx’s arm. “I wish I could do something to help him, but I’m not sure how. I don’t know how to fix whatever made him turn into a traitor to his people.” Lynx smiled and fell silent as Emily wound a strip of cloth around his upper arm to hold the bandage in place, then used more cloth to fashion a sling to immobilize the broken bone. If anyone could help Michael, it would be Emily. She wouldn’t want to hear Lynx’s uncertainty about whether Michael deserved a second chance.

When they reached the end of the tunnel, they found darkness had fallen outside. After a short discussion, Lynx, his Pack Brothers, Maryanne and Emily decided to move on by night. The Brass posed a danger, but hopefully a mass escape wouldn’t cross their minds. Nightfeeders and other nocturnal predators weren’t a concern, with a group as large as this one. With no reason to restrain Samuel any longer, Wolf had cut him loose as soon as they got Michael under control. Now, since Lynx was out of commission, they

recruited Samuel to help move the cars from in front of the doorway leading outside. “Everyone stay as close together as you can,” Rabbit shouted from his spot standing atop one of the metal car frames. “There are animals out there that hunt in the dark, and there are also wild people that will kill and eat you if they can get you alone. They’re called nightfeeders. But neither the nightfeeders or the animals will approach this big a group unless they’re starving to death. We just need to keep close together and keep our eyes and ears open, that’s all. Okay?” Most people nodded, though many looked puzzled. Lynx heard a few whispers of “What’s animals?” He shook his head. Hopefully the groundhogs would follow Rabbit’s directions even if they didn’t understand why they needed to. Rabbit exited first, followed by Lynx. Emily had wanted him to hang back because of his injury, but his Pack Brothers had backed up his argument that the whole group needed his superior nighttime vision to make sure nothing sinister lurked in the darkness before they brought everyone outside. Lynx peered in all directions, taking his time, while Rabbit cocked his head into an alert, listening position. After several long moments, Lynx glanced at Rabbit. “I don’t see anything but bugs and a couple of rats.” “Same here. There’s no sounds other than what you’d normally hear in Char at night.” Rabbit pointed toward the northeast. “There’s human movement in that direction, probably two, three hundred paces away. Very stealthy. Just one, most likely a nightfeeder. But we’re not going that way, and I seriously doubt it’ll bother us even if it followed us.” Lynx studied the tangle of rubble in that direction. “What if it’s a Brass?” Rabbit shrugged. “Even less to worry about, if you ask me. We can take down one of them with no trouble at all.” “Yeah. You’re right.” Turning around, Lynx leaned back through the doorway. “Wolf? Come on out here. Everything seems all clear, but we need your nose to be sure.”

“Okay.” Wolf gave the door a shove with one solid shoulder to make more room and slipped outside. He lifted his head to sniff the air. He took a deeper sniff and wrinkled his nose. “No Brass. No recent campfires. I smell rats. There’s a dead animal to the east somewhere. No blood, it died of natural causes. And there’s a nightfeeder a little ways off to the northeast.” Rabbit and Lynx exchanged a relieved look. Lynx gripped Wolf’s shoulder. “Rabbit heard it moving around out there. We hoped it was just a nightfeeder.” “Yeah. It is.” Wrapping an arm around each of his Brothers, Wolf kissed first Lynx, then Rabbit. “All right, Brothers. Let’s get these people out and get moving. I’m anxious to get home.”

Lynx and Wolf stayed outside to keep watch while Rabbit headed back in to help Maryanne organize the group and keep them all together for the move outside. Squirrel, Horse and Jessamine came outside to guard the people, while Samuel, Lisa, Kathy and Emily carried torches and made sure no one strayed in the darkness. The whole thing wore on Lynx’s nerves far more than a patrol ever had. Onehundred-plus brave but frightened and untrained people with no clue how to fight presented a much different scenario than a handful of warriors trained for battle from childhood. At last, Maryanne emerged from the tunnel with Rabbit behind her, and they were ready to go. Rabbit and Lynx took their place at the head of the group and they began moving. Rabbit set as quick a pace as he thought the groundhogs could manage. Their Brothers at the flanks and the rear had instructions to signal with the alreadyestablished blue-jay call if they sensed, smelled or otherwise spotted danger, a mockingbird song if people were falling behind and they needed to slow down, and a crow’s call if anyone actually became lost.

Lynx glanced up at the waxing half-moon. Judging by moonrise the past couple of nights, it must be an hour or so before midnight. The Pack traveling alone without stopping could make it to Carwin by midmorning the next day. None of these people were used to walking such a long way, though. They wouldn’t be able to travel as quickly. Great Mother, what do we do when the sun comes up? “Rabbit. Do you think they can move any faster?” The grim expression on Rabbit’s face said he’d guessed Lynx’s thoughts. “I think I’m already pushing them as fast as they’re able to go. A lot of them are injured or have children with them. And they’re not Pack. They don’t know how to push past pain and exhaustion like we do.” He glanced at Lynx, doubt and misery in the downturned corners of his mouth. “But they’ve never seen the sun before. And we all know the Brass have already attacked Carwin, and they have the fireball weapons. Who knows what we’ll find when we get home? I’ve never wanted to run all the way home as much as I do right now, but we can’t, and it isn’t their fault, but…” He didn’t need to finish. Lynx understood perfectly. He turned and dropped a kiss on Rabbit’s shoulder.

As they trudged on, clouds gathered overhead. Dawn crept in gray and drizzly, sparing the refugees from the brightness and heat of the unfiltered sun. Not that the rain was easy for them to deal with, being as far beyond their experience as natural sunlight. Most shivered with cold, though the light summer shower felt warm on Lynx’s skin. He thanked the Mother for the closeness of the ruins in this area and the height of the partially intact buildings. Otherwise, he feared the sheer sense of space, of the sky stretching to the horizon, would terrify some of these people who’d spent their entire lives underground. They pushed on without stopping. They ate on the move, ignoring Lynx and Rabbit’s plea for them to halt for a while to let the injured and the children rest.

As Maryanne said, most of the groundhogs found the outdoors distressing and wanted to get to their destination and get inside more than anything else. The rain stopped around midday, occasional sunbeams breaking through the thinning clouds. The refugees walked with their heads hung low, staring at the ground. Parents shielded their children’s eyes with their hands. Finally, as the ragged clouds parted to reveal patches of blue sky overhead, Lynx spotted the tall pine growing forty paces to the north of Carwin’s wall in the otherwise empty field surrounding the city. Smiling, he took Maryanne’s arm. “See that really tall tree there? It’s just outside Carwin’s walls. It’s only a short walk away now.” She stared wide-eyed at the pine. “Goddamn. That’s one hell of a tree.” “Yeah. They grow bigger outside.” He stopped, let go of Maryanne’s arm and held up his hand as a signal for the rest of the group to stop. “Okay. We need to get all of you hidden.” “I don’t like it.” “I know. But there’s no help for it. We have to make sure it’s safe before we take everyone in there.” Maryanne sighed but didn’t argue. Wolf’s whippoorwill call sounded from the west. Lynx called back to Wolf, then glanced at Maryanne. “The building’s safe. Lead them in. I’ll go around and help explain what’s happening as we go.” She gave him a sour look. “You’d better come back. All of you. Hear me?” He didn’t smile. Didn’t even want to. He and his Brothers were about to head into the unknown, going back to Carwin. Maybe the Brass were gone, defeated. Maybe they were dead. Maybe they’d taken over the city. With no way of knowing for sure, Lynx couldn’t truthfully promise he’d come back.

“If we don’t come back, get Jessamine to help you across the river to the grasslands. It’s safe there, and she has to go that way to get back to her tribe anyhow.” He had no idea how the groundhogs would survive in the vast, empty fields beyond the river, but it was better than trying to live in the ruins. “Come on, we have to get these people inside.” Maryanne stared at him for a moment, her expression inscrutable. She took his hand and squeezed it hard, then strode off toward the open doorway where Wolf waited. As she went, she called to her people to follow. Lynx saw lots of puzzled expressions, but every single one of them also looked relieved. He remembered how much he’d missed the sun, the wind and the rain during his captivity underground, and his heart went out to them. A small boy stumbled into Lynx’s legs. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his arm. The child mumbled an apology and staggered after his mother. Giving himself a mental shake, Lynx began moving through the crowd, telling everyone to get inside and stay there until Lynx, Rabbit and the other Pack returned. If they returned.

