“Thank you.” I don’t say anything else. I know what it’s like to feel like you have nothing to offer someone in need. I know how hard it is to even say thank you.

The motocycles are slick, large beasts, recovered from Guild warehouses near the abandoned mine sites. Chrome tubes twist along their bodies and even parked they look nearly as large as motocarriages. The man gives Amie and me a tutorial on how to ride them. I don’t tell him that I’ve ridden one before or that I’m terrified of it now. Both because I don’t want to look ungrateful and to set a good example for my sister. More than anything she needs to see that I’m strong and capable in this world. The engine hums to life between my legs, the vibration traveling up through my fingers and dying on their damaged tips, and I grip the handles tightly and kick off from the dirt. We roar forward to our last hope.

With the motocycles the journey to the outpost takes only a few hours. We have a compass to guide us, but it doesn’t take us long to see signs of life. Now that the population of Earth has grown exponentially, travel between the new outposts is more common. And with the number of refugees and wounded on Earth, more and more people are reaching out to the fledgling communities that surround them. We pass two young men walking down the road toward the camp we came from. They wave hello and I slow to speak to them.

“We heard there’s a camp full of the wounded ahead.”

“We have a few, miss. They were at the battle of Allia.”

My heart beats hard, and I’m sure it can be heard over the roar of the engine. The Eastern capital. That was where Cormac unleashed his forces. I know Erik and Jost were there.

“Can we give you a ride?” Amie asks.

“No, miss.” The boy smiles widely at her, and I realize, with more than a little apprehension, that he thinks she’s pretty.

It’s still hard to fathom that my baby sister is nearly as old as I am now. Or that she’s grown into a young woman. It had been only months for me that we were separated, but it’s been years for her. She grew up while I wasn’t looking.

“We should go, Amie.”

She shoots me an annoyed, if amused, look. Maybe I do know how to protect her.

The camp isn’t far ahead and we park the bikes outside the tents.

“You know, there aren’t purity standards here,” Amie tells me, poking me in the arm. “I can talk to boys.”

“It’s not the talking to boys I’m worried about,” I say dryly.

“I’m not the one stalking across half the world looking for a boy.” Amie claps a hand over her mouth. I know she wishes she could take it back, but I roll my eyes, unwilling to betray the stab of pain in my chest. Her accusation hurts because it’s true.

We don’t talk about Erik. She hasn’t asked me about him since we’ve been on Earth, but love is one emotion that leaves its marks on you. Even my kid sister can see them.

“That’s why I’m worried about you,” I say. “Trust me, this isn’t something I want for you.”

Amie stops me and studies my face for a moment. “You love him?”

No matter how I frame these trips as being about finding Sebrina, I hope to find him, too. And she can see that, so I nod.

“Why wouldn’t you want that for me?” she asks. “We were lucky to grow up with parents who loved each other, Ad. It’s okay to be in love.”

I can only give her a tiny smile. I don’t tell her that this is killing me. Not knowing. Pretending to be strong when I need to crumble. That this is what love is: vulnerability.

“About purity standards,” Amie says, changing the subject.

“Yes?”

“Any chance you still meet them?”

“You saw Erik,” I say, grinning despite myself. “What do you think?”

“Forget I asked.”

Zigzagging through the tents, we stop to speak to survivors, looking for directions and tips like we’ve done in every camp thus far. At the base of one tent, a woman eyes us warily as we approach.

“Hello,” I say, trying to sound friendly. “We’re looking for some survivors from Allia. We think they might be here. Two—”

“Don’t know anything about two brothers,” she says.

I look at Amie. I hadn’t said anything about brothers. I push down my mounting suspicion, but I can’t bring myself to say anything. Or I’ll want to accuse the woman of lying.

“Are you sure?” Amie asks. Her tone is naturally kinder than mine.

“Nope.”

“Thanks anyway,” I say, grabbing Amie’s arm and dragging her off. I know the woman is watching us.

“What was that about?” Amie ponders out loud.

“They have to be here,” I say through gritted teeth. My eyes dart between the tents and before I can stop myself I start lifting the flaps and looking inside them. More than a few people yell at me, but I wave an apologetic hand and continue looking.

“Why would she lie to us?”

“I don’t know.”

When I lift the next flap, I’m staring at Alix.

She’s chopped her long blond hair into a bob and she’s dressed in jeans and an old flannel shirt. No one would think this woman is a threat, but I don’t know what to think of her at all. I know she’s capable of force, and of deception. That’s why I’m not surprised to see her here. I’ve thought Alix was hiding something since she showed up in Cormac’s offices. Why else would she take off as soon as we reached the surface?