Branches lashed us as trees whipped past us in a blur. The raw bite wounds on my leg and arm burned, and I clamped my hands onto the saddle as if my life depended on it.

Mari had taken the reins: this was not a time for my amateur horsemanship.

Behind us the dirt bikes roared, crashing through the underbrush. Bursts of gunfire ripped through the air, but there was no snap of passing lead. The Sweepers were firing to scare us, or for their own amusement, but they didn’t have an angle on us. Not yet.

The engines grew louder, overtaking us, until they seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. Between the trees, I caught glimpses of the machines bounding over roots and crashing through bushes. They were surrounding us, herding us.

{Keep going this direction, no matter what,} I sent to both horse and rider.

“Watt?” Mari snapped. {Why?}

{They’re trying to drive us somewhere, like your Tribe did with deer. If we let them, we die.}

Her mind bled fear and doubt and anger and more fear. But she leaned forward in the saddle and urged her horse onward.

I readied the gun in one hand, tightening my grip on the saddle with the other. {Sorry. It might get loud.}

We burst out onto a small game trail. A bike was already in front of us, and Thunder almost smashed into it. The driver called out and swerved. His passenger twisted in the saddle, a submachine gun swaying in our direction.

A burst of gunfire ripped out of the gun, and the bullets slapped into the ground in front of Thunder. The horse squealed and tried to turn away.

{Keep straight,} I urged, and hoped Mari was doing the same. Thunder kept on the game trail, but he slowed, veering from side to side to avoid the spray of mud kicked up from bike’s rear tire.

The Sweeper waved his pistol at us, and I realized he had aimed to miss. They weren’t trying to kill us—they wanted us alive. I couldn’t think why, only that it probably wouldn’t be for a pleasant chat.

I raised my gun and fired a burst over the driver’s head, he flinched as if struck and twisted the bike up back into the trees, clearing our path.

{Faster!} I urged.

But already, the roar of another engine was gaining on us from behind.

I turned. A bike was tearing up the game trail on a collision course. This time the passenger held a long pole in their hands, a loop of cord dangling from the end.

I twisted around, bringing the gun to bear. It was impossible to aim one handed whilst bumping up and down on a horse, even if I had wanted to shoot to kill, but I sprayed bullets in their general direction until the gun went click. Again the driver swerved off into the protection of the trees. I let the gun hang limp in its sling, not trusting myself to reload it without falling off the horse.

We burst out onto the road again. Perhaps near where we’d left it, perhaps not—it was impossible to tell. Thunder began to gallop along it of his own accord.

{Where now?} Mari urged, but I didn’t have an answer. I had been making my decisions with the goal of surviving a few seconds at a time.

We could try to lose them in the park… but it was so hard to navigate, especially at speed. I didn’t know how to get to any of the few hiding spots I could think of, and we might ride Thunder straight into a ditch or get unhorsed by a sturdy branch. If we stayed on the road, we’d eventually get reach the bridge again and be back on familiar ground, but it’d be familiar for the Sweepers as well.

{Alan! Where now?}

{Stay on the road,} I sent. When you don’t have time to think. You cling to the familiar.

A vague plan began to form as we rode. If we could beat our pursuers to the bridge, we could dismount, reload, and make a stand. They’d be going too fast to spot the ambush, and the narrow confines of the bridge would make it impossible to swerve aside, unless they wanted to take a dip in the canal.

It could work, but we needed to get to the bridge with a decent head start, and a bike was a lot faster than a horse. The plan seemed even more implausible a second later, when one of the bikes ripped out of the trees and began gaining on us.

{Any chance you can do that thing again?} I asked. {Perhaps without knocking all of us out this time?}

{Tired. And I can’t control it anyway.}

{You might have to try.}

{You try,} she threw back at me.

I blinked. {What?}

{This morning. When you pushed against the Yellow Robe, it did something. You can do what I can do.}

I hadn’t forgotten, but my attack had only given Peter a moment’s pause. How could it possibly be of any use here? Then again, when riding a bike at high speed through a forest, a moment’s pause could be fatal.

I’d have to wait for them to close in though. I couldn’t hear thoughts from very far away, I didn’t think I could throw them very far either.

The bike got closer, closer, the Sweepers on the back jeering, the passenger waving his catchpole. When they were almost close enough to swing the thing at me, I focused on the driver. His mind was full of adrenaline and anticipation, but also fear.

