A cold mist hung over the valley in the morning. Gretta crouched on the promontory, trying to plot a path across the valley that would avoid coming close to any of the mounds. She couldn’t find a safe path at all. She scrambled down the slope to join Hans. Silently, he handed her half a snack bar, and they set off down the slope into the valley. Once out of the trees, they ran in short dashes from one patch of cover to the next, pausing to check for movement. The sun was high overhead and the mist had burned off by the time they collapsed behind a small rocky outcrop. Gretta had inspected it thoroughly to be sure it was just a rock. She could hear the river now.

After a short rest, Hans pointed to indicate the direction of their next dash, toward some sickly shrubs. Wearily, Gretta got up to follow him. Halfway to cover, she stumbled on a pile of smoothly rounded rocks and fell to her hands and knees. Something crunched under her left hand. Gretta looked down and made a small surprised noise before she could stop herself. They weren’t rocks. They were skulls. Human skulls. She leapt up, frantically scrubbing her hand on her coat. She couldn’t see anywhere to step that wasn’t blocked by an empty stare or a gap-toothed grin. She stifled a sob. And then Hans was there, grabbing her arm and yanking her forward.

A deep grinding noise started up from the mound on the left. Grass and dirt cascaded down, as a turret began to rotate. A bright red dot appeared on her brother’s left shoulder. Gretta gave Hans a hard shove that put him behind the next mound. Something whined past her ear. Suddenly her arm was stinging. She dived forward and hit the ground next to Hans then rolled to look back. Chunks of turf were leaping up in the air where she’d been standing.

“Flechettes,” Hans said, breathing hard. “Must be the only ammunition it has left.”

There was a shriek from behind them, and the mech firing at them rotated its turret away and began firing again. Crashes and grinding noises and electronic chirps and wails rose up all around them.

“We can’t stay here,” Hans said. He pulled Gretta up and they ran straight toward the river, not bothering to seek cover now. Judging by the sounds coming from behind them, at least a dozen mechs had woken up and were shooting at each other.

They reached the river and plunged straight into the freezing water. Something whistled overhead and splashed twenty meters downstream. Gretta didn’t think it was possible to move any faster, but she put on an extra burst of speed then, slipping and falling on the slick stones and scrambling up again.

The trees on the far side of the river were tall and green, nothing like their sickly cousins around the battleground. They ran on into the forest and kept going. When the noise behind them had faded Gretta stopped suddenly, swaying. Hans looked back.

“We should keep going,” he said.

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Gretta was pulling at the sleeve of her coat, wondering why her arm was hurting.

“Oh no,” Hans said. A great deal of blood was seeping out of the gash in her coat. Seeing that, Gretta sat down abruptly. Hans squatted beside her, easing off her pack and her coat. She thought she might just stop paying attention to everything for a little while.

She opened her eyes when something prodded her lips.

“What?” she said, and then shut her mouth on a chunk of chocolate. “I thought we were going to save that.”

“I am declaring a new rule: Everyone who gets attacked by a bunch of senile battle-mechs gets a chocolate ration,” Hans said.

She looked down at her arm. He’d made a bandage out of a shirt and tied it around the wound. He waved a small object at her. It looked like a cross between a dart and a tiny rusty knife blade.

“A couple of flechettes hit your pack. I’m afraid you’ve probably got holes in your underwear now.”

“You stay out of my underwear,” Gretta said weakly, and he grinned.

“Do you think you can walk for a while?” he said. “I’d prefer to put some distance between us and the murder bots.”

Gretta nodded, and he helped her get her coat back on. They moved further into the trees, then turned in the direction that they thought was south and went on for an hour. Hans tried the phone but couldn’t get a GPS signal in the trees. It was starting to get dark so they made camp in a hollow near a stream, and warmed a can of soup by a small fire. Gretta found having hot food cheered her immensely.

“Do you think that’s the last of the mechs?” she said. “We’re out of the restricted area now, aren’t we?”

“Well, no guarantee that there isn’t the odd one lurking in the forest, but if it’s only one at a time we can give them a wide berth,” Hans said. “We should move back in sight of the river tomorrow. It’s too easy to get lost in here.”

The next morning was dull and overcast, the sullen clouds hinting at rain to come. Gretta awoke to Hans prodding her sleeping bag.

“Come on, shake a leg,” he said. She groaned, and opened her eyes slowly. She sat up, shivering. Her arm throbbed dully.

“I don’t feel very well,” she said. Hans felt her forehead.

“You feel a bit cold,” he said. “Here, I made some pine needle tea in the soup can. That might warm you up.” Gretta sipped at the tin slowly, feeling the tepid liquid warm her from the inside.

“Looks like rain,” Hans said. “If we’re going to stay here, we’ll need to build a shelter.”

“I can walk,” Gretta said, handing him the empty can. “We can look for a better place to camp as we go.”

Hans got the campsite packed up while Gretta put her boots back on, and they set off. After a while she fell into a sort of trance, plodding along after the bobbing patch of orange that was Hans’ pack. Eventually they could see a brighter area through the trees and hear the river. Hans got the phone out once they were out of the trees and checked the GPS and the map, then adjusted their direction. Gretta said nothing. Her head ached, and away from the protection of the trees the wind had an icy bite to it. She put up the hood of her coat and followed Hans. Rain mixed with sleet began to fall, stinging her face.

She didn’t notice Hans had stopped until she walked into him. He was pointing off to his right and shouting something. She nodded dumbly and followed him until the pounding of the rain on her hood stopped abruptly. They were in a shallow cave, formed by a fallen tree resting on a rocky outcrop. She swayed and sat down abruptly. Hans gave her a concerned look, and began moving around too quickly for her eyes to keep up. She shut them for a moment, and when she opened them again the cave was glowing with the flickering shadows from a fire, and Hans was tugging at her coat. He got her dressed in relatively dry clothes and into her sleeping bag, then fed her a snack bar in small pieces. She didn’t feel hungry and realized dimly that was a bad sign. The last thing she remembered was staring at the dancing flames.