Once they had Maryanne and the others safely hidden, Lynx and his Brothers gathered in the shelter of a vine-hung metal skeleton about twenty-five paces away to go over their plan for approaching Carwin. “When the ruins end, we’ll use the apple orchard for cover until we get to the field. I think we’ll be okay crossing the space between the ruins and the orchard, but we can crawl in the grass if we need to. Once we get near the edge of the orchard, we can see the north wall and hopefully get some idea of how things went between the tribe and the Brass.” Wolf aimed an uncomfortable look at Lynx, who scowled. “Come on, Lynx. If Carwin’s taken, someone has to go back and warn Maryanne and the rest. You’re injured. You know you’re the obvious choice.”

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Sighing, Lynx leaned against Rabbit’s side. “I’ll wait in the orchard, under cover, for your signal. If everything’s fine, one of you come back with me to help bring everyone in. I don’t want to lose anyone now, when we’re so close to home.” No one tried to tell him to stay away from Carwin if it had been taken. His Brothers knew better. “All right. So, we’re all agreed?” Wolf gazed at each of them in turn. They all nodded. With a grim smile, Wolf unsheathed his knife. “For Carwin, then. May the Great Mother guide us, Brothers.” “For Carwin,” Lynx echoed, along with his fellow Pack. They drew their weapons and jogged off through the wilderness of ruins.

They encountered not a living soul on the way to the outskirts of Carwin’s walled city. Not so much as a skulking wild dog or a mouse scuttling through the debris. An oppressive silence hung over the ruins, so thick the clank of blade on blade and the thrum of bowstrings carried beyond the far side of the apple orchard. None of them needed to discuss it to know what those sounds meant. They ran through the orchard, using the dappled shade as cover out of habit. At the edge of the grassy, weed-grown field around the city, the five of them crouched behind the meager shelter of a camellia bush and absorbed what the Brass had done to their home. The hole in the city wall wasn’t as large as they’d feared, but it was enough. The ancient fireball weapon the Brass had brought had torn an irregular opening in the base of the wall large enough to allow probably two men to pass through together. They’d clearly been working to enlarge the opening by chipping away with metal tools at the weak place they’d created in the wall. The Carwin Tribe would’ve found some way to plug the hole on their side, obviously, but in the meantime it seemed as though at least a few of the Brass had gotten through— and possibly continued to get through—since the sound of hand-to-hand knife

combat came from inside the walls. Atop the wall, the Pack’s best archers picked off any Brass bold or stupid enough to get within their range. “Metal shields. They have metal shields.” Horse shook his head as an arrow bounced off the wide, dull shield one of the Brass held above his head during his sprint between the hole in the wall and what appeared to be the Brass encampment about three hundred paces to the northeast. “Maybe we can try a stealth approach. Sneak into camp and slit their throats one by one.” “Or go around to the gate and walk right into the city so we can help.” Squirrel glared at the Brass with such hatred Lynx wondered that they didn’t spontaneously combust. “I bet they don’t even have the gate guarded.” Rabbit laid a hand on his younger Brother’s shoulder. “Whether they do or not, Brother, we can probably do more good out here. Most of the enemy is on this side of the wall. Four or five more people on the inside won’t make that much difference. We need to find a way to defeat them from this side.” Wolf studied the men milling around at the base of the wall. His thumb rubbed over his knife handle, over and over in a constant rhythm, a habit Lynx knew signaled deep thought. “I think we should try stealth. I think we should try the camp first. Sabotage any other fireball weapons they have, if we can figure out how, take any other weapons they have stored there, kill whoever we find. Then we hit the group at the wall. Take down whoever strays from the group. Keep the whole thing as quick and quiet as possible. We don’t want to be noticed until we’ve killed as many as we can. After they figure out we’re here, we fight until we’re dead, or they are.” His gaze dropped to the knife in his hands. He ran his fingertips over the blade, the touch as reverent as if he were caressing Owl’s cock. “So. Do we have a plan?” Horse and Squirrel murmured their consent. Rabbit nodded, his fingers threading through Lynx’s. Lynx pressed his hand. “The city’s not lost. You need me in battle.” Wolf’s mouth curved into a sad smile. “We might. But those people need you more right now. What if we were all killed, Lynx?” He shook his head. “It’s not fair

to keep them waiting, when it’s entirely possible that none of us will ever come back.” “Maryanne knows what to do. Jessamine will help them.” Please don’t leave me behind. Please. “Doesn’t matter. If the Brass win here, that means they might still be running around the ruins. None of them have the skills to survive the ruins and the Brass. Jessamine doesn’t even know her way through the ruins.” Wolf reached over to touch Lynx’s cheek. “We’re going to do our best to make sure we bring your Rabbit back to you, Brother. That’s as much as I can promise.” Lynx’s throat closed up. In his usual straightforward way, Wolf cut straight to the heart of Lynx’s fears—he didn’t want to lose Rabbit. Not again. If the Great Mother took Rabbit home today, Lynx wanted to go with him. The Mother does what she does. It’s not your place to second-guess Her. Do your part, keep your peace and face whatever comes of it with courage. Unable to speak, Lynx nodded. He lifted Rabbit’s hand, still joined with his, and kissed it. Rabbit hooked an arm around Lynx’s waist. His gaze locked with Lynx’s. “Go back and stay with the groundhogs. Keep them all hidden. One of us will go back to get you once it’s safe. If no one comes by an hour before sunset, go to the big twisted apple tree in the middle of the orchard. We’ll give one of the usual calls, if we’re able. If you don’t hear from one of us at all by sunset, we’re either captured or killed, or can’t call for some other reason. We’ll meet you by the big tree and sleep in the orchard if we can. If we’re dead or captured—” “If that happens, I’ll deal with it then. Not before.” Lynx tilted his head to kiss Rabbit. “May the Mother guide you. I love you, Rabbit.” “And I love you.” Rabbit stroked Lynx’s cheek. Kissed him again. “The Mother be with you, too, Brother.”

Rabbit let go of Lynx. He kissed his other Brothers, then withdrew into the shade of the apple trees as the other four men melted into the tall weeds between the trees and the field, making their way toward the Brass encampment. Lynx watched the faint ripple of their passing with an empty ache in his chest. Mother, stay with them. Keep them safe. Turning away, he began the trudge back to the groundhogs’ hiding place.

Maryanne and Jessamine sat outside the building’s doorway, half hidden behind a hanging honeysuckle vine. Lynx couldn’t bring himself to scold. He knew the particular agony of waiting. They both jumped to their feet when they spotted him. To their credit, neither said a word until he got close enough for quiet speech. “So? What’s going on?” Jessamine grabbed his good arm just as an unexpected jolt of dizziness made the world waver around him. She frowned. “You should sit. You look terrible.” “That goddamn arm. Losing blood, pain from the break—and don’t you tell me it don’t hurt, ’cause I know that’s a lie—gettin’ dehydrated ’cause you don’t feel like eatin’ or drinkin’ anything when it’s hurtin’.” Maryanne grimaced. “Had a broke arm when I was a young’un. I remember.” “I’m fine.” As if in a deliberate effort to contradict him, a particularly vicious wave of nausea hit him, making him grimace. His vision swam for a second. He blinked until it cleared again. “Let’s go inside. I need to let you all know what’s going on, and I’d just as soon tell all the leaders at the same time.” The hopeful expression on Maryanne’s face fell. Nodding, she pushed the door behind her open and led the way into the cool, musty dimness beyond. The groundhogs and slaves congregated on the floor of the vast open space, some sitting and sipping from their water bags or nibbling whatever food they’d

brought, most curled up sleeping on blankets or even the bare floor. The whole place reeked of stale air, animal urine, dried blood and sweat. Lynx lowered himself to the floor. He caught Kathy’s eye and beckoned her over. She nodded, rose and walked toward him, tugging Samuel’s sleeve on the way. He recognized Emily’s firm, gentle touch on his broken arm as the others made their way over. He raised his eyebrows at her. “There you are. I was wondering if I needed to send for you. I need to talk to all the leaders.” “Mm, yes. And I need to have a look at this bandage. It’s soaked through.” Emily pinned him with a stern look. “How badly has this been hurting?” She set to work unwrapping the bloody bandage. “Not that bad,” he said. She stopped long enough to peer at him in obvious skepticism. He hunched his shoulders. “It’s been hurting a little bit. But it’s honestly not as bad as most knife wounds I’ve had. I’ve been able to ignore it and do what I need to do. Although just now when I got back I started feeling kind of weak and dizzy. But I didn’t before.” “Maybe whatever the gun thing put in there makes it not hurt much.” Jessamine wrinkled her nose when everyone turned to stare at her. “It’s just a thought. I mean, if it doesn’t hurt, then you ignore it, right? And maybe it does worse damage in the end. Maybe it’s more a weapon you use to kill somebody later rather than right away.” It was an intriguing idea. Certainly one Lynx wouldn’t put past the people of the old world. If he’d learned nothing else from the books Rabbit used to scavenge from Char, he’d learned the ancients were endlessly creative in their methods of hurting and killing one another. He supposed they could have developed such a weapon, especially in the final years before the Change. The whole world was at war then, if what Rabbit had read could be believed. Emily felt around the bare wound, just as she had before. “Hm. I don’t like how this feels, or how it looks. Whatever’s in there seems to be causing a lot more damage than it ought to be.”

