Ember
Cold wind blowing over my battered body wakes me briefly. The tang of iron from my blood fills my nose, along with the scent of damp earth, grass, and pine. My connection to my pack is gone—the feeble humming that used to be there is disconnected from my mind.
Everything hurts, from trying to move to trying to breathe, and I wonder why I haven’t died yet. The beating should have killed me.
How long has it been since I was tossed into no-man’s land? Has it been minutes? Hours? Days, even?
I want to open my eyes, but they’re swollen shut from the beating. Goddess, how did it come to this—I can’t even cry.
***
Two Days Ago
***
Shivering from the cold wind blowing in my face, I hurriedly walk through the packlands with arms full of vegetables from the greenhouse. Tonight, I’ve be