{SWERVE!} I screamed the word from deep in my lungs as well as I lashed out with my mind. A chunk of my target’s consciousness scattered around the blow, like snow around a heavy boot, and in the real world his head snapped back. He wrenched the handlebars to one side, and the bike snaked off the road. Both riders screamed, wood snapped, metal buckled. I didn’t see what happened to them, but I didn’t like their chances.

My head felt heavy after a shout, the pain from my injuries sharper. The corners of my vision were dark and the beginnings of the hollow weariness of sleep deprivation tugged at me. But I managed to keep a grip on the saddle.

“It worked!” I gasped, elation pushing through my sudden fatigue.

Mari didn’t respond, but some of her dread began to dissipate.

The other two bikes were nowhere to be seen.

{I think we might have lost them,} I sent. {Keep going though.}

My heart jerked in alarm, but it was secondhand panic. Mari had seen something up ahead.

We’d reached the bridge, but so had the two remaining bikes. They were parked up sideways, blocking our way out of the park. The Sweepers had dismounted, guns and catch poles at the ready, using their bikes as a makeshift blockade.

They’d had the same idea as me.

Mari pulled on the reins, and Thunder skittered to a halt within shouting distance of the Sweepers. With the engines dead, there was finally a chance of us being able to hear each other.

“Give us the girl!” one shouted, his voice muffled inside his filter mask. He wracked the lever on the side of his gun. “Or we’ll fucking kill you.”

“Why do you want her?” I yelled back. I was stalling for thinking time, and I wanted to know.

They shared a look, which because of their armored masks required turning their entire heads. The one who’d shouted shrugged. “None of your business.”

“Um, fairly sure it is,” I said. But it sounded like they knew nothing of the intent behind their orders.

{They’re after you specifically. Any ideas?} I sent to Mari.

{I have… one.} Her mind was bouncing around like a rat in cage, her electric anxiety raking my mind.

{It doesn’t feel like you’re too confident about it.}

{I’m not.}

Something rumbled in the forest behind us. I feared the third bike had come back at first, but no. It was an engine, but lower and deeper, the dreadful thump of Sweeper music peeling out over the trees.

{You hear that?} I asked. {That’ll be the truck.}

She nodded. {Tell them we surrender.}

I began to object.

{Trust me.} She gently kicked Thunder into a canter.

“Um, I surrender,” I called. “Don’t shoot. I’m bringing her over now.”

“Get off the deer and walk her over,” the Sweeper shouted back.

“Sorry, the, erm, deer… sort of does its own thing sometimes.”

Mari leaned forward to whisper in Thunder’s ear. “Charge.”

{Wait. What?} I sent.

“Get off the deer or I’ll shoot it out from under you, last wa— what the fuck!”

{CHARGE!} Thunder’s simple equine mind roared, and he broke into a full gallop, right at the barricade.

“Oh no,” I uttered, clamping down hard on the saddle and trying to process the fact that I was about to die.

What happened next might seem implausible, so let’s take a step back for a second.

At this point, it’s important to remember that us city dwellers—the Sweepers and me—didn’t really know much about horses. We weren’t accustomed to what they could and couldn’t do. So when Thunder charged directly at their bikes, they braced for a collision, hurrying back a few steps and readying their catch poles to swing at us on the way past. Another thing to note, is that the Sweepers had been ordered to bring Mari in alive, which meant as long as Thunder was traveling at breakneck speeds, they couldn’t risk shooting him out from under her. I’ve already told you the sort of leader the Sweepers had, the type who ‘liquefies’ people for failures.

So, when the horse jumped over the bikes, the catch poles bouncing harmlessly from his flanks instead of wrapping around our necks, there was only one person who wasn’t surprised.

The saddle slammed into my rear, pitching me forward. I almost tumbled over Mari and onto the asphalt but managed to barely cling to her. My weight almost unhorsed us both, and her panic stabbed at me like a spear.

{What are you doing!}

{Sorry.} I righted myself, my stomach churning more with every jolt of the horse. {Take a right here.}

We’d barreled off the bridge and down a side street, hope beginning to bloom in both our minds.

{Now a left.}

We’d barely gotten the Sweepers out of view before the engines roared up again, and all that hope burnt away like dry paper.

We kept ahead of them for only a few minutes. The bikes were too fast, and the Sweepers knew this district just as well as I did, if not better. A sharp turn would keep us ahead for a moment, but they’d always manage to head us off or catch up to us.

{Tired,} Thunder complained, a hazy, sickly, fatigue radiating from him. I could relate.