Lynx looked and blinked in surprise. An area about the length of a man’s thumb all around the perimeter of the small hole had become purplish-red and badly swollen. Blood oozed from the entry wound in a steady stream, as if something had caused it to stop clotting. It didn’t hurt much, though. In fact, he barely felt Emily’s touch. The entire outer half of his upper arm felt numb. “Well. Whatever’s going on with my arm, there’s not much I can do about it right now. Emily’s doing everything possible, and that’s it.” Lynx took the piece of curved scrap metal Emily gave him and held it under his arm while she poured yarrow-infused water into the wound. He didn’t even feel it. “Here’s what I need to talk to you all about. My Brothers and me went to the outskirts of the city. The Brass have broken through Carwin’s wall.” He raised his voice enough to talk over the questions everyone had already begun to ask. “Not too badly. But their fireball weapon did blow a hole in the base big enough for a couple of men to crawl through. Some of them are inside. We think most are still outside, though. Our people are still holding them off. Wolf, Horse, Squirrel and Rabbit are launching a stealth campaign to kill as many Brass as they can in their encampment, then in the middle of their assault on the walls. Once they’re spotted, they’ll fight in the open until…” His throat closed up. He cleared it. “Until it’s over. One way or another.” Silence. Emily patted his wound dry and bandaged it again before helping him back into the sling. She took his hand in both of hers and gazed into his eyes, her expression solemn. “I’m sorry you have to be separated from your Pack right now. This must be difficult for you.” Lynx nodded, grateful for Emily’s comfort. “Yes. Thank you.” He squeezed her hand. “Now. Maryanne, you and me talked before about you and your people following Jessamine across the river, to the grasslands. I don’t know for sure if that’s going to be necessary, but I think you should all be prepared in case it is.” Maryanne’s brows drew down into a stubborn frown. “No.” Surprised, Lynx shook his head. “But we agreed. If something happens—”

“We’re tired of being a burden. Of just waiting for something to happen.” Samuel clenched his hands together in his lap, his fingers white-knuckled with the strength of his grip. He shared a knowing look with Maryanne. “We talked while you were gone. All of us. We want to fight.” Of all the things Lynx thought he might hear, that wasn’t one of them. He stared, shocked. “Fight? You want to fight the Brass?” They all nodded. Kathy lifted her chin in a way Lynx knew meant she was angry. “What, you think we can’t fight?” He didn’t, but looking into their determined faces, he thought better of saying it quite so baldly. “I think the Brass are the deadliest enemy I’ve personally ever come up against. I think it takes more than just the will to do it, and the heart for the battle. All of you have those things. I can see that. But fighting the Brass takes skill as well. Skill you get from years of training, in the Pack and in battle.” He faced the affronted expressions around him with a plea. “If you fight them, a lot of you will die. Please don’t do this.” Maryanne stared straight into his eyes. “Will you try to stop us?” He wanted to. But he hadn’t that right, and he knew it. “No.” “Then we’re fighting. Those goddamn bastards took everything from us and left us for dead. They’re gonna pay for that.” Rising to her feet, she pulled Michael’s gun thing from the back of her pants and held it in the air. “Come on, people! It’s payback time for the Brass.” The crowd cheered. Maryanne silenced them with a few waves of her hands. “All right. Here’s the rules. No kids. I mean it. Kids, anyone injured or sick stays here. There’s volunteers to stay here and look after the young’uns and anyone who’s hurt. Jessamine’s one of ’em. She can get everyone across the river if worst comes to worst. Em—” “I’m coming with you.” Emily clutched her bag to her chest and darted a defiant look around the room. “Heather will be here to help care for the sick and injured. No one here is that badly off. I’ll be needed on the battlefield to treat injuries there.”

“Good point. Okay then, Em, you’re in.” Maryanne eyed Lynx with resignation. “Don’t suppose I can talk you into staying here.” “No. If you’re not going to listen to me, then I’m going with you.” Lynx scrambled to his feet and stood, trying not to sway like a willow tree in a breeze. “Maybe I can at least keep you from getting yourselves massacred once you get there.” Maryanne snorted. “Maybe you can, at that.”

Or maybe not. Lynx stopped the fifth hotheaded groundhog in as many minutes from charging into the fray. “Stay put,” he whispered, giving the young woman a quelling glare. “You can’t just go rushing off without a plan.” Beside him, Maryanne laid a hand on his arm. “Hon, I know you mean well, but these folks need a plan soon, or they’re goin’ on out there anyhow, and nothin’ either of us says is stoppin’ ’em.” She was right, which only made the whole situation more frustrating. Lynx leaned against an apple tree and peered out at the battle still raging at the foot of the city walls. Either the breach in the wall had opened again or some of his Brothers had exited through the gate, because several of them huddled in a group, back to back to back, fighting off a clutch of Brass who outnumbered them threefold. It wasn’t impossible odds for Pack, but the Brass had reinforcements—Lynx had counted at least seventy of them earlier, not including however many they had inside the walls and the camp—and the three Brothers were cut off from the rest of their Pack. As he watched, a Brass knife felled Catfish. He crumpled to the ground. Spider and Falcon both hit the offending Brass at the same time, and he fell with his head half-severed from his neck. Lynx clenched his hand hard around his knife handle. “May you walk with the Great Mother, Catfish.”

He wanted to be out there so much it hurt. Wanted to plunge his weapon into a Brass throat, or chest, or belly. To feel the resistance, the fight, then the give as the tissues parted and the blade slid home. To feel the warm blood flow over his fingers and know the person who’d murdered one of his Brothers—or maybe scores of innocent women and children from Queen City or even Carwin—had died by his hand. Somewhere to Lynx’s left, a cry went up. “There goes the traitor! Get him!” Startled, Lynx scanned the field. He spotted Michael running along in a crouch toward the east, his hands still tied behind his back. Three groundhogs ran after him without even bothering to keep down. As Lynx watched, two more took off after them. Not surprisingly, the Brass took notice. Two broke from the main group and trotted toward Michael and his would-be captors. It was like opening the goat-pen gate when all the animals wanted out at once. The trickle became a flood, and the groundhogs stampeded across the field toward the Brass, metal bars and rocks and ancient glass shards held high, bellowing as they went. Lynx swore under his breath. None of them realized Michael had followed them. It hadn’t even occurred to Lynx that he might try. He’d been docile as a sheep ever since he’d first attacked Maryanne in the tunnel, not even bothering to ask for food or water. Emily had taken it upon herself to feed him and make him empty his bladder every few hours so he wouldn’t soil himself. To see him show enough initiative to follow the group, then make a run for it, was frankly astounding. “He must have been pretending his mental disturbance.” Emily planted her hands on her hips and pursed her lips in a rare display of irritation. “Well. I suppose I’ll start getting my supplies in order. I’m certain to need them soon.” Moved by a surge of affection, Lynx pulled Emily into a one-armed hug. “Thank you.”

