It’s slow going through the grasses as we try not to move through them quickly so that the swaying grasses draw attention. But as we go and no responses come our way, I begin to hope that we can pass through uneventfully.
Then, abruptly, something shines from one of the compound’s towers. I freeze in my tracks like a deer. My heart jumps. It’s a sign to the second compound.
They’ve spotted us.
No later than I think this, a shot grazes through the grass and zips past me, dangerously close to striking my neck. The bullet hits the dirt so hard that mud splatters onto my face.
Instantly, Adena flattens herself to a low belly crawl and speeds up. “Move,” she signs back at us with a cutting hand gesture.
We copy her and cut through the grasses as quick as we can. Even now, our movements barely register a sound. But when I glance up, I can see the first hints of figures emerging from the nearest compound gates. Strikers with their masks up.
I’ve been hunted before by Ghosts and by Federation soldiers, but never by Strikers. Never my own. So now, for the first time, I’m on the receiving end of the terror of seeing those sapphire coats heading silently in my direction, and the Strikers’ dark, ominous eyes above the veil of their masks. Friends and allies I’ve sat with in the mess hall. Killers trained in everything I know. One and the same.
“They see us,” I sign to everyone. “It doesn’t matter now if we hide. We just need to move fast.” So I straighten and start sprinting.
The others do the same. We cut wildly through the grasses, keeping our heads low and bodies tucked in close so that the snipers firing at us have a harder time. A second bullet hits a foot away from me, a third so close to Red that it grazes his arm, leaving a burnt streak. He doesn’t even flinch.
The Strikers are closing the distance between us. I wipe sweat from my brow and keep my eyes ahead.
Then the clearing before us suddenly parts, widening abruptly into a valley thick with trees. We dart for the dim paths of the woods—
—and run right into a patrol of Strikers.
If we’d been hunting Ghosts, Jeran, Adena, and I would never have stumbled into enemies like this. We’re trained to track Ghosts and Federation troops, know the sounds and mistakes they make. But pittingStrikers against one another is something else entirely. I didn’t hear them coming, and neither did they hear us.
There’s the smallest fraction of a second in which we all look stunned at the sight of one another. Instantly I recognize two of them as Tomm and Pira. The other four are faces I know from the arena. They have simply materialized through the dim light of the forest, their silhouettes rippling in the dark.
The light of recognition hits their eyes at the same time. Then Tomm narrows his eyes and lunges for me.
Every instinct trained into me now surges through my veins. My body reacts—I duck down and seize the dagger in my boot, then bring it up in time to block his hit with the hilt of his blade. Another Striker aims for my other side, but Jeran’s already there. Somehow he manages to knock the blade from the second Striker’s hand and turn it on him. Adena is fending off the two others, all the while trying to get into her canvas bag of weapons.
My eyes sweep desperately over to the edge of the forest. The end of the warfront—and beginning of Federation land—is just beyond us, so close I can taste it. If we could just get over, we might run into enemy troops, but at least the Strikers won’t follow us.
Then I see Red. His teeth are bared. In one mighty sweep, his wings unfurl to their full expanse. He turns his rage in the direction of the Strikers fighting Adena.
Panic surges through me. I shove Tomm back and send a thought barreling through my link with Red.Don’t hurt them!
His head whips toward me.
They’re Strikers, I tell him as Tomm hits me again. This time his hilt catches me in my side and I dart away, pain lancing up and down my body.Mara needs them.
As soon as I think this, Pira’s blades flash before my eyes. I flinch.There are just too many of them, and I don’t have my other weapons with me. They’ll capture us at this rate unless we spill their blood. Unless—
—and then I realize that Pira isn’t attacking me, but clashing blades with Tomm. She shoves her Shield back before giving us an angry glance.
“Stop playing games and get the hell out of here,” she signs to me with rapid, cutting gestures. Then she whirls to face Tomm as he gives her an incredulous stare.
“What are you doing?” he signs furiously. “Firstblade’s orders!”
But Pira just shakes her head. There’s no time to explain, and we’re too close to the border to risk speaking out loud.
I don’t linger, even though I want to meet Pira’s gaze and ask her why she’s helping us. There’s no time for questions or conversation. Nearby, Jeran breaks away from the Strikers he’s fighting. Adena has managed to wrestle out two of her blades from her canvas bag and connected their hilts together, turning them into a new double-bladed weapon, and slices a deep gash into one of the Striker’s legs. He stumbles, wincing. Still silent, as trained to be.
I dart for the border with Red. Jeran sees my movement and breaks away from his Strikers long enough to make a run too. Adena stumbles backward, but Jeran reaches her and catches her as she’s about to fall, yanking her upright again and pulling her forward. We all run.
Red drops back behind us. As we gain speed, he whirls around and bares his wings at the oncoming Strikers. They shrink back slightly, hesitant to attack him. He turns around and tilts his wings down, lifting himself into the air, and glides over us in a single sweep.
We’re almost there. The forest feels like it parts for us as we sprint. The trees start to look unfamiliar.
