I leave the crowd and head to the stables. My stomach rumbles angrily as I pass by a bakery. A girl in a big red apron is carrying loaves of bread from an outside stand into the bakery. She disappears inside, leaving a couple loaves unattended. Part of me, a very big part, wants to grab a loaf and run off to the stables. That must be the part that stole a bowl today and got away from it. I remind myself that I have food hidden in the stables and walk away from the bakery.

When I reach my horses’ stall he greets me with a whinny and a nudge of his head.

I run my hand down his back and then start to kick the hay out of the way to get at my supplies. Nothing. I drop down to the ground and dig in the hay with my hands. Nothing! I lean against the stable, my head hitting the wood with a heavy thud. I guess stealing a horse is too big a job. Stealing a bag of food is another matter. My leg throbs from all the exertion of the day, momentarily distracting me from my hunger. I unwrap the bandage and examine the cut. It’s healing well, even with the way I’m treating it. I should be more grateful for Abbey and Ryan’s help. I should be, but don’t think I can manage any true gratitude.

I watch horse for a while and try not to be jealous as he munches on some hay.

I stroke his neck and wonder what sort of disservice I’ve done him. Perhaps he liked his life back on the farm. “Just you wait,” I tell him. “Soon you’ll be in the Forsyth. You’ll love it there.” I close my eyes and think of the trees. Back in the forest, there are no painful leg injuries and no rumbling bellies. Just green leaves.

The braided man appears in front of me instantly. He finds me while I’m sleeping in my house, pulling me out of my bed by the throat. “Your brother’s gone,” he whispers, his voice painful to hear. Then, with a wide smile, he lets go of me. Instead of falling back to my bed, I drop into a darkness. Falling and falling. And no matter how far away I get from the braided man, I can still see him clearly. His terrible grin. His dark hair wrapped around his throat. The huge blade by his side. I hit the ground with a burst of pain. I can hear him laugh, the noise ushering me from the dream like (what?).

I wake with a yell, startling the horse. He bounds up and stamps the ground, ready to race away from the danger. I get up and try to calm him, patting his neck and hushing him.

“It's fine, we’re fine,” I tell him, the words more for myself than anything else. “It’s just us here.” It’s almost light out, the gray sky grows brighter by the moment. I leave the stables and head onto the main street. The Delphast is pretty empty, but as the light grows more and more people appear on the streets. I head up the spiral path and arrive in the square when an ornate golden clock stuck in the middle of ground chimes six. I hadn’t seen it before with all the people and go to look at it now. Its level with the ground, the golden numbers covered in a thick layer of something that looks like glass. It’s beautiful, I suppose, but I prefer the pocket watch that my dad has.

More people are entering the square and so I climb up to the balcony, sitting in the same spot Layla was yesterday. I settle in to wait for her. There are endless people to watch and the time goes by quickly.

“Catch!”

I react in just enough time to grab the roll Layla tosses me from below. Its five minutes to one, according to the clock tower in the square. I jump down from the balcony and land next to Layla. She’d appeared right below me, in the exact spot I had been looking. I’m not sure how she managed to sneak up on me. “Where did you come from?”

“Around,” she says, straightening the hood so it covers most of her forehead. The roll in my hand is still soft and warm. I wonder if she’s stolen it.

“You miss me?” Layla teases.

I had, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. Instead I practically inhale the roll, devouring it in two bites. “I missed food.”

“Don’t we all,” she says casually.

Although we’re in the same position now, it’s easy for me to forget that we come from different places. Back home rolls were part of the meal, not a main course. Not the only thing I’ll eat today.

“There'll be more food later,” Layla says. “We managed to split up that bowl, pick out the gems, even reshape the silver. You picked the perfect thing. We’ll eat like above grounders tonight.”

“Above grounders?

“Rich folk. Where we are now,” Layla gestures up at the tall buildings. “This part of the Delphast is called the mountain. I’m sure you can figure out why. All the rich folk, the above grounders, they live in their mountain of towers. The richer they are, the higher up they live. The good old Kai lives at the very top. Most folk live on the ground level, the flats we call it. They’d probably call themselves poor. But there is another part of this city that not too many people know about.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“And where’s that?”

“You’ve already heard about it. I’m sure people have been yelling at you to return there all day.”

“The slums?”

“Some would call it that,” Layla says. “It’s where we’re headed right now. Trust me, you’ll fit right in.” She points at my pants, one leg ripped much higher than the other. “Is that the style in the Forsyth? Are knees considered very pretty there?”

She doesn’t give me a chance to respond, not that I’d really know how. Just like yesterday she grabs my hand without warning and pulls me forward through the square. After almost running into a building, I try to pay attention to where I’m going and not to how warm Layla’s hand is in mine.