She didn’t ask questions, for which Lynx was profoundly grateful, since he would’ve had a hard time explaining exactly what he was thanking her for. Everything sounded far too vague for his liking. She patted his back and pulled away, smiling. “Be careful out there.” “Always.” Drawing his knife, Lynx crept to the edge of the orchard, then made a dash for the nearest bit of cover. He’d already decided the best he could do was help keep his new friends from getting killed, as much as possible. Stealth attacks from the grass. If someone seemed to be doing well, he’d leave them be and move on. After all, there was only one of him and he couldn’t save everyone. He’d pulled about ten of the Brass down into the weeds and killed them before the others caught on to his scheme. The next one he tried it on turned on him and caught him a glancing blow across the chest before the groundhog—a diminutive but fierce woman named Rebecca—crushed the side of the Brass’s skull with her sturdy metal pipe. “Thanks.” Lynx glanced down at the cut. It bled a fair amount but wasn’t deep. The bleeding should stop soon. He looked up at Rebecca, her fair head a dark silhouette against the bright sky. “You okay?” She nodded. “That sun of yours hurts my eyes. But I don’t care. Feels good to kill them.” Something unpleasant squirmed in Lynx’s stomach. He knew exactly what she meant. Knew the particular dark joy that came from killing people like the Brass. But he couldn’t pretend it was a good thing, really, and he didn’t like seeing an innocent get a taste for it. She crouched down beside him. “Are you all right?” He looked into the questioning blue eyes. “Yes. Why don’t you go rest in the shade for a bit? You’re getting sunburned.” “Sunburned?”

“Yeah. The sun can actually burn your skin. Not like the sunlamps in Queen City.” Her free hand flew up to her blood-speckled cheek. The bridge of her nose had indeed gone pink in the short time she’d been out here. “Oh. Okay.” She beamed, looking for all the world as if she hadn’t killed who knew how many people today. “All right. Yeah. I’ll do that. Thanks.” She started to stand. He stopped her with a hand around her wrist. “Stay down, below the tops of the grass. Don’t let them see you.” Nodding, she jogged off, bent over at the waist. Lynx sat there for a moment, trying to tell himself he was planning what to do next. Truthfully, he felt dizzy and sick, and a deep, searing pain had begun to throb beneath the numbness in his arm. If he looked at the bandage, he knew he would see it soaked through again. He could smell the fresh blood. Could feel the stickiness of it. All he wanted to do was lie down in the tall grass and sleep. That desire, utterly at odds with his Pack training and his own nature, terrified him. Which was good. Fear tore through the miasma of drowsiness and forced him to his feet, gritting his teeth against his spinning head and rolling stomach and the pain trying to burst through his skin. “Move, Lynx,” he ordered himself. His voice sounded weak and slurred. Furious, he staggered toward the battle going on a few dozen paces away. The Brass seemed fewer than before. That was good. They also seemed fuzzy around the edges, which might not be so good. “Brass! You Mother-damned fuckers! Get out of my fucking city!” Several Brass heads swiveled his way. Laughter floated toward him on the hot breeze. One burly man in a vest of human skin trotted toward him, grinning ear to ear. “Well, hello there, little brother.” He circled Lynx, amusement in every line of his face. “Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to show up drunk to a war, sweetheart?” He stopped in front of Lynx, one hand to his chin in a pretense of

deep thought. “Oh, that’s right. You people don’t have daddies. You’re raised in packs, like dogs.” Lynx almost laughed. Insults? This man knew nothing about the Pack if he thought taunts would throw a Brother off the fight. A single lunge forward along with a quick upward thrust was all it took to fell the big man. He lay on the ground gurgling his last, the big blood vessel running from his heart through his abdomen severed. Lynx stepped around him, intent on the group fighting his Brothers. Spider, Falcon, Rabbit, Horse, Wolf. So their stealth campaign was over. Lynx didn’t think they minded much. Most Pack preferred a straight fight. Striking from behind, Lynx yanked one man’s head back and slit his throat, then opened his companion’s belly with a couple of swift cuts when he turned toward Lynx. After that, the blows came one right after another, relentless. Lynx fought hard to turn the ones aimed at him and get in his own where he could, but soon enough it was all he could do to keep his feet. Faces, weapons, bloodied hands and patches of sky all blurred together and he couldn’t distinguish one from another. Wait. Sky? He blinked. Moved his hand. His fingers raked through grass and soil, and he realized he lay flat on his back on the ground. He turned his head. The world spun. When it stilled again, he saw his knife lying next to him. He grabbed it. The moment his fingers curled around the familiar handle, he felt steadier. Which didn’t really help when three Brass faces loomed over him. These men didn’t stop to tease. One reached down, grabbed Lynx by the sling wrapped around his arm and ribs and lifted him right off the ground. Agony ripped through his arm. He bit back on the cry that wanted to come out and met the man’s gaze with calm silence.

At least the pain sharpened his mind and made him more alert. The man grinned, showing a gap in his top row of teeth. “Once we take over that fancy city of yours, I’m gonna gut you and make sausages out of you.” A voice boomed from behind the man. “Think again, asshole.”

Chapter Fifteen The man’s eyes widened. Narrowed. He dropped Lynx, drew his knife and was halfway around when a piece of twisted metal hit him in the face. He fell with a grunt, blood gushing from his broken nose. Samuel swung at the second man before he could come at him with his knife. The deadly bit of scrap caught the Brass in the windpipe. Beside him, the third man went down with a long, wickedly sharp sliver of glass embedded in the side of his throat by Lisa. Kathy went behind the two and bashed each of the Brass in the head with a large, pointed rock. Kathy bent over Lynx and laid a cool hand on his forehead. She moved her hand to his cheek, frowning. “Christ, he’s hot. Feel.” Lisa touched his forehead. Her palm felt like ice. “Shit.” She bent over him, her face full of worry. “Lynx? Are you okay?” “Yeah.” He nodded and wished he hadn’t. Everything moved in a way that made him want to throw up. “They killed Catfish.” He stared at the dead man’s flattened face while his friends mumbled together. Samuel did that. And Kathy. They’d killed that man. “You saved me. Thank you.” Samuel’s face hovered close over his, smiling. “Hey, we owed you.” Strong arms lifted him, swinging his torso around and making him very glad he’d had nothing but water that day. He groaned. “What… What’re you doing?” “Taking you back to the orchard, so Em can look you over,” Samuel rumbled against Lynx’s ear. The grass crackled around them as Samuel ran for the shelter of the orchard with Lynx in his arms. “I know you want to fight. But you’re very sick. You can’t fight right now.” Part of Lynx knew Samuel told the truth. But Mother, he wanted to keep fighting. He struggled. Samuel held him easily, and he let out a frustrated noise. “Rabbit? Where’s Rabbit?”

“Fighting. He’s fine. He’s not hurt.” Samuel panted, the effort of carrying Lynx showing now. “He wouldn’t want you to get yourself killed. Please.” Weak, sick and feeling more helpless than he ever had, Lynx curled closer to Samuel and pretended the drops rolling down his cheeks were merely sweat.

Lynx lost consciousness somewhere between the battlefield and the orchard. He woke to the sound of his own muffled screams and an agony like nothing he’d ever felt before. Emily hunched over his injured shoulder, her expression focused, bent to a task he couldn’t determine. Samuel’s face hung upside down above his, pale and anguished. The pain dug into his shoulder like red-hot claws. He screamed again. His tongue pushed against something scratchy, dry. Cloth. It wouldn’t move. Tied in place. He tried to move his arm, his chest. Something held him pinned to the earth beneath him, hard weights or bands of metal around his upper arm below his injury and boring into his other shoulder. He screamed again from sheer frustration. If he hadn’t been so weak, he could break free, stop this…whatever it was. Why were they doing this? Emily and Samuel. Why were they hurting him? He didn’t understand. “I’ve almost got it.” Emily’s voice sounded far away, wavering and faint. Her gaze met Lynx’s for a second. “Keep him as still as you can. I know it’s difficult. I’m sorry.” “Trying.” Samuel stared down at Lynx. “It’s okay, Lynx. It’s okay. It’ll be over soon. Just look at me. Look in my eyes and try to be still, okay?” Samuel. Yes. Samuel was his friend. Samuel carried him out of the battlefield. Samuel saved him when the Brass were about to kill him. Lynx stared up into Samuel’s eyes. Leaves fluttered behind Samuel’s head. He thought he spotted young apples too. Were they in the orchard?

