Dawn arrived overcast with the rusted hue of rising smoke and the ominous absence of birds and dogs yapping up the road, and not a single rooster crowing or cow lowing from the nearby farms. The once blue and clear sky was now sepia brown and thick, and the town had gone from few to abandoned overnight, casting an eerie silence where once it was almost lively. I tried not to breathe too deeply when I stepped out onto the porch and tried my best to peer through the morning, only to find the sun blotted out by the smoke, which had worsened by the day since it first rolled in. I knew the smell of wood-burning, of campfires, and I’d become well acquainted with the pungent scent of abandoned houses catching fire, too. The smoke that filled and choked the air didn’t resemble any of those. My face contorted as the sharpness of burned... everything prickled my nose and throat. Nothing smelled like this.

“Don’t make that face,” Milo said as I returned to the kitchen and pulled the porch door shut, my face scrunched with disgust. He heaved a backpack onto the table with a heavy thud, then dropped another beside it. Water bottles he had filled the day before, warning that fires this big had a way of contaminating fresh springs and making it too dangerous to drink from without getting sick, dangled from the straps by zip ties. It wasn’t practical if we ran out and needed a drink, but Milo knew a lot about surviving on his own and Tristan was adamant that we take extra precautions with our supplies. Clean water was worth more than gold in some places. Milo unzipped the first pack and peered in, satisfied with what I'd packed from the list he'd given me the night before. “This has all the first aid supplies, money, and most of the toiletries.” His eyes met mine. “You’ll carry it. It’s lighter.”

“I can carry the heavier one.” I went for the strap of the unopened pack.

“You can, but you’re not going to.” He yanked the bag out of reach, slung it over his shoulder, and hooked the other arm in. With a steadying roll of his back, he shifted the weight and glared at me as if it were my fault it was so heavy in the first place. “We can’t afford to make stops, and if I have to carry both packs and you, we’re as good as dead.”

I frowned. “So, what happens when you get tired? I can’t carry you.”

“I won’t.” He crossed the room to the old roll-top desk and snatched a handful of papers from the top shelf. He returned to the second pack perched on the table and crammed them in, zipping it shut, muttering, “There, if something happens, now you have a couple of extra maps.”

“What?” I gasped. “What the hell does that mean? You think I’m going to leave you behind?”

He didn’t answer.

“Milo.” I caught his arm at the elbow. He turned away, jerking his arm from my hand. I stepped closer, scouring his face for an explanation I couldn’t find. “Milo!”

“Stop it,” he breathed, pained and bitter. I curled away. I hated when he was so cold, and knew better than to push him. He'd seen more than I could imagine, and the threat of the fires coming across the farms and fields to the north had had him on edge for days. His jaw tightened, and he flexed his fists at his sides. He shut his eyes; his brows crumpled down as he tried to ground himself and focus on the here and now instead of all the could-be and worst-case scenarios, but it was no use. We had to be ready for the worst and hope for the best. “If something happens… don’t wait for me. Don’t go back for me, Ash.”

“I can’t do that! You know I can’t do that.”

Milo’s head whipped around, and his eyes quivered. Lingering beyond those gentle green hues was a sorrow he never shared of the days he’d sooner forget. His nostrils flared, and the corners of his eyes turned pink and watery more from an angry frustration than any real sadness for days past. “Can’t you swallow your damn pride for once?”

I did. Swallowing hard, I choked it down and said nothing.

Satisfied with my silence, he scanned the messy table covered in empty tin cans from breakfast, crumpled papers and pencils we weren't bringing with us, scraps of twine from binding supplies, and the last-minute rejections from the packs, which were mostly clothes we couldn't afford to bring because they took up too much space. He ran a hand over his face and shifted his weight from one side to the other, his breaths coming as quick and short as his temper. He nodded and turned on his toes. “Let’s go, Ash.”