On the way down the mountain, as Layla had called it, we pass by the war lecturing man in the suit. He has moved his little black box to a new location. He has less of a crowd than yesterday. It doesn’t seem to bother him. He is yelling the same speech, his face red from lack of breath.

“The people in the Forsyth think the war’s a good idea?” Layla asks as we pass by him.

“Not really. We didn’t give it much thought until the Kai outlawed us living in the forest.”

Layla taps one finger to her forehead. “Smart of you, eh? Unfortunately times up. Soon we’ll all have to think about it. These idiots will make it so. They’re so hungry for it, they don’t care about the facts anymore. They want blood.” She grins, baring her teeth in an almost animal way. “And they say the west is filled with savages.”

Instead of heading all the way down the spiral road, into the Flats, I remind myself, Layla pulls me into an alley. It is so skinny that she has to let go of me. My hand feels oddly cold without hers. This alley slopes downward into a tunnel and then back up. I can’t hear the main streets anymore. We wreck the quiet with our footsteps. When we turn into another alley, Layla stops. At the end of this alley is an arch leading into darkness. It looks like the entrance has been boarded up several times and then broken through. Slabs of jagged boards outline the arch. They surround the darkness like the teeth of some great monster. I pause at the entrance. I can’t see inside. It is too dark.

“In you get,” Layla says, giving me a light push.

I don’t budge. “I don’t really understand. I thought you were taking me to where Evan is. He isn’t in some slum, is he?”

“Yes and no,” Layla says. “No, I’m not taking you to see your brother and yes, this is a slum. You said you’d trust me, so in you go.” She pushes me again.

I spin around and catch her hand. It’s amazing how quickly my anger takes hold. My body feels hot as I close the gap between Layla and myself in two steps. I pound my fist on the wall behind her and then keep it there, trapping her against the metal. “You promised you’d help me! Where is Evan?”

Layla doesn’t seem intimidated at all. Her eyes are almost glittering. She smiles at me like she’s sees something wonderful. It takes me out of my anger. I can feel the heat leaving my body. I lower my arm and take a step back.

“You’re new to all of this,” Layla says. “So I won’t blame you for not believing me. Let me tell you now that I always keep my word. You’re free to go at any time, but if you want my help, if you want to find your brother, you need to trust me. I’ve dedicated my life to uncovering the secrets you’ve stumbled into. And now what? You expect me to tell you all I know? I’ve been killing myself over the past years to gain this information and you just want me to give it to you like that?” She snaps her fingers. The sound echoes in the alley. “You have to prove yourself.”

“What about the bowl?”

“What about it? That got you here. And now I’m asking for more.” She must see the pain on my face, the disappointment, because when she speaks again her voice is softer. “I’m not unkind though. I’ll give you something to go on. Now this information has taken me years to collect, so consider yourself gods blessed. One, your brother is in a place called the Keep. Two, the Keep is in the Forsyth.”

Her words hang in the air for a moment. My brain is spinning, trying to remember if I’ve heard that term before. “The Keep? What is that? Where in the Forsyth? How far away is it? Who runs it? The braided man?

Layla takes a step forward and places a single finger on my mouth. I want to push her away, but I don’t. For some reason, I can smell pine needles.

“No questions,” she says and takes her finger away. “If you don’t trust me, well you don’t have to take my word for it. I’m about to introduce you to a whole mess of kids who all know the same. Down in these slums you’ll find several things. The unwanted. The forgotten. And most importantly a group of kids that I formed. Some have lost people like your brother, others just want to help, some want protection. We are all working the same angle, eh?

“Some sort of group of poor kids that are going to help me save my brother?” I spew sarcastically.

“More or less,” Layla says, crossing her arms.

“That sounds ridiculous.”

Layla grins crookedly. “It is. Become a part of the group and you’ll get the information you need. Members only, kid.”

“Why are you trusting me?” I ask her, because I truly don’t understand how I’ve gotten into this situation and what she is asking me to do.

“I like the look of you,” she winks at me, “and I know you’ll do what it takes. You ready?”

“Just one more thing,” I say. I’m lying. There are a thousand more things. “When will I get to know more?”

“When I say you do,” she says and then walks through the jagged arch and disappears into the dark. My gut tells me to follow her. But my mind wants to go over the facts. My options are limited. I know this. I could keep walking around the Delphast asking everyone about the train. Not that I was getting anywhere and, according to Layla, that could get me thrown in a cell. If Layla is right about my brother being in the Forsyth, I could go and search it for a place called the Keep. That option is the most absurd. The Forsyth is massive. It would take me months if not years to search. This leaves me with my third option. Trust Layla. It only takes me a few seconds to decide. In fact, it’s not much of a decision at all. I follow my gut and head through the arch.