The pain came again, worse than before, a fiery blade scraping the lining from his bone. Lynx tried to hold still like Samuel said, to hold Samuel’s gaze, but he couldn’t. His eyes shut, his spine bowed and another ragged scream ripped from his throat. “There! I have it.” The worst of the pain stopped. The wound stung for a moment, and he felt liquid trickling down his side. “That’s it, Lynx. I’m so sorry I had to hurt you. I’m so sorry.” Emily’s voice was calm. Soothing. Lynx relaxed, in spite of the renewed ache when something pushed hard against the wound. The pressure let up on his arm and his uninjured shoulder. Someone—Samuel, it must be Samuel—untied the cloth from his mouth. He coughed. Cleared his throat. Hauled his eyes open again and tried to sit up. Two pairs of hands pushed him back down again. Voices told him to lie still, to rest, that he mustn’t try to move yet. Everything swirled together into a chaos of noise and color, pain and heat and sickness. Lynx felt himself floating. His vision tunneled. As his consciousness faded away, he thought he heard Rabbit’s voice, caught Rabbit’s scent close to him. Soft lips pressed to his, and he let himself fall into the darkness.

Movement. Jostling. Pain, oh, Mother, pain worse than any knife wound. He moaned, trying to squirm away from it. A warm, familiar, calloused hand took his. “It’s all right, Lynx. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll be home.” Rabbit. Rabbit’s voice, Rabbit’s touch, Rabbit’s kiss pressed to his forehead. Lynx tried to open his eyes. The lids refused to move. His lips shaped Rabbit’s name. Rabbit’s voice answered, telling him everything would be all right, and Lynx let the world slide away once more.

“What on the Mother’s Earth happened?” “It was an old-world weapon. A gun, Brother Rabbit called it.” “Huh.” Fingers pressed gently around his wound. “Well, it messed up his shoulder something terrible.” “The gun sent a projectile into his shoulder at high speed. I had to dig it out when he became acutely ill during the battle.” A shuffling sound. Murmurs. “You see the disintegration around the shell. He was feverish and delirious when Samuel brought him to me from the battlefield, but he wasn’t that way immediately after he was wounded. It was a gradual process. I believe this thing, whatever it is, released some sort of poison into his system when it began to dissolve.” Emily and Healer Pansy continued talking, though their voices dropped to a low murmur. Lynx couldn’t decipher what they said, and wasn’t sure he wanted to. His body felt battered from head to toe, and he couldn’t seem to stay awake long enough to catch more than a few snatches of conversation here and there. He wished his mind would focus. There was something important he needed to know. Something to do with the battle Emily mentioned. But the memory eluded him, no matter how hard he tried to catch it. He shifted in bed—bed? Yes. Definitely a bed—and clutched at the sheet as if the answer were hidden there. The mattress dipped. Rabbit’s familiar hand cupped his cheek. “Lynx? Are you awake?” Rabbit sounded exhausted, half hopeful and half afraid. Longing to see his face, Lynx cracked his eyes open. Rabbit was there, his face lined with worry and the skin under his eyes bruised from lack of sleep. He smiled. “There’s my Wildcat.” “Rabbit.” Lynx’s voice slurred in spite of his best effort to speak clearly. “What. The battle?” He couldn’t seem to say exactly what he meant, but as usual Rabbit understood. “We won, thanks to our friends from Queen City.” Leaning down, he kissed Lynx’s

forehead. “I’ll tell you the whole story later. Right now, Healer Pansy and Emily both say you need to sleep as much as you can.” Sleep. He must’ve slept long hours already, yet his eyelids drooped as if he’d been awake for days. He kept them open through sheer willpower so he could ask Rabbit to… “Kiss.” He hooked his hand around the back of Rabbit’s neck. “Kiss me.” The warmth Lynx knew and loved shown through the stress and fatigue in Rabbit’s eyes. Cupping Lynx’s face between his palms, he laid a tender kiss on Lynx’s mouth. Lynx drifted off to the feel of Rabbit stroking his cheek and telling him to sleep. He wondered if Rabbit would stay.

When Lynx woke again, he knew right away that he’d been out for a long time. He felt wide awake and rested for the first time since the battle. The battle. Which they’d won. Carwin was safe. His struggle to sit up told him two things—his injured shoulder didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it had before, and he was still weak as a brand-new calf. He laid down again, panting and frustrated, his head spinning. “Great Mother. Damn gun thing.” “Lynx?” He turned his head toward the door in time to see Rabbit striding toward the bed. Lynx mirrored the wide smile on Rabbit’s face. “Hi. How long have I been out?” “Two days. Great Mother, it’s good to see you looking like yourself again. Here, let me help you.” Sliding his arms around Lynx’s torso, Rabbit lifted him as carefully as a mother picking up her child, set his pillow against the wall behind him and helped him prop his back on it. “How’s that?”

“Better, thanks. I’ve been trying to sit up, but I wasn’t having any luck by myself.” “Yeah, I figured that’s the first thing you’d do. Pansy’s at the market getting more herbs. She asked if I’d come watch you. Guess it’s a good thing. I’m just glad you didn’t try to go for a walk by yourself. I’d’ve been picking you up off the floor.” Rabbit’s voice teased, but the look in his eyes was deadly serious. Lynx took his hand and wove their fingers together. “What did that gun do to me, exactly? I was fine—” “You had an open wound and a broken arm. It would’ve caught up to you eventually anyway.” “Yeah, but you know as well as I do that it shouldn’t’ve been like that. I expected pain. I expected to not be able to perform quite up to normal. But the wound was only, what, maybe a day old, and it was already looking infected, and it acted as if the infection was already spreading.” Lynx rolled the injured shoulder. It ached, but the searing, bone-deep pain from before had faded. “I remember waking up once before, and Emily said she thought the thing lodged in the wound had poisoned me somehow. I remember…” He frowned, thinking hard. “I think I remember her cutting it out. She tied a cloth in my mouth so the Brass wouldn’t hear me screaming. Samuel held me down, I think.” “That’s right. I found you just as they finished up.” For a long moment, Rabbit sat in silence, rubbing his thumb over Lynx’s and staring at nothing. “I don’t guess we’ll ever know for sure. But, yeah, Em’s best guess is that the…whatever it is, had some sort of poison in it that got into your system when it started dissolving. She and Pansy both say the poison seems to be gone now, though. Thank the Mother.” He looked up and met Lynx’s gaze. “Michael was badly hurt in the battle. No one knows for sure if it was the Brass or the groundhogs, but Em and Pansy don’t expect him to live much longer.” “Oh.” Lynx turned to peer around the room. Only a few other beds were occupied. Michael lay in the one at the far end, his head wrapped in white cloth. Now that Lynx paid attention to it, Michael’s breathing sounded rough and labored. “Maybe it’s wrong, but I can’t say I’m sorry.”

“Neither am I. Turns out he’s the one who found the fireball weapons and told the Brass about them.” Rabbit turned Lynx’s hand over and traced the lines on his palm with a single fingertip. “It turns out the Brass only had a little over one hundred men. Not as many as we’d thought. A few got away. Most were killed in the battle. Our friends the groundhogs are deadly with scrap metal and rocks.” Lynx laughed, and Rabbit grinned. “We captured eleven of them. They’re going before the council as soon as you’re on your feet again.” “Good.” Pulling his hand loose from Rabbit’s, Lynx reached up to touch his Brother’s cheek. “How many did we lose?” Rabbit’s expression turned solemn. “It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. But Catfish was killed, and seventeen groundhogs died in the battle. More than thirty were injured. Most of the injuries weren’t serious, but still. A lot of our people were hurt.” Great Mother. So many dead or hurt. And Catfish, his sly smile, quick humor and graceful body gone forever. Lynx’s stomach rolled over. “How are the groundhogs now? What’s going to happen to them?” He could no longer think of the slaves as a different class, after all the group had been through. “There hasn’t been any decision yet. We offered to let them stay in the Pack House, but there really isn’t room there. So they’re actually just camping on the training grounds. The trainees helped us put together temporary shelters for them.” The corners of Rabbit’s mouth lifted. “In fact, they’ve gotten to be very popular with everyone in the tribe.” “They should be. They saved our lives.” Lynx gazed over Rabbit’s shoulder and out the window across the room. The Memory Tree swayed in the breeze, a distant shape across the city in the Pack compound. “We owe them so much, Rabbit. I hope Mother Rose and the council will keep that in mind.” “They will.” The confidence in Rabbit’s voice echoed Lynx’s own. He hoped it was warranted.