***

We didn’t say another word to each other as we left the house. I stopped to lock the door but then thought better of it. My hand fell from the knob, and behind my eyes stung. The smoke irritated every membrane from my eyes to my nose and poured down my throat, the stench of it congesting my lungs, burning my chest, and strangling my hope of catching my breath with every inhale. A heavy pit fell through me. I hesitated at the door, unable to step away. My fingertips traced over the dark oak in a quiet, humble goodbye. We would not be returning, and after we were gone, there would be nothing left of this place. This had been my home. This was where I had lived. I glanced over my shoulder, turning from the house reluctantly to find Milo waiting for me. He didn't bother to look my way, instead focusing on the road ahead leading out of town. I wondered if he felt this way when he left his home. I wondered if there was time for him to say goodbye, too. When I came back around, I decided Milo was right: it didn't matter. The past was gone, so was his home, and mine would be too soon enough, and whether or not either of us had any sort of goodbye didn't change anything. My hand lowered from the door, and I hustled down the porch steps and onto the walkway. Milo’s tight smile was brief and fleeting, meant only as a courtesy for my quickness. He took the lead as we walked along the side of the street. I wanted to look back. Every bit of me yearned to turn back to see the house one last time, but I didn’t. I kept my focus on the road ahead because, no matter how much I hated it, there was no going back, and that house was no longer home. And in a way, I wondered if it had ever been home when we would inevitably have to leave because the Razen had ventured too close.

At the bottom of the hill after the street tapered off, there was a sharp bend, and beyond that were trees and a creek. For the most part, the creek was still clean enough to drink in the shallow places. On hot summer days, the water was warm, and wading out to my knees didn’t bother me so long as the creek wasn't infested with frogs. The frogs themselves didn't bother me, but there was something about them I didn't like. What that something was, I couldn't remember, but I was sure there was something. If I waded any deeper, the water chilled, and the cold was like needles against my skin. Not even the fish liked it and stuck to the shallows. As my thoughts wandered, my pace slowed and Milo managed to keep a few steps ahead where I had to hurry to catch up. It was midday by the time we made it to the shelter of the trees where the creek broadened, but it looked like dusk; the sunlight struggled to cut through the dense smoke as it raced after us. Why did it have to smell like that—scalding and sour, somewhere between a campfire and noxious fumes from a burn barrel behind the mill, and yet somehow meaty... fleshy? That heavy plume of the malodorous smoke cloud reeked and left a thick, caked rusty layer of fine, ashen debris everywhere and stained my mouth with that inescapable taste. I tugged the collar of my shirt up and covered my face to keep it out. It was the fetor of death.

As we climbed the steep side of a hill, every breath I took was more strained than the last. The weight of the bag hanging from my shoulders was finally slowing me down more than my thoughts did. I braced myself against a tree and sucked in the burning, filthy air with a strained wheeze. It stung with each gulp and filled my lungs like putrid mud. Wiping away sticky sweat from my forehead and pushing back the strands of hair clinging to it, I stared up the hill too tired to start my march again. I took a moment longer than I would have liked to convince myself to keep moving and push my reluctant body toward another hill waiting on the other side. Tackiness from the pungent air coated my tongue. It was horrible and rancid. My chest rose and fell, slower than before. As we neared the next peak, I stopped for another quick breath, but it was as miserable as the last. I winced and pushed off the tree. My legs were sore and ached with each step. As much as I wanted a break, Sussen was still hours away. Stopping now was not an option. It didn’t matter what excuse I conjured, none were good enough, and Milo would continue to ignore my complaints, as he had for hours, as he usually did. We had to press on. We had to keep ahead of the Razen.

Milo’s pace slowed at the top of the hill as I struggled several feet behind, my legs burning in frustration for the arduous climb. I craned my neck back, resting a hand on a tree to stare up at him and why he'd stopped right at the crest of the hill. His jaw fell slack and his lips parted, his face aglow in brilliant yellow and orange hues, bringing out the red undertone of his hair. His gaze focused far beyond me and where we stood on the hill. All the warm, sun-kissed colors from his face drained despite the illumination. Milo stood still and straightened, and I was sure he wasn’t breathing. His eyes widened and the glossy whites reflected the bright fires behind us. My breath caught in a tight ball in my chest. I turned. An icy thrill surged through my veins. I had never imagined the flames would be so big or roar quite so loud—and I had foolishly mistaken that roar to be blood rushing through my ears and fatigue buzzing in cacophonous static, but it had been neither; it was worse. The blazing waves of red, orange, and yellow licked the sky and howled like angry beasts. The billows of black smoke twisted and rolled into the murky haze where clouds should have been.