We couldn’t keep up our flight forever, and we were all out of options.

{Please tell me you have a plan.} Mari’s thought was more prayer than question.

{Not a very good one,} I admitted, trying and failing to contain my dread within my own mind. {Next right. Left at the junction.}

{They’ll catch us on the straight.}

I reached down and drew the pistol from her holster. {I’ll buy us the time.}

{Time for what?}

I didn’t answer. More fear would only distract her.

Thunder weaved through the husks of ancient cars and long overgrown piles of rubble as the bikes gained on us. When the lead bike drew too close, I turned to fire at it. I can’t exaggerate how difficult it to fire a gun with one dog-bitten hand whilst bouncing up and down on a horse. None of my shots came close to connecting. I bought us a precious few seconds of reprieve though, as the bikes weaved around to avoid my erratic shots.

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The gun went click. The bikes closed, gaining on us until the hungry glee of their minds almost touched me. I thrust my mind at theirs— both drivers at the same time.

{Stop!}

I had no idea if the specific intent of the thought mattered, or if it was just the force that hurt, but the drivers flinched, the bikes wobbled, almost fell.

And then they straightened up and kept tearing after us.

The world lurched to one side as Thunder galloped around the intersection.

{Alan?} Mari gasped as she saw where I’d directed them.

{Keep going,} I urged.

{But that’s…}

{Keep. Going.}

Overgrown towers of crumbling concrete loomed ahead of us, across another bridge, wide enough for two cars.

To either side, the lampposts had been adorned with bouquets of skulls. Human skulls. Most with gaping holes in their foreheads, the breeze jostling the nests of barbed wire in which they were entangled.

A skull inside a crosshair had been sketched in big spidery strokes on a sign of white leather… or what I hoped was leather.

{But you said…}

Something about her hesitation drove me to wrath. {You want them to take you?}

Her mind flinched away from mine. As if I’d struck her.

Looking back, I still hate myself for that moment. Fear and desperation had turned me into a brute. A stupid brute.

To be fair to myself, in hindsight, charging headlong into Sniper Town was the best option I had. The Sweepers would have perforated me with lead as soon as they could so without a chance of hitting Mari, and if we’d kept the chase up much longer Thunder’s poor heart might have exploded. Besides, I’d met the occasional Loner who’d bragged about dashing or sneaking through the place before and living to tell the tale. There was a small chance they weren’t all lying.

In the moment, for the second time that day, I was sure I was about to die. My eyes were locked on the dark recesses of the tower blocks, searching desperately for the glint of a scope or the flash of a muzzle.

We crossed the bridge. All turnings had been blocked off, car hulls reinforced with wood, forcing us down one long, straight road right into the heart of Sniper Town. At the end of that street was one of the tallest buildings in the city. It must have had hundreds of windows, perhaps thousands, and in one of them a murderer with a very accurate rifle was likely taking aim at us.

“Weave,” I yelled, sending the thought to girl and horse both as well as screaming it in their ears. “Side to side.”

Mari jerked the reins, and Thunder bolted to the opposite side of the street.

I snapped my head back around and found only one of the bikes had followed, the other turning in a wide circle to tear back over the bridge. I scanned the sides of the street for a place to turn off or hide, but everything was boarded up too tightly. We’d have to dismount and spend minutes hacking away, and in that time…

Air snapped against my eardrums. A great thunderous gunshot echoed off the corridor of tall hard-shelled buildings. Mari and I cowered lower against Thunders back. Fear and shock burst out of all three of us, the feelings resonating with each other and growing overwhelmingly potent.

But there was no sudden bite of hot lead, no sudden oblivion. The sniper had missed.

Or so I thought. Until I glanced behind me.

The passenger of our remaining bike had lay crumbled in the street some distance back, completely still. His driver slowed, began to turn, clawing at ground clumsily with one booted foot in an attempt to get the bike around quicker.

Pink mist erupted from his chest as a second shot rang out. Bike and rider both slumped sideways into the street.

Mari weaved Thunder back and forth down the street, turning him erratically. I’d been holding my breath since the first shot rang out, my heart threatening to burst against my ribs. Any second now, one of us would be dead.

But the third shot didn’t come. I dared to hope we’d already passed the sniper’s nest, that we were safe. We almost reached the intersection, one last pile of cars and overgrowth to twist around, and we’d be out of the corridor of death.

Mari mind exploded in panic. She yanked on Thunder’s reins, bringing the beast to a skittering halt. It took me a moment to realize what she had reacted to. My blood ran cold once I did.