Seven days later, the surviving Brass were brought before the council. The testimony of Lynx, Rabbit, Maryanne, Emily and countless groundhogs—including a few rape survivors—led to a swift and decisive death sentence for all eleven of the men. None of them even blinked. One, who Lynx recognized as one of his original captors, spit in Mother Rose’s face. He got Wolf’s fist in the jaw for his trouble. Unruffled, Mother Rose wiped the spittle from her cheek with her sleeve. “Brothers, please take the prisoners away. Sentence is to be carried out immediately. I’ll be there in a few moments.” She aimed a stern look at the men tied together at the neck by hemp ropes. “May the Great Mother take mercy on you, gentlemen.” Wolf, Owl and Falcon led the eleven men out of the room. Lynx watched them go and felt nothing but relief that these particular men would never murder another innocent person. Mother Rose smiled at Maryanne, who sat beside Rabbit at the long table in the council chambers. “Maryanne, I would like to express our sincere thanks to you and all of your people from Queen City. I daresay Carwin might not have survived if you hadn’t helped Brothers Lynx and Rabbit get out of your city when they did, and if all of you hadn’t chosen to fight the Brass as they attacked Carwin.” Maryanne shrugged. Her cheeks blushed bright pink. “Yeah, well. Just returnin’ the favor. Your Pack boys saved our butts. We would’ve died down there. ’Sides, we couldn’t let those damned Brass bastards get away with burning down Queen City and trying to kill all of us.” Clasping her hands in front of her, Mother Rose leaned forward on her elbows. “As I’m sure you’re aware, our tribe is not in the habit of taking in people from the outside. Especially in such large numbers. But the council and I have discussed this extensively over the last few days, and given the tremendous part you and your people have played in saving our city, we’ve elected to offer all of you a new home here in Carwin, if you want it.”

Maryanne gaped. “Oh. Uh.” She glanced at Emily, who sat on her other side. Emily smiled and nodded. Maryanne looked back to Mother Rose, a stunned expression on her face. “Well. Um. That’s very kind of you, uh. Mother. I’m sure we’d all be very grateful to take you up on that, thank you.” She studied her hands where they rested on the table. “Maybe we can find our own place out there in the world, one of these days.” “One day, perhaps, if you wish. But please know, there will be no obligation for you to do so. From this day forward, you are all a part of the Carwin Tribe, for as long as you desire it.” Smiling, Mother Rose stood. Everyone else in the room rose along with her. “This council meeting is now adjourned. Maryanne, the prisoners will be executed outside the city gate shortly if any of your people would like to bear witness. May the Great Mother hold you near, my friends.” Mother Rose turned and left the council chambers, followed by the council. The councilors had remained uncharacteristically silent during the testimony. Lynx couldn’t blame them. If he hadn’t witnessed the Brass’s crimes firsthand, he’d have been shocked too. Once the last councilor left the room, the Pack and the groundhogs who’d come to speak started filing out. Rabbit slipped an arm around Lynx’s waist. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” Lynx smiled at his Brother. “I wish you’d stop worrying.” “I’m not worried. Just making sure you look after yourself.” Pulling Lynx closer, Rabbit planted a kiss on the side of his head. “He’s got a point.” Maryanne gave him a pointed look. “You ask me, you been up and around too much too soon.” “Emily and Pansy both said it was all right.” Lynx reached the handle on the outside door before Rabbit could do it and pushed the door open with his foot. “Indeed we did. Just keep the sling on and don’t use that arm. And do try not to do anything too strenuous. Pansy and I haven’t been able to figure out what sort of poison was in your system, and neither of us want to see you have a relapse.”

Something in her tone drew Lynx’s ear. He swiveled enough to see the frown on her face. “What’s the matter, Em?” “It’s nothing.” Emily smiled. “How does your arm feel?” “Fine. A little achy, but it’s not really bothering me much.” He studied her with concern. Her smile seemed forced, which wasn’t like her. “Hey, Em—” “Lynx, really, don’t worry. I’m just still trying to come to terms with everything, that’s all.” She kissed his cheek. “I promised Pansy I’d help her in the healing house. Maryanne, would you like me to help you talk with everyone else later on about Mother Rose’s offer?” Maryanne shook her head. “Naw, I’ll handle it. You take your time and come on back when you’re ready.” “All right. Thank you.” She veered down the path to the healer’s. “Lynx, be sure to come let us know if you need anything. I’ll see you later.” She hurried off. Lynx looked at Maryanne. “Is she okay?” “Yeah. It’s just this whole thing with the execution. I mean, she didn’t say anything, but I can tell. The minute your Mother there said those Brass were gonna be killed, she got that look on her face.” Maryanne sighed. “Em’s a smart woman, and a great healer, and damned if you could find a better friend anyplace, but she don’t like to see anybody die. Not even the Brass. If it’s on purpose, that just makes it worse to her.” “Oh.” Rabbit’s brows drew together. He looked as confused and distressed as Lynx felt. None of them wanted people to die for the sake of it, but surely Em could see the justice in Mother Rose’s sentence? “Oh, now boys, don’t worry.” Maryanne patted Rabbit’s arm. “None of us’ll make any trouble here, least of all Emily. Believe me, we’re both happy to have a place to live. The rest of our folks’ll feel the same. They’ve all been talking ’bout what a great place Carwin is.”

“I hope so. We want everyone to be happy here.” Rabbit mapped the curve of Lynx’s hipbone with his thumb. “So. I guess Lynx and I are going to witness the executions. You don’t have to come if you’d rather not, but you’re welcome if you want to. Any of you are. It’s public.” “Yeah.” Maryanne ran a hand through her hair, making it stick up in all directions. “I think I’ll come along, sure.” The three of them followed the path toward the gate together, part of the growing crowd heeding the calls of the Pack trainees announcing the executions throughout the city’s streets. Lynx tilted his head to the morning sun and breathed in the scents of flowers, goats and greenery. He’d never loved the sounds of his city—the laughter, the conversation, the rustle of leaves and the music of the narrow creek—more than he did right now. It was good to be home.

A light shower fell in the midafternoon, enough to ease the late-summer heat and wash away the lingering smell of the post-execution pyre with the scent of rain. Afterward, the clouds floated away on a cooling breeze, making way for a glorious sunset. The Queen City refugees had developed a fascination with the cycles of the sun and moon, now that they’d had a few days to get used to the shock of it, and they’d taken to gathering in the open areas of the Pack compound every evening to watch the setting sun paint the sky in a riot of colors. Tonight, they’d joined the rest of the Carwin Tribe in the town square for a celebration. Lynx found he loved seeing his new friends laughing, singing, dancing and drinking Carwin’s own scuppernong wine along with the people he’d known his whole life. Maryanne and most of the other groundhogs were still in the square—along with a majority of the Carwin natives—when Lynx, Rabbit and a handful of their Brothers returned to the Pack House. Lynx stripped off his clothes and stood in front of the open window with his eyes shut. “That breeze is wonderful.” “Mmm. It is.” He heard the sound of buckskins and a knife belt hitting the floor. Bare feet padded up behind him. Rabbit pressed his naked body to Lynx’s back

and wound both arms around his waist. “Come to bed, Lynx.” Rabbit kissed Lynx’s neck. Slid a hand between his legs to cup his balls. “I want you.” Rabbit ran his fingertips up the shaft of Lynx’s swelling cock and stroked his thumb over the head, drawing a low moan from Lynx’s throat. Great Mother, when Rabbit touched him like that, nothing else seemed to matter. Turning his head, Lynx nuzzled Rabbit’s throat. “Only if you promise not to treat me like I’m going to break.” Across the room, Kitten laughed. “Right. As if there’s the slightest chance you’re going to say no to Rabbit fucking you.” Rabbit’s chuckle vibrated against Lynx’s back. “Shouldn’t that smart little mouth of yours be full by now?” “Yes, it definitely should.” Amused by the disgruntled growl in Fox’s voice, Lynx swung himself and Rabbit both around just in time to see Fox snatch his kneeling Brother by the hair and cut off his laughter with a mouthful of hard cock. Kitten hummed, grabbed Fox’s bare ass in both hands and went to work, gazing up at Fox with his one good eye. Behind Lynx, Rabbit’s breath hitched. Lynx reached his good arm back to wind around Rabbit’s neck. “You like to watch the two of them, don’t you?” “I do. They’re beautiful.” Rabbit nipped Lynx’s earlobe. Spread a palm over his heart, the same way he did in the night when his sleep grew restless. His voice dropped to a whisper. “But you’re more beautiful to me. You’ll always be special. My Wildcat.” The words set Lynx’s blood on fire every bit as much as Rabbit’s touch. Maybe more. Turning in Rabbit’s arms, Lynx kissed his nose, his lips, the scar on his chin. “You’re special to me too. Always have been, always will be.” He pulled away, smiling, Rabbit’s hand in his. “Come on. And I’m serious about not treating me like I’m breakable. I’m fine now.”

