Luke barely managed a nod before closing his eyes again. Within seconds, he was asleep. His grip slackened on Glass’s hand, and she gently placed his arm down on the bed. She checked his leg. The redness had spread all the way down to his knee and up to his hip. She didn’t know much about this kind of thing, but Glass had enough sense to know that if she didn’t get him some help, Luke was going to die. They had to go. Now.

Glass sat down at the wooden kitchen table and tried to clear her head, trying to push away the fear that had been gnawing a hole through her gut for days. Fear was not going to get them out of here. She had to think. They had to get back to camp. That was their only shot at getting Luke the help he needed. But Glass would have to figure out how to transport Luke, who could barely walk even with her help, and evade the Earthborns at the same time. A spacewalk was suddenly looking simple compared to this. How could they possibly move fast enough to escape, with Luke in this condition?

Glass scanned the tiny cabin, searching for inspiration. The paralyzing grip of fear slowly began to release its hold on her, and her mind kicked into gear. Yes, if she could get him to the river… that would work… but how to move him? Her eyes fell on an odd device she and Luke had scratched their heads at when they first got there. It leaned upright against a wall in the corner, behind a broom and some other ancient-looking cleaning supplies. She crossed the room and dug it out, laying it down on the floor. It was as tall as she was, made of long wooden slats. It was almost a long plank, but at one end the slats all curved back on themselves. There was a rope tied there.

It reminded her of something she’d read about in tutorial once. Something kids used to ride in the snow on Earth. She racked her brain for the word. Slide? Sloop? Glass stepped on the slats with one foot, testing their strength. It was old, but it was solid. If she could get Luke onto it, she could pull him, but she’d have to make a few adjustments.

She stood up, grabbed a few items from around the room, and laid them out on the floor next to the… sled! It was a sled. She was sure of it. Now she just needed to make it work. She arranged and rearranged things into different configurations, testing them, then trying again. Glass shook her head grimly. If someone had told her six months—or even six weeks—ago that she’d be rigging a contraption out of junk she’d found in an abandoned cabin on Earth to carry her mortally wounded boyfriend through the woods, she’d have laughed in their face and asked if they’d gotten into the illegal moonshine they sold on Arcadia.

She stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. It was going to work. It had to work. Glass would use the rope to pull Luke along behind her. To keep him in place, she had cut a blanket into long strips that would secure him around the waist, arms, and good leg, all tied to the top of the sled.

It was pretty rudimentary, but with any luck, it would get them to the water. That was all she needed.

Glass crossed to Luke and gently roused him. “Luke,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m going to move you, okay? We need to get back to camp.” He didn’t respond. Glass slid her hands under his arms, crossed her arms over his chest, and, with a grunt, eased him onto the floor. He flinched as his injured leg moved, but didn’t wake up. She pulled him onto the sled and fastened the sheet around him. Glass squatted down, grabbed the rope and looped it around her hands, and rose to a standing position. She took a few steps forward, and Luke moved along the floor behind her. It had worked.

Glass grabbed Luke’s gun—though she wasn’t sure she had the nerve to use it—and lumbered toward the door. At the last second, she turned back and snatched a pack of matches off the table in case she’d need to start a fire during their journey. The weight behind her was awkward and threw her off-center, but she would have to get the hang of it. Without a backward glance, she stepped out of the cabin, dragging the sled behind her into the narrow clearing that circled the house.

Thwack! Glass spun her head around, searching for the source of the sound. Thwack! It came again.

She glanced at the forest. In the twilight, every shadow looked like it could be an enemy.

She lunged back toward the cabin, yanking Luke behind her. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and felt something whiz by her ear.

Glass strained against the weight of the sled and heard Luke groan in pain. She yanked open the door and charged through it as an arrow smacked in the door frame, quivering where her head had been only a split second before.

The sled slid in after her, and Glass dropped the harness and slammed the door shut, just as two more arrows thudded into it. She leaned against the closed door, gripping the gun in her suddenly clammy hand. She looked around the cabin. Could she barricade the door? Would they break in through one of the windows?

She latched the door and tentatively lifted Luke’s gun, steeling herself. If one of the Earthborns broke in through the window, could she fight them? Could she bring herself to fire a gun at another living person? Even if she did, there was clearly more than one of them. One girl who had never before fired a gun was no match for a group of murderous Earthborns.

From the sled, Luke groaned.

“It’s going to be all right. I’ll figure something out,” she said, wincing at the lie. How could she escape a cabin that was surrounded by angry Earthborns?

She peered through the corner of a window. The graying light played tricks with the shadows, but there was movement out there. Figures darted between the trees, their hands gripping bows and axes.