Warmth wakes me. The sun beats down on my face like it always does. My eyes are heavy and protest when I try to open them. In between heavy blinks all I see is grass. Why am I outside? Why didn’t my mom wake me up and bring me inside? I sit up and grimace with a sudden surge of pain. My arm and leg are throbbing, my neck burns. When did I hurt myself? Then it comes back to me.

“No!”

I look around desperately for Evan, hoping that somehow he managed to fight off the guard and escape. There is no sign of him. I am alone. I force myself to stand. There is a long cut along my calf and several scratches on my arm. There is also a bump on my head. I ignore all this. The sun is high in the sky. It seems too bright without the canopy of trees.

I’m next to the tracks, near the side of the cliff. The fall could have been worse. I’m close enough to the cliff that I could have rolled off. The ground around me is scattered with larger rocks. I must have hit my head on one of them. Gods, why did I risk it? Why didn’t we just stay put! Anger swallows me for a moment, graying my vision or perhaps that’s the bump on my head. I can see the tracks stretch out in front of me, thin gray lines that course through the grass. Even my muddled brain can understand this simple logic. The tracks will lead me to the train and the train to Evan. For a moment I look to the west. I can see the edge of the Forsyth, the dark green trees are as much home as the cabin. If Evan was here we would be traveling that way. Now it’s not an option. Now it’s not even worth a moment of my consideration. I set out along the tracks, limping along one rung at a time.

I don’t get very far before I need to rest. While the cuts on my arm aren’t so bad the one on my leg is deeper than I had thought. It’s still bleeding. If only I was in the forest. I know all about the plants that will dull pain or get rid of an infection. But here? All I see is grass. If I could close the cut it would have a better chance of healing. I’ve seen hunters stitch up deep cuts with animal bones and thread. I don’t even have that. I take a moment to rest then force myself to keep going. This isn’t so bad I tell myself with each step. When I was six I broke my leg falling out of a tree. I was miles away from home. I used a branch as a crutch and slowly shuffled home. This is nowhere near that bad. Still, I can’t help but wince with each step.

By nightfall I reach a point where the tracks slope down and the cliff starts to even out. I want to keep going, but I am exhausted and starving. I sit down against a rock to rest while I regroup and instantly regret it. I have no shelter here and no weapons. I am easy prey. I need to move, to find shelter. But I am just so tired.

“Don’t be an idiot,” I whisper. My voice is rough and raw. I wonder if I screamed while falling off the train. I can’t remember. I try to push myself up. I need to find better shelter. I don’t make it to my feet before my vision grows dark. I don’t remember hitting the ground.

I come to the next morning. “Lucky,” I mutter. “Lucky idiot.” The sun is high in the sky. I slept through the whole night undisturbed. Where was that luck when Evan and I were captured? Or when we tried to escape? I can’t dwell on that now. My head feels better, my mind clear. The scrapes on my arm have closed. The wound on my leg has gotten worse. It is still bleeding and now yellow pus is oozing down my skin. If it’s not infected now, but it will be soon. I take off my coat, slowly undoing the long line of buttons. It’s too hot here for a coat anyways. Frost under the dark leaves of the Forsyth means nothing out here. I rip the sleeves of my black shirt and wrap them around the cut as tightly as possible. It’s not enough though. I rip one of the legs of my pants at the knee and use that around the cut. The pressure helps. I should have done that sooner. I must have hit my head harder than I’d realized.

Stolen novel; please report.

I force myself up and start to walk along the tracks. Along the way I keep a look out for any food. The Forsyth is brimming with food if you know where to look. Berries, edible plants, mushrooms, eggs. And that’s all without a bow. My stomach growls angrily at this line of thought. I know that the eastern cities are surrounded by farms that grow wheat. Their job is to harvest it and feed everyone inside the cities. What I don’t know is if the tall grass that surrounds me is wheat or if it’s simply grass. If only there were some wild animals around. Whatever they eat would probably be safe for me, or at least not poisonous. Apparently I’m the only living thing for miles.

That night I dig myself a small hole in the ground a bit away from the tracks. I use my hands until they bleed, then find a rock and keep digging. I lie down in the shallow ditch and cover myself with grass and dirt just like my dad taught me. It’s not an ideal shelter, but it’s better than being out in the open. It will be hard for any humans to spot me. It won’t fool an animal though. The low growl of the sick deer fills my mind. Did Evan and I encounter that animal only a few days ago? It feels like a lifetime.

Fatigue over takes me quickly, stilling my racing mind. It feels like my eyes are only closed for a moment. I open them when I hear rustling grass and chirping. The sun is just rising. I am instantly alert at the sound. Birds mean food. I push off the grass and dirt and stand up slowly. I scan the prairie for the source of the sound. There, just a few feet away, is a small brown bird. My initial instinct is to catch it. I take one leap forward before realizing I have nothing to catch it with. I do succeed in scaring the bird away.

“Gods!” I shout, kicking the tall grass with my good leg. I almost crush a small nest. I kneel down and cup my hands around the woven nest. There are three white eggs with brown freckles. I smile as I brush the dirt from the eggs. I could have so easily missed them. I’m far too hungry to build a fire. Instead I use my pinky to break the shells and drink the innards of each egg. They are gone much too quickly, my hunger far from sated. Even more than food, I need to find water. My mouth is dry, my tongue feel fuzzy. Once the eggs are gone, I go back over to the tracks and continue to walk between them.

By the end of the day, I realize that the grayish blur to the east isn’t just low cloud cover. Are those mountains? The hazy shapes look much too angular to be hills. It must be a city. Maybe Kayeenis or Lavasa. Ideally I would keep following the tracks. My leg is too bad for that though. If I don’t get medicine soon the infection will set. Even then a good doctor could fix me, but not before I reach the Delphast.

“Evan will be alright for another day or two,” I tell myself out loud. I don’t entirely believe it, but the words are enough to force me off the tracks and towards the possible city.

The day after next I reach the outskirts of Lavasa. The green land in front of me, filled with farms and dotted with wooden houses, runs until it hits an iron fence. After that metal industrialization. erupts upward. I’ve never seen anything like it. The buildings are stark, square, uniform. They’re made of a light gray material, almost like stone. In the center is a gigantic silver dome, which is how I know the city is Lavasa. I read that the dome was one of the first metal structures built by men. It used to stand on its own. Now it is barely visible.

I stand at the edge of the farm land, unsure of what to do. Lavasa is the city closest to the Delphast. I’m nearer to the capital than I’d realized. I try to visualize the map of Kostos that is probably still hanging in the front of my schoolhouse. I’m probably four days away from the Delphast. It was smart of me to come here. My leg is not the only problem. I desperately need water. If only I had the money to buy the things I need. In my current state I’m not sure how to go about it. If I came across a village in the Forsyth I would have no problem with asking for help and knowing that I’d get it. I don’t know what city folk are like. I limp through the fields and hope that someone will take pity on me.