From the gloomy interior of a van, a bush stood up, sprouting arms and legs, and pointed a rifle at us. I finally let out that breath as a gasp.

The sniper was in spitting distance of us.

“Hooold it!” the bush said, keeping the barrel of its weapon locked onto Thunders head with mechanical precision. “Or I blow that thing out from under you.”

The voice was raspy, dry, and unmistakably female. Blue eyes glared at us from the depths of a filter mask, most entirely buried in the artificial foliage of the… bush suit the sniper was wearing. The rifle was perhaps the longest I’d seen, all brutal utilitarian gray, a bulky scope resting atop it. The barrel had been stained soot black with use.

“Do what she says,” I said slowly, speaking for the sniper’s benefit, thinking for Mari’s.

{I can kill her,} Mari thought, but she didn’t seem confident.

{Not from this distance, I reckon,} I replied… a little unnerved by how little hesitation she showed. {Just wait a moment. If she wanted us dead, we’d be dead.}

“Guns in the dirt,” the sniper said, flicking her head at the ground, “slowly.”

I complied. They were both empty anyway.

“Now, off the… the thing,” she said. “What is that? Some kind of dog?”

She was close enough that her consciousness brushed against mine. Swirling curiosity, spiky caution. But no fear. Not even a mote of fear.

“All right,” I said, slowly bringing a leg over the saddle to dismount. “All right. We’re getting down. Please don’t shoot. We mean you no harm.”

“Bah,” she said. “As if I’m worried about that.”

I helped Mari down, but the sniper maintained her overwatch from the back of the van. Now that I was down at ground level, it was apparent that she was very short. Our eyes were about level, despite her having a boost of at least two thirds of a meter.

“Now. You two are going to explain to me why the hell you’re charging into my home with a gaggle of Sweepers on your back.”

“Well, I don’t really know why they’re chasing us to be honest.”

Half true. They wanted the girl, but I didn’t know why.

“Bullshit,” the sniper rasped. “You, girl, why are they after you?”

“She doesn’t—”

The gun barrel swayed almost casually to point at my face. “Let her fucking speak.”

I dared not protest further.

Mari seemed to take a moment for a deep breath or a nervous swallow or something like that, and then she took a brave step forward.

{Don’t…} I began.

{Don’t try and stop me.}

“Aae waan eik. Eik… ay vitch,” she said.

Behind the sniper’s visor, a brow furrowed. It was a brow with a lot of age lines. More than Mother’s, at least.

“The hell did she say? Something about witches?”

“She doesn’t speak English. That’s what I was trying to tell you.” I was staring fixedly at the barrel of the rifle. “Look, we don’t mean to harm you, and we can’t stop you from taking what you want from us, so could you please just tell us what you want?”

“Who says I want anything from the likes of you?”

“You didn’t just shoot us in the head from very far away?”

“Ha. Fair enough. It’s like this: I have rules. One of them is I don’t kill kids.” She cocked her head as if deep in thought without moving the rifle. “Unless its self-defense.”

Part of me wanted to know how often that could possibly come up, but I knew I’d regret learning the answer to that particular question.

“So… you don’t want anything from us?”

“Oh, no. Well, yes, I do want your guns, your ammo, any food you have on you. Mainly though, I want to know why those bastards were chasing you.” She nodded her head at the guns near my feet. “Those don’t look like something homemade. You’ve killed at least one of them.”

“Um, probably more than that?” I looked to Mari for assistance. “Three or four, indirectly I think.”

“Good stuff,” the sniper said. “And after all that, you don’t know why they were willing to charge over my bridge to catch you?”

The truth seemed out of the question. This woman was willing to strip us of anything of value, admitting to her that one of us was, ourselves, very valuable to not one but two very large and powerful Tribes did not seem wise.

“They… wanted our horse, I think.” It was a weak lie but all I didn’t have infinite time to come up with something better. “It’s fast and it can carry a lot of things and there’s a lot of meat on there. Like a bike that doesn’t need fuel.”

From the depths of the visor, those blue eyes narrowed. “Hmm. Is that right?”

“It is,” I said, as confidently as I could.

“Bullshit,” the sniper said, “you’re bullshitting me.”

Beside me, Mari’s consciousness bristled. She began to move closer but had barely lifted one foot before the sniper snapped her rifle from my head to the girl’s. Mari froze mid step. “Ah ah, dear. I’m not so old I’ve forgotten how vicious little girls can be. Try that again, and I’ll shatter that pretty visor of yours.”

