Astrid runs, the forest closing in around her, branches scraping her arms. Her mind is racing. She could keep running, disappear like Matthias taught her, or she could circle back, find a way to help.

The decision gnaws at her. She isn’t sure if it’s bravery or recklessness, but she stops. The sound of fighting echoes faintly from the village behind her, and that’s when she spots something—or rather, someone—in the shadows ahead.

Her eyes narrow. Whoever they are, they’ve seen her too, because they bolt without a second’s hesitation. Panic surges through her veins. A soldier? A spy? Were they running to alert the others of her whereabouts? She couldn’t risk it. Without thinking, she sprint after them, her footsteps light, her heart still pounding.

The chase doesn’t last long. She finds the figure—just a boy, behind a thin tree, panting as if he hadn’t expected to be followed. He’s no soldier.

“I can see you.” Astrid says.

The boy coughs, stepping out from his poor hiding spot. “Yes, of course.” He mutters, attempting nonchalance. “I wasn’t hiding.”

Astrid takes in his appearance: long, bony limbs, pumpkin-orange hair, pale freckled skin, and eyes an unsettling shade of cabbage green.

“Who are you?” She questions. “Why were you watching me?”

“I-I wasn’t watching you.” The boy stammers. “I was watching the village. Pastiel… he got your people too, didn’t he? He took my father.”

“Your father?” Astrid raises an eyebrow.

The boy swallows hard, nodding. “Yeah. He’s not a prisoner, he’s a scientist. Pastiel’s forcing him to work for him. My name’s Fox, by the way.”

“Like the animal?” Astrid laughs. “Sure.”

Fox blinks, unsure whether to be insulted or not. “You’re Astrid.” He says. “I heard a man call you that.”

Astrid’s hand instinctively moves to her bow. She lifts it slightly, aiming just enough to remind him of the threat. “You’re hearing and seeing a lot of things you shouldn’t.” She whispers. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t put an arrow through you right now.”

Fox’s eyes widen, and he raises his hands in surrender. “W-what?”

“You’re just a liability. For all I know, you’ll run straight back to them and tell them where I am. How can I trust anything you’ve said?”

“I wouldn’t! Wait!” His voice is desperate. “I can help you. No one knows who I am. My father hid me out here, raised me in the forest. When they took him, they didn’t think to look for me. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get into the prison for a month. I finally found a way.”

Astrid slowly lowers her bow. “Go on.”

“If you tell the guards you’re an orphan, they’ll take you in. No questions asked. They’ve been bringing in kids for labor. I’ve seen it.”

Astrid frowns. “And?”

“Well…” Fox says, rubbing the back of his neck, “that’s… as much as I know.”

“That’s it? You’ve spent a month on this, and all you’ve figured out is how to get in? What if they kill orphans? Ever thought of that?”

Fox’s face reddens. “I don’t know, okay? I just know how to get in… Maybe you can help me figure out the rest.”

Astrid hesitates, biting the inside of her cheek. “They know what I look like.” She says. “If I cover my face with dirt, maybe change my hair a little, they won’t recognize me. Do you have extra clothes?”

Fox looks down. “Why? What’s wrong with my outfit?”

Astrid rolls her eyes. “Not for you, idiot. For me. I need to look like a completely different person.”

“Oh! Yeah, I have something that might fit.”

“Good. Thanks, Bear.”

Fox sighs. “It’s Fox.”

Astrid shrugs. “Eh, animal’s an animal.”

||*||

Fox leads the way to a cabin, similar to the one Astrid and Matthias stayed in, but a lot more abandoned-looking. He walks inside and into a room with just a mattress on the floor, food wrappers scattered, and a chair with a small pile of clothes. “Have at it.” He says, watching as she inspects them.

“Perfect.” She says. “Get out.”

Fox does as told, stepping out of the room and standing by the door while she quickly changes. When she’s finished, they go back outside, and she smears dirt on her face. Then, grabbing a handful of berries from a nearby bush, she crushes them in her hands and streaks the juice through her short hair, darkening it to a reddish-brown.

“All right.” She says, tying a strip of fabric around her head to hide the worst of the berry stains.

Fox gives a small nod of approval. “Wow. You look horrible.”

Astrid smile. “Good. Let’s go.”

She decides she’ll have to leave her bow behind and hides it under the mattress in the cabin. Then, they make their way to the village in silence.

“Remember the plan.” Fox whispers as they near. “We’re just two orphans looking for shelter and work. I’ll talk, you stay quiet.”

Astrid nods, though her heart pounds in her chest. She isn’t used to playing the role of someone helpless, but this is the only way in.

There are two guards at the front. Astrid keeps her head low, and Fox steps forward.

“Excuse me, sirs.” he says, his voice trembling slightly. “We’ve come from the outskirts… We’re orphans. We heard the village is taking people in.”

The guards look them up and down, their expressions unreadable. Fox and Astrid wait in suspense, and finally, one of them speaks.

“Another batch of strays. Lucky you lot. Head to the eastern quarter. They’ll tell you where to go from there.”

Fox nods quickly, and they shuffle past the guards. They’ve made it in. Astrid can barely breathe as they walk the empty streets. She feels like she’s being watched, but forces herself to ignore it, hoping she won’t be recognized.

They arrive at the eastern quarter, where a more guards stand near a large iron gate that clearly leads to the prison. One of the men waves them over.

“Orphans?” He asks.

“Yes, sir.” Fox replies.

“All right, inside.” The man orders, unlocking the gate. “Head to the holding room. You’ll be sorted with the others soon.”

They step inside and move in silence through the dimly lit halls. Finally, they reach a door.

Fox pushes it open.

Inside is a room, far larger than Astrid expected. The ceiling stretches high, and the walls are lined with narrow windows, though little light makes it through the dirty glass.

There are at least two dozen children, ranging in age from small, frightened toddlers to teenagers who seem emotionless. They huddle together in small groups.

Astrid feels sick. These aren’t soldiers or prisoners of war—they’re kids, just like her. Except no, they aren’t like her. They have no weapons, no training. They’re truly helpless. She’s just pretending.

Fox nudges her, leaning close to whisper, “Now what?”

Astrid’s jaw clenches. They’re inside now. All they have to do is figure out how to break everyone else out.

But first, they need to survive whatever comes next.