Pait felt like she was in some fantasy world where everything was green and sticky—leaves and vines and greenish light everywhere, and the air was so damp each breath made her feel like she’d drown. And the noise. She’d always been confused by the moon’s name this time of year: Singing Moon, named for the cicada song that filled the last month of summer. But living in Luvatha, she’d never heard many cicadas, and now that she was getting extremely familiar with the sound, she would not name it Singing. They flew around everywhere like bullets with bulbous red eyes, screeching. People practically had to shout to be heard. She’d been in this forest for all of a day and already had two different cicadas fly directly into her forehead. Not to mention the fact that they left husks of shed exoskeletons all over the place.

Then there was the fact that she’d gone hours without even seeing solid ground, much less standing on it. These trees were obscene, standing far, far taller than even Luvatha’s Arena, and probably reaching just as wide. Every step she took made the wooden landings beneath her creak and shift—and everything was just open. Even Daivad’s house, when he’d shown it to her earlier, had all open windows and no doors. Everywhere she went, she felt at once exposed and trapped. With nothing familiar to ground her—not even the ground itself.

There were strangers everywhere, hauling wooden boards or small logs, loads of freshly washed linens and jugs of water, their marks on display as if they were nothing more than a blemish of the skin. Carefully tied bundles of all shapes and sizes flew by on zip-lines, and lifts laden with heavy boxes constantly creaked up and down, from level to level. Everyone was so busy that no one even looked at her, and Pait wasn’t sure if she was happy about that or not. Regardless of the fact that eyes skipped over her like she was nothing, Pait kept her forearm safely hidden within her cloak.

Pait had never thought that she would be homesick for Madam Agatha’s basement.

Was this her life now?

How had this happened? How had everything changed in just one night?

Tears prickled Pait’s eyes, but she set her jaw and blinked them back. Mother Light, in this damp-ass forest even her eyes couldn’t stay dry.

She wanted to leave, wanted to run—if she could just get through this forest, find the nearest city, at least she’d have something familiar, even if it was just alleyways full of shitstink and a guard to hassle her. Someone had mentioned horses—if she could find a map, maybe she could steal a horse and…

“Hey.” A dirty face framed by mousy brown hair appeared before Pait’s eyes. “You’re named Pait?”

Pait reeled back, bumping into someone behind her and mumbling a quick “Sorry” (which probably got drowned out by the cicada screeching anyway), then took in the kid before her. They wore a faded brown tunic and filthy bare feet and kept their fists propped on bony hips, elbows jutting out—and a mark. She couldn’t read the letters because the kid’s inner forearm was half turned away, but … someone younger than Pait had a mark.

Without waiting for Pait’s response, the kid announced, “I’m Tash. How many years you got?”

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But when filtered through their accent and the green stalk hanging out of their mouth that moved up and down every time they chewed, to Pait’s ears it sounded like, “Ah’tasch. How’m’nee yearscha gah?”

Pait blinked. “Huh?”

“Tasha,” chided a deeper voice from behind Pait, making her turn to see a stocky person, maybe twenty years old, crossing a hanging bridge toward the landing, “name the times I’ve told you—keep your mouth clear when words are coming out of it!”

Tash rolled their eyes, but pulled the stalk out of their mouth. “How ‘bout I name a minute ago when you told me to clean my teeth ‘fore facin’ the new girl.”

“Yeah, before. And quit trying to claim Doll’s accent.” They came to a stop beside Pait and gave her an apologetic smile. “Pardon my brat sister and her lack of manners. She thinks because she lives in this forest she can act like a monster. I’m Ori. And she was trying to ask after your age.”

Tash shooed Ori with the hand that still held her half-chewed stalk, flinging spit on them. “Daivad named me to introduce myself, a girl with about as many years as she’s got, not you, old man.”

Pait bristled. “I’ve got more years than you. Mine definitely number closer to his than yours.”

Ori shot Pait a patronizing look that had her gritting her teeth.

“How many?” Tash asked.

Pait opened her mouth to automatically say Eighteen—but stopped herself. The last time she’d claimed that many years, it had earned her a mark. She felt her face heating as she scrambled for another answer. But she couldn’t tell the truth because the truth was—she didn’t know.

Finally, she said, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Well, to my eyes you look like you’ve only made a few more rounds ‘round the sun than me, and I’ve got a couple month’s ‘fore I’m twelve. I s’jest you claim as few as you can—grown folks gotta work more.” Tash stuck her stalk back in her mouth and resumed chewing, a faint minty scent wafting off her.

Before Pait could respond to that, Tash plowed ahead. “Daivad claimed all our beds are full, but I’m slight enough that mine’s only half full, if you want the other half.” The longer she talked, the more exaggerated her accent became. “There’s two other kids sleepin’ in my room while they’re waitin’ for the new houses to go up, but neither of ‘em snore’r nothin’, so it could be named Worse.”

“One detail you’re forgetting to name, Tash,” Ori said, arms crossed over the front of his tunic. “You kick in your sleep.”

“Why won’t you let that lie go?”

“Because it’s not named Lie, Tasha.”

Exasperated, mouth full of her minty-smelling stalk, Tash said, “Ain’t there some grown folks somewhere you can go be boring with?”

Ori sighed deeply, then turned to Pait. “Glad to meet you, Pait. I know it looks like Chaos up in these branches right now, but it’ll settle soon enough. If you’ve got any questions needing answers or any hands ready for helping, just name it. I’ll be around.” He smiled and gave her a nod.

As he walked off, Tash yelled, “Around for another year or two, maybe, you old fart!”

When he was gone, Tash turned to grin at Pait and said, “I love him.”

Pait raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“If he knew, I couldn’t name it Fun.”