For a good while no one said anything. The sniper scrutinized us silently, scratching the side of her gun just above the trigger.

“Right,” she announced so sharply that I jumped. “You two are bullshitting me. But I reckon it’s because you’re scared shitless.”

She lowered the gun just a little, so it was aiming at Mari’s stomach rather than her face. “Let me clear the air a bit. I don’t have much love for the Sweepers, and they don’t have much love for me. That’s why I want to know what this whole… situation is about. Because A. There might be a shitload more trouble coming my way now, and I’d like some warning, and B. There might be an opportunity for me to mess with those bastards some more. So. You see, I’m thinking our interests might actually align here.”

{What was all that?} Mari asked.

{She claims to be an enemy of the Sweepers.}

{I don’t think she’s lying. I’d feel it.}

{That’s my impression too.}

{So do we tell her the truth?}

{I still don’t know the truth. Why are the Sweepers after you as well?}

“You two mute?” The sniper snapped. Her frown had deepened. “Speak.”

I stalled for time as Mari continued to think at me. “Right, of course, let me see…”

{I don’t know why the Sweepers are after me, but the Gold Robes want everyone who has gifts of some kind. Perhaps they got to the Sweepers somehow, made them their slaves. They do that sort of thing.}

“Okay,” I said, as the sniper’s rifle shifted back to pointing at my head. “They’re after me, but I think they’re working for someone else. There’s a new Tribe in the city, from far east, men in yellow robes. Have you seen them?”

The sniper gave a brisk nod. “Saw some pass by yesterday. Didn’t cross the bridge.”

“You noticed they weren’t wearing masks?”

“You know? I thought that was what I saw. Talked myself into not believing my eyes.”

“Right. Well, they’re some kind of monster people, all riddled with magic. They’re hunting me because they’re hunting all witches. I don’t know why they want me, but I doubt it’ll be pleasant. So, that’s why we were running, and I’m sorry for trespassing, but you saw for yourself we had no other options.”

Her mind turned around the information, absorbing it, and her frown began to relax just a little. “So, you’re a witch then, eh?”

“I’m not sure if that’s the right word really. But I have… gifts.”

“Go on then, prove it. Do some magic.”

I cast a nervous glance at Mari’s impenetrable visor, sharing the conversation with her. She gave a slow nod.

“As you wish.” I hesitated, then let out a nervous cough. “Would you mind, not pointing the gun at me for a second? I don’t want to startle you.”

Amusement sparkled in her mind, but her posture and expression remained still as stone. After a pause I realized she wasn’t going to budge.

I reached out with my mind, pushing a message into hers. It was far harder than it was when talking to Mari. Imagine writing a message on a blind person’s skin instead of just showing them it.

{Hello. I’m in your mind.}

Her eyes went wide, and her mind clenched up into a tight ball, retreating from the foreign invasion. She raised the rifle. “What the fuck?”

Mari flinched. I threw my empty hands higher. “You asked! You asked!”

“You been reading my mind, huh?” she demanded. “Is that what you do?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean, it doesn’t work like that. It’s complicated. Look, you asked for proof so I gave you proof.”

My groveling seemed to placate her a little, and her mind began to unfurl itself. “That I did, I guess. What about the girl, she a witch too?”

“No,” I said, perhaps too sharply. I had decided that if the sniper did betray us, it would be better for us to only think one of us was worth handing over to Sweepers.

“Hmm,” she said slowly, in a way that made it clear she might not fully believe me. “Say I do let you go. Where you off to?”

“I was going to see the Witch of the Weir. They might know what to do, and…” Something clicked into place for me as I spoke. The Sweepers might have chased us once they bumped into us, but they weren’t in the park looking for us, they were going somewhere. They were going in the same direction. “…they need warning about what’s going on.”

Something twitched in the sniper’s mind as I mentioned the witch, and her eyes flicked a hairsbreadth wider. “Aye. If someone’s rounding up witches, that one is the one everyone knows about.” The sniper drummed her fingers against the side of her gun. The corners of her eyes bunched into lines as she squinted at us.

Then, she shrugged. “All right. Let’s get you two idiots to the weir.”

Mari and I looked at each other. I couldn’t read the girl’s expression through her black visor, but it must have been a match for own disbelieving frown.

“Really?” I asked the sniper.