My mouth fell open, the gape pulling my dry lips taut. “That’s a lot of fire.”

“Keep moving.”

Milo’s hand grasped my shoulder and tugged me back, bringing me toward the crest of the hill with him. I stared up at him, wondering why he'd bothered to come back and jerk me into attention when he could have demanded I move forward as he blazed on, but his focus had locked onto the inferno like an old friend; or worse, an old enemy he'd thought he'd outrun. He bit down hard, clenching his teeth and jaw so tight I almost felt the tension trembling in his muscles. His chest rose and fell in short, fast pants. His hand on my shoulder tightened, and the chill in my veins froze me in place. The look on Milo’s face sent a violent wave of awe rolling through me. I'd never seen him look that way before, wholly panic-stricken and full of rage. The heat from the flames prickled my cheeks and the passion of an angry god blazed before us.

Milo dropped his hold on me. “Keep moving,” he rasped. Turning from the hell scene, his head swung from side to side, and he made a pitiful sound. It was neither a humorous scoff nor the snarky sneer I’d become accustomed to hearing. No, it was a choke, a strangled whimper that would give way to a desperate cry if left unchecked.

I looked again at the raging blaze and understood. It felt like a dark, distant dream that I knew too well. Milo told me how the Razen incinerated everything, and he'd escaped them once. He knew the torments they brought and the ruins they left in their wake, but witnessing what all that meant was far worse than his warning words alone. Even at this distance, there was no doubt in my mind—there was nothing left. Nothing. They slaughtered everyone and scorched the land. I tore my gaze away, shoving back any nightmarish thoughts of what he'd endured, and proceeded quick on my feet to catch up before he got too far ahead. My heart pounded against my chest as we continued, stifled only by the thinning of clean air. By the time I reached the top of the next hill, Milo was farther down the other side than I expected. Racing down the slope, I bounced against a tree. Then another. And then another still. My palms stung as the bark cut into them, over and over again. I was moving too fast, but I wouldn’t let him leave me for dead. The Razen loomed closer than I had realized. Milo knew they were moving in for weeks. I thought we should have left then, fleeing to safety with more than half the town, but Milo insisted we stay and wait. He said we had to wait as long as possible. If we went too soon and left with everyone else, then we wouldn’t survive long. He claimed the Razen watched for the larger groups escaping together and hunted them down and killed them en masse, vicious in their mercilessness. They took no prisoners and left no survivors. Charred bones and the cold embers of scorched wasteland were all that remained.

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I cringed as I hurled myself off another tree and skipped once the slope eased nearer the base of the hill. I kept my eyes on my footing as I floundered to gain traction against the loose dirt. Sliding a few steps too many, I slammed into Milo’s back. He stumbled forward with a grunt, and my hands latched onto the sides of his pack. Milo looked over his shoulder at me, surprised by my fumbling. I didn’t know why he would be, after all the times he’d scolded me to be more careful, and then I wasn't and he had to bandage me up and give me a lecture about staying safe and not running headlong into danger—not that I ever listened. I heard him, but he thought everything was dangerous. It wasn't, and I could handle myself. Most of the time, anyway. I huffed, pushing away from him and dusting off. He turned back around, not bothering to acknowledge my recklessness this time.

“Careful,” a strange, gruff voice said, catching my attention. “You don’t want to go down these hills too fast. That’s how you end up getting hurt. Right, Charon?”

"Funny." There wasn’t a trace of humor in the other man’s voice.

“Come on, lighten up. How hard is it to have a little bit of humor?”

“Well, Alin, when it’s at my expense, it’s hard,” he chided.

I leaned around Milo. The one man shook his head with a half-cocked smile, and I figured this was Alin, with the way he disregarded the other man’s poor disposition. A hatchet hung fastened to his belt, and a large hammer dangled from a leather sling on the opposite side. His hands, blackened with dirt and soot, rested at his waist. The other, I assumed was Charon, was tall and slender. He wrung his wrist and scowled at the crackling of the joint with each rotation. Bloodied scratches and smears of dirt trailed up the backs of his hands to his elbows. They were already red and swollen along the edges. The cuts and debris along the left side of his face were fresh, too. Charon lifted his eyes and met mine. His mouth opened to say something, but Alin interrupted before he had the chance.