“Didn’t know broken bones healed that fast.” Wolf’s voice was muffled by Horse’s neck, but Lynx heard him just fine. He reached over Squirrel’s thigh to pinch Wolf’s hip. “Shut up. You’re not helping.” Squirrel stopped leaving bite marks on Wolf’s chest long enough to flash a grin at Lynx and Rabbit. “Coming to bed?” “Yes. And yes, Lynx, I promise not to treat you like a delicate thing tonight.” As if to prove his point, Rabbit gave Lynx’s ass a resounding smack. “Lie down.” Lynx crawled onto the bed, rolled onto his back and spread his legs. Next to him, Fox leaned sideways to kiss Rabbit before lifting Kitten and laying him on the pallet. Rabbit lowered himself between Lynx’s thighs with a smile on his face, and a great joy swelled in Lynx’s chest. Touch by touch, kiss by kiss, Rabbit was coming back to his Pack. Only learning Rabbit still lived had ever made Lynx happier. Rabbit rolled his hips. His hardness pressed into Lynx’s, drawing a moan from Lynx’s throat. Lifting his legs, Lynx wrapped them around Rabbit’s waist. “Do that again.” He did, bending to claim a kiss at the same time. Lynx ran his unrestrained hand up and down Rabbit’s back while they kissed. Not for the first time in the past few days, he silently cursed the sling preventing him from getting both hands on his Rabbit’s body. After several long, wonderful minutes spent doing nothing but kissing and frotting against one another, Rabbit drew back and gazed down at Lynx. His lips curled into the half-playful, half-seductive smile he liked to use in bed to drive Lynx crazy with lust. “Spread your legs.” “How will you keep kissing me if you’re sucking my cock?” Lynx yanked Rabbit down by the hair for another quick, hard kiss, then unlocked his ankles from behind Rabbit’s back and let his legs fall open. Rabbit’s eyebrows rose. “Who says I’m sucking your cock?”

“Me. The man who’s known you your whole life and shared a bed with you ever since trainee camp.” Unwinding his fingers from Rabbit’s hair, Lynx planted his hand on Rabbit’s shoulder and shoved him in the right direction. “Go on.” Rabbit laughed, but the tender light in his eyes said that lifelong connection meant as much to him as it did to Lynx. Wriggling down the bed, Rabbit settled between Lynx’s legs with a contented hum. He ran his fingertips down the length of Lynx’s inner thighs. Back up again. Dug his thumbs into the place where the big tendon joined the bone at the juncture of leg and groin. Lynx squeaked and tried to squirm away, but Rabbit clamped his hands onto Lynx’s thighs and held him down. “Bastard,” Lynx gasped through his laughter. “That fucking tickles!” “I know.” Another dig. Rabbit grinned when Lynx tried—unsuccessfully—to pry his hands away. “What, do you want me to do something else instead? Is that what you’re trying to say?” “He wants you to—” Fox’s hand over his mouth cut off Kitten’s words. Fox shook his head. “Hands and knees, Little Brother. I’ll make you stop talking.” Kitten’s pale cheeks flushed pink. His eyelids fluttered shut. Opened again. He batted Fox’s hand away and scrambled into position, his pert rear toward Fox and his kiss-swollen mouth temptingly close to Lynx’s groin. It gave Lynx ideas. Before Rabbit vanished, he would’ve just said it. Now? He wasn’t sure how Rabbit would react. Things were good right now. He didn’t want to break the spell. Resting his cheek on Lynx’s thigh, Rabbit watched with obvious interest as Fox spread Kitten open and worked him with tongue and fingers. Even as Rabbit took Lynx’s balls one by one into his mouth, sucked them and rolled them with his tongue, his gaze remained fixed on Fox and Kitten. When he licked his way up

Lynx’s cock, slid his lips over the head and swallowed him to the root, Rabbit’s eyes turned sideways and up to study Kitten’s face so close to his. Lynx stared at Rabbit’s mouth on him, at Kitten and Rabbit watching one another almost as if sizing up an opponent. He glanced to his other side. Horse lay sandwiched between Wolf and Squirrel, the three of them oblivious to anything but each other as they moved together. Rabbit moaned, and the vibrations around his cock drew an answering moan from Lynx. He looked down. The sight of Kitten nuzzling open-mouthed kisses along Rabbit’s neck had Lynx thrusting into Rabbit’s throat. “Oh. Mother. Yes.” Smiling, Kitten bent and bit Lynx’s hip. Behind him, Fox straightened up and fetched the oil from the shelf behind the bed. Kitten cried out when Fox penetrated him. He dug his fingers into the bedding. “Harder, Fox. Fuck me hard.” “Help him suck Lynx’s cock first.” Fox winked at Lynx, one hand on Kitten’s back in his usual possessive touch. As soon as Rabbit let go of Lynx’s cock and lifted his head, Lynx knew it would be all right. The old fire from the days before his capture shone in Rabbit’s face—the light of the Pack bond. Rabbit had it back, and everything would be fine now. Relieved, Lynx touched Rabbit’s cheek. He had no idea what he wanted to say. Everything, and nothing in particular. Whatever it was, though, he knew Rabbit would understand. Rabbit flashed his mischievous smile. Hooking a hand around the back of Kitten’s head, Rabbit swooped in and kissed him. Kitten made a soft, helpless sound that Lynx understood well. Nothing unraveled his senses like Rabbit’s kiss. By the time they broke apart, Lynx felt as if a single touch might send him over the edge. He bit his lip and hung onto his control by an act of supreme will when two sleek tongues slid up his cock. Kitten’s warm wet mouth engulfed him while Rabbit dipped down to kiss his thighs and lap at his balls. They switched places after a little while, exchanging another deep, aggressive kiss first.

Lynx thought he’d never seen anything so arousing in his life. He let out an incoherent cry when Rabbit pushed two spit-slick fingers inside him. Between the two skilled mouths on his cock and the relentless pressure on that spot inside that made him see stars, Lynx’s control balanced on a knife blade. The need to come pulsed through him, stronger with each heartbeat, but he didn’t want it. Not yet. “No.” Lynx pushed at Kitten’s flushed cheek, wound his hand into Rabbit’s hair and tugged. “Too soon, too soon.” Rabbit got the message. He pulled back, lifted Kitten’s chin and kissed him. “Thank you.” Even through the need fogging his brain, Lynx knew what Rabbit’s thanks were for, even if Kitten was too far gone to realize it right now. Lynx touched Kitten’s cheek in his own silent thanks for the right touch at the right time to bring their Brother Rabbit fully back into the embrace of his family. Groaning, Fox pulled out of Kitten, grabbed him around the waist, dragged him closer and flipped him onto his back. “Legs up. You want it hard, you got it.” From the corner of his eye, Lynx saw Kitten drape his legs over Fox’s shoulders and haul Fox’s head down for a kiss while Fox plunged back inside him and set up a punishing rhythm. Paying attention to them no longer seemed important, though, when Rabbit reached for the oil and poured a good palmful, watching Lynx’s face the whole time. He never looked away, not when he coated his cock with the oil, not when he pushed Lynx’s leg up to his chest, not when he thrust into Lynx’s body. His gaze held Lynx’s the whole time, full of love and heat and a lifetime of shared history. Lynx would walk through fire for moments like this one. He locked his legs around Rabbit’s body and tilted his face up to meet Rabbit’s kiss. On the edges of his mind, Lynx heard the door open and close—more than once, he figured—heard voices and laughter and soft moans as more and more Brothers joined them in the Pack beds. The scent of skin and sex thickened in the