“Don’t mind him. His bark is worse than his bite.” He chortled and clapped a heavy hand on Charon’s narrow shoulder. “What brings you two this far out in the hills?”

Milo answered, “The Razen.” He motioned with his chin. “They’ve reached Ternbrick.”

“Ternbrick? Already?” Alin frowned. He ran his hand over his face and glanced down along the winding valley. “Damn, I thought we’d have more time.”

“We have time,” Charon said, portraying the epitome of calm. His slate-blue eyes jumped between Milo and me, tightening as he scrutinized us. “Are you two from Ternbrick?”

“No,” Milo said, “but we were close enough to know that we had to leave.”

Charon’s critical stare stayed on us, though he said nothing more.

Alin hauled his belt up, jangling the tools attached to it. He cleared his throat. “Then I guess we don’t have much of a choice. Time to move on.”

“Where are you headed?” Charon’s cold, pale eyes fixed on me.

“Sussen,” I blurted, startling Milo as much as myself.

Charon blinked and shifted his attention to Alin. “We’ll have plenty of extra space in the wagon. We could give them a ride.”

“And go to Sussen?” Alin’s lip curled back in disgust. “I don’t think so.”

“We could pay you,” I offered. The ache in my legs and the burning of my hands outweighed my concern for money. Milo needed a break, too. He wouldn’t acknowledge it, but it was true. The sweat beading along his temple was proof enough. He shot me a small, subtle glance of objection. I rolled my eyes and stepped forward, meeting at his side and rubbing my thumb over my raw palm. “You don’t have to take us into Sussen. You can drop us off nearby. We’ll pay for that much.”

Alin gnawed his lower lip and sucked his teeth. He bounced his head from side to side, mulling over his options. “Alright. Look, we could use the help to load up. Help us with that and you can consider the ride paid for. We’ll drop you off east of Sussen. Do we have a deal?”

“East?” Charon’s brow raised.

“We’re not stopping in Sussen.” Alin’s words were firm, matching his stern gaze.

Charon folded his arms over his chest and spoke through clenched teeth as if they'd had this discussion too many times before. “Ternbrick is northwest—"

“I don’t give a damn where the Razen army is, Sussen is an overcrowded sitting duck. They’re attracting too much attention. It’s a matter of time before they either implode or those hell beasts out there come for them,” Alin said.

“They might be an obvious target, but they have supplies,” Milo interjected. “We’re meeting a friend there who can get us passes into the city. There are not a lot of other places to go where you can get them. And there’s a train from Sussen to the Underground.”

A train? Passes? This was the first I’d heard of it. When was that decided? Sure, Tristan and Milo met the night before, but all they did was stand outside on the porch, talking for hours, lamenting about how there weren’t enough horses for Milo and me, how it would take us three times longer by foot than for him and his family by horse. I cleaned up our meager dinner and worked on finding everything on the list Milo made for me with the itching feeling it was meant more for a distraction than it was for necessity. The list, as it was, was an inventory of supplies for our backpacks in the morning. At the time, I knew their meeting was about traveling to Sussen and then to the city. I didn’t care about the fine details and figured they were planning where and how to meet up later. Sure, I overheard bits and pieces and caught glimpses of letters and papers shuffled between them, but I didn’t think anything of it any more than the number of maps to cram into our rucksacks. All the while I was running around the house, they talked about different routes and how long it would take to make it through the hills. At one point, Tristan mentioned how the Razen weren’t the only dangerous thing out there. Milo had quickly agreed, and I thought they were both worrying too much about things they couldn’t change. Still, as my face scrunched up at Milo, I couldn’t make heads or tails of when they’d made plans for a train. I’d never even seen one in operation as far as I could remember.

“Why is she staring at you like that?” Charon asked, interrupting my racing thoughts.

“What?” Milo looked back at me, gave an exasperated sigh, and then turned back around. “It’s nothing. She always looks like that.”

“Confused?” The corners of his lips turned up in a faint smirk. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you kidnapped her.”

“Come on,” Alin slapped a heavy hand against his back, knocking him forward and nearly off balance. “Kidnapped? She’s scared! And who wouldn’t be? With that fire raging like it’s been, finding clean water is almost as hard as finding clean air at this point. Right, Mitchell?”