cool night air flowing through the window. He felt gentle fingers that weren’t Rabbit’s caress his face, his arms, his sides, his legs. It felt good. Familiar and comfortable. The sounds and smells of the Pack, the touch of his Brothers, Rabbit pounding into him and whispering my Lynx, my Wildcat, mine against his lips—this was life at its best. This was home. Rabbit shifted his hips so that his cock pierced deeper. Each thrust hit the special spot inside hard enough to blur Lynx’s vision. Hot, tingling pressure built between his legs, spreading a sweet warmth through his belly. He lifted his hips, rubbed his cock against Rabbit’s abdomen. Almost, almost… “Now,” he panted into Rabbit’s mouth. “Please.” As always, his Rabbit understood what he needed. One arm braced on the bed, Rabbit wormed his other hand between their bodies to grasp Lynx’s cock. He stroked Lynx with the strong, firm touch Lynx liked best. “My Wildcat.” He kissed Lynx’s lips. Nuzzled his cheek. “Love you.” The words tore Lynx’s release from him as surely as Rabbit’s hand on him or Rabbit’s cock in him. Lynx’s spine bowed with the force of it. He let out a keening cry, muffled by Rabbit’s mouth on his. Inside him, Rabbit’s cock swelled. Rabbit made a desperate noise. The kiss broke, lost to Rabbit’s rising climax. His lips shaped Lynx’s name as he came, his cock buried deep inside Lynx and his palm still curled around Lynx’s prick. They lay like that for a few moments, forehead to forehead, caressing one another and sharing an occasional lazy kiss while the glow of orgasm faded. Lynx wriggled enough to rub his seed-coated belly against Rabbit’s. The motion made Rabbit’s spent cock pop out of him, and Rabbit laughed. “Happy?” “Mm-hm. Very. You?” “Very.” Rabbit kissed Lynx once more, caught Lynx’s lower lip between his teeth and tugged. “Let me lie down with you.”

Lynx let his legs drop away from Rabbit’s back. Rabbit rolled off Lynx and squirmed to make a space for himself between Lynx and Kitten, who’d moved within easy touching distance along with Fox and dozed off. Kitten cuddled close to Rabbit, pressed his face between Rabbit’s shoulder blades and went back to sleep. Fox smiled, his long, lean body cradling Kitten’s smaller one. The sated expression on Rabbit’s face didn’t change when Kitten snuggled up to him. In fact, his smile widened, and Lynx felt as though he could float up to the ceiling if he hadn’t been held tight in Rabbit’s embrace. He looked around the room, at his Brothers sleeping, talking, loving each other. Finally, his Rabbit was back where he belonged, in the midst of it all. With him. Lynx laid his hand on Rabbit’s cheek. “Welcome home, Brother.”

Chapter Sixteen Lynx woke in the predawn darkness to Rabbit’s tongue tracing a wet path along the shell of his ear. Smiling, he shuffled himself onto his side to claim a kiss. “Good morning.” He kept his voice to a whisper so as not to wake Owl, who’d come in from his watch at the gate not long ago and was currently sprawled on his stomach between Lynx and Wolf, sound asleep. “It is, isn’t it?” Planting one more kiss on Lynx’s lips, Rabbit sat up, scooted to the end of the bed and rose to his feet. He held out a hand for Lynx. “Let’s go watch the sunrise.” Memories of early mornings in the big beech tree by the eastern wall flooded Lynx’s mind in a warm rush. Smiling, he took Rabbit’s hand.

A few minutes later, washed and dressed, the two of them walked hand in hand along the city’s quiet paths toward the tree they’d always thought of as their own. The sky began to pale as they strolled, a faint tinge of deep blue along the edges of the black. Here and there, a bird broke into song overhead. The cool, rainwashed breeze carried the scent of apples from the orchard north of the city. They met a few other early risers, both native tribespeople and Queen City survivors. The refugees appeared to be doing well, all things considered. “They’ll be all right.” Rabbit nodded and smiled as they passed a woman Lynx vaguely recognized from his time underground. She smiled back. The two children trailing after her watched Lynx and Rabbit with undisguised curiosity. “It’ll take some time, but they’ve made a good start, and our people have been very accepting.” He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah. They’ll be okay.” “They will.” Lynx bumped Rabbit’s shoulder with his. “Good time last night, huh?”

Rabbit raised his face to catch a shower of yesterday’s raindrops from the clematis vines draping one of Carwin’s ancient arches as they passed beneath it. “Yeah. It was.” He squeezed Lynx’s hand. “It’s good to be back.” Nothing else needed to be said. Lynx saw the strength of the renewed Pack bond in the way Rabbit stood a little straighter now, smiled a little wider, the way the faint lines of worry and unhappiness had smoothed from his face. Love could save a man. But only the bond could make a Pack Brother whole.

The coming dawn shed just enough light to see by when they reached the beech tree. Lynx frowned up at the rustling leaves. “You’re going to have to boost me up. I only have one arm.” “Shit.” Pulling Lynx close, Rabbit kissed his nose. “We don’t have to climb up. We can sit under it if you want.” Lynx stared at him in shock. “I’m not an invalid, I just have a broken arm. I can still climb.” He swooped in for a kiss on the mouth, hard and demanding, to remind Rabbit that Lynx was Pack, dammit. “Now come on. Boost me up.” Rabbit’s surprised look melted into a laugh. He knelt on the ground beside the tree’s trunk with one knee up. Lynx climbed onto the lowest branch by standing on Rabbit’s shoulders and swinging himself up by one leg. He waited until Rabbit jumped, caught the branch and hauled himself up, then they climbed the stepladder of limbs together. They stopped at their usual spot, a sturdy branch about halfway to the top where a natural gap in the foliage allowed them an unhindered view over the eastern wall. On a clear morning, a keen eye could catch a glimpse of low, rolling grasslands beyond the broken buildings and barren clearings of the Char ruins. When he and Lynx were very young, Rabbit used to make up stories about those far lands. Sometimes terrible stories of death and monsters, sometimes tales of unimaginable beauty and wonder. It never mattered to Lynx what sorts of stories

Rabbit invented. He was always content simply to sit by Rabbit’s side, legs swinging over the edge of the branch, and listen to his Brother’s voice. Now that they were grown, they could no longer perch side by side, but that was all right. Pack initiation had shown them both a whole new side to their lifelong friendship, and they’d moved on. Lynx never missed their boyhood adventures. How could he, with Rabbit’s chest rising and falling against his back while the beech lived and breathed all around them? They sat without speaking while the eastern sky shaded from deep blue to lavender to palest gold. A cacophony of birdsong rose from all directions to greet the day. Behind them, Lynx heard the first of the morning merchants call greetings to one another as they made their way to the town’s market. A goat bleated from someone’s pen. Farther off, a rooster crowed. Lynx had watched countless sunrises from this spot, but the sight still stole his breath. Over the rise and fall of the land, past the farthest horizon, the sun ascended like a ball of red and yellow flame, devouring the jagged black teeth of the ruins in a cleansing fire. It still amazed him that the world survived the daily sunrise. Every time he climbed the beech tree to watch, he sent a silent thank you to the Great Mother for this daily rebirth. He and Rabbit watched in reverent silence, as they always had, until the sun rose high enough over the horizon to become small and innocuous again. Lynx let out a long breath and clutched Rabbit’s arms closer around him. Rabbit rested his head against Lynx’s. “It’s going to be a beautiful day, Brother.” A beautiful day. A beautiful life. Maybe they’d even have that house here beside the beech tree one day. Smiling, Lynx turned his head to nuzzle Rabbit’s cheek. “It already is.”

About the Author Ally Blue is acknowledged by the world at large (or at least by her heroes, who tend to suffer a lot) as the Popess of Gay Angst. She has a great big penis hat and rides in a bullet-proof Plexiglas bubble in Christmas parades. Her harem of manwhores does double duty as bodyguards and inspirational entertainment. Her favorite band is Radiohead, her favorite color is lime green and her favorite way to waste a perfectly good Saturday is to watch all three extended-version LOTR movies in a row. Her ultimate dream is to one day ditch the evil day job and support the family on manlove alone. She is not a hippie or a brain surgeon, no matter what her kids’ friends say. To learn more about Ally Blue, please visit www.allyblue.com. Send an email to Ally at [email protected], follow her on Twitter @PopessAllyBlue or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Ally http://groups.yahoo.com/group/loveisblue/.

Look for these titles by Ally Blue Now Available: Willow Bend Love’s Evolution Eros Rising Catching a Buzz Fireflies Untamed Heart The Happy Onion Adder Life, Love and Lemon Cookies

Mother Earth Dragon’s Kiss Shenandoah Convergence

Bay City Paranormal Investigations Oleander House What Hides Inside Twilight Closer

An Inner Darkness Where the Heart Is Love, Like Ghosts

Coming Soon: Graceland

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