“Milo,” he corrected.

Alin waved a hand. “The fact is: I wouldn't go to Sussen when there are better choices farther south, not even for all the supplies in the world at this point. Or sales,” he nudged Charon with a hearty smile and a low chuckle. “They have a target on them, the perfect place for the Razen to make another example of, and I don't want to be in the middle of that again. Besides, I have to follow the demand of people who actually want to live if I’m going to unload all my supplies—lighten my load. They need swords, knives, daggers—fighting materials—not the cozy comforts of squatting in some barricaded town with walls asking to come down. You’ll live longer if you’re willing to put up a good fight, if you ask me, and that's not just because I'm selling the weapons you need.”

“Or die faster if you don’t know what you’re doing,” Charon said with a shrug of indifference.

“Such a pessimist when you don't get your morning coffee,” Alin shook his head. “Like I said, we can drop you off east of Sussen if you’re willing to do a little work for the ride. Who knows, you might get there early and have to wait for the train you’re looking to catch.”

“The passes are good until you use them,” Milo said firmly, his jaw chewing in a circle of impatience as the fires crept closer by the second.

“What train, Milo?” I hissed, leaning close to his side and tugging at his sleeve, earning only a knock back from his elbow. Why didn’t he ever tell me what he was planning, as if it were some secret I wasn't meant to know about? He didn’t trust me. I knew that, and it was for a good reason. Every time he relied on me to keep my mouth shut about how much money we had when we went to get food, or hold a job for more than a few days, I failed him. My zealousness ran away with me, and before we knew it, we were flat-broke and hungry again. Maybe that was why he didn’t tell me about the train.

“So, do we have a deal, Max?” Alin held out his hand.

Milo looked down at his open palm, his face screwing in thought about whether or not it was worth it to correct him again. With a deep, labored sigh, he took his hand and shook. “Sure, we’ll help you pack up for the ride.”

“And we’ll take you straight into Sussen,” Charon added coyly, though his gaze slid from Milo to me, and his head cocked as if both fascinated and dangerously curious about why I was clinging to Milo like a lost child.

“We’re not going to Sussen!” Alin boomed, turning to his companion, his cheeks rosy with frustration.

He and Charon continued arguing about where they were going after passing Sussen, and whether or not they’d stop there at all. Charon was sure they would, and should, and Alin was dead set they wouldn't, no matter what potential anyone claimed it had on the basis of being an easy target and he didn’t want to be in the middle of the madness when it inevitably descended. Milo remained stiff beside me, and I found myself transfixed on Charon. There was something about him that drew me in. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he was out of place somehow. I watched his deathly-still gaze as he debated the merits of passing or staying in Sussen, like a snake luring its prey into its nest. However, he was no snake, if anything, he was a man built to give off an intimidating air. Charon was notably taller than Milo, who already towered over me. His whole form was slim, and he had sharp, broad shoulders, giving his upper body a triangular shape. Though he wasn’t gaunt, his face was tight and angular, and his tired eyes were like those of a man too busy to sleep, who’d seen lifetimes and yet they were little more than distant dreams. He kept his pale ashy blond hair swept to the side and tucked behind his ear. Still, there was something about him that was peculiar, as if he didn’t fit. Unlike Alin, his hands were spotless, as though he’d never worked a day in his life. His loose-fitted shirt was neat and unwrinkled. Even his pants had straight pressed lines. With a dramatic and dismissive wave of his hand, the muscles of his forearms flexed, then relaxed as he folded it over the other arm again, settling on his opinion. He remained unwavering, despite anyone else’s input.

Milo watched Charon with the same careful caution that I did, and that made me uneasy. Normally, he was the sort of person who was comfortable making small talk with anyone. He became fast friends with Tristan and the dozen or more people who stayed in town for as long as we did. Every part of him, though, was tense as he stared—glared—in Charon’s direction. The fine hairs on the back of my arms stood on end. It was like staring into the mouth of a swarming viper's den, waiting to see if we’d get pushed in.

“We’ll get you to Sussen,” Charon declared at last. “You don’t want to be out after dark, anyway. There are wolves, and they’re hungry.”