“Course. If the Sweepers want you, then I don’t want them to get you, and I owe the witch a favor or two, so if you’re on your way to warn them, like you say, then I’m inclined to make sure that happens.”

“Oh, erm, thank you.”

The sniper waved away my thanks. “They’ll be a price of course. Your guns and ammo. For my trouble and my peace of mind. Don’t want to get myself shot in the back, you see.”

“I see,” I said slowly, trying to buy myself some thinking time. From what I could read from the sniper, I didn’t think she was deceiving us, but I also wasn’t very experienced in using my gift to detect lies… or using it on humans much in general.

{What’s happening?} Mari asked.

{She wants our guns, but she’s offered to escort us to the witch.}

{I don’t trust her.}

{You’d be a fool if you did, but it’s not like we’re entirely defenseless without the guns.}

{It could be a trick.}

{You saw all the skulls on bridge. Why would she bother?}

{Perhaps she wants us alive to sell to the Gold Robes.}

{She didn’t know about the Gold Robes until just now.}

{So she says.}

{I didn’t sense any surprise from her.}

“What’s with you?” the sniper said. “You high? Because you two keep spacing out.”

I should clarify that speaking via thought alone is a lot faster than talking out loud. But still, in this case it had been a good ten seconds since I’d trailed off awkwardly.

“Sorry. I…” I began, then sent a quick thought to Mari. {I’m going to say yes.}

She didn’t respond.

{Is that all right?}

{Fine,} she snapped.

“…we accept your offer.” I tentatively lowered my hands.

The sniper’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “Knew you seemed like the reasonable sort.”

She hopped down from the back of the van and, despite keeping the gun trained on us, suddenly seemed a lot less threatening. The sniper had a very diminutive stature. She was a few centimeters shorter than Mari despite her obvious… seasoning.

Stupid, really, that the animal part of our brains still wants to assess threats based on bulk and height, when firearms exist. But I couldn’t help myself from relaxing a little once I was looking down at her.

“Right, first things first, I’m taking that bike. You two can keep your… horse, was it?”

I nodded.

“Your horse to yourselves. Just got to do a little house keeping before—”

She cut off suddenly, and a moment later I heard the same thing she had.

As we’d been talking, the persistent roar of the surviving bike’s engine had grown faint, distorted into an otherworldly wail by distance and reverberation. Perhaps we’d all gotten used to the noise, pushed it to the back of our perception. Perhaps that was why it took as long as it did for us to notice the noises multiplication. At some point a second, third, maybe a fourth voice had joined that chorus. These fuller and deeper. Whatever the new composition, the choir was getting louder by the second now.

Whatever aether thoughts swim around in flooded with ice cold dread.

“It wasn’t just two bikes after you, was it?” The sniper was already moving past us.

“No,” I said. “There’s a truck and maybe a third bike and a sort-of… big metal man?”

The sniper stopped in her tracks and whirled around, the green-grey tassels of her bush-suit whipping out like long fur. “You didn’t think to mention that?”

“Hey,” I snapped, raising my voice, “until five seconds ago you were waving a gun in our faces.”

The glare she gave me was so intense I almost looked away. For a moment, I thought she was going to shoot me after all.

“Fucking hell,” she said instead, and turned to jog back towards the bike. “Fuck, fuck, fuck it. Fucking Metalhead’s barreling down and dipshit doesn’t think to…”

Soon she was too far away to hear her curses, but I’m sure she kept spouting them all the way to the bike.

{I think it’s time to mount up,} I said and turned to find Mari already sliding her spare magazine into her pistol. It was a good idea. I doubted the sniper had forgotten our deal but given the new situation I didn’t think she’d begrudge us re-arming ourselves.

Mari nodded and set about getting Thunder ready whilst I scooped up the submachine gun and swapped out its magazine for a fresh one. Once we were back in the saddle, we waited for the sniper. It might have been rude to just ride off, and I thought her response to rudeness might have been small in diameter and high in velocity.

She roared up on the dirt bike a moment later, handling it as confidently as she had the rifle. Clearly it wasn’t her first time.

“You got a filter tent? How much food you got?” she shouted over the rumbling machine.

“Yes… and a few days’ worth.”

With a nod, she grunted in the affirmative. “That’ll have to do. No time to fetch my own stuff thanks to you.”

The accusation in her tone was hard to miss, but I pretended I’d done exactly that. “I assume you’re taking point?”

“Yeah.” She twisted the throttle, letting the engine scream freely. Despite her fear, a tiny jolt of electric delight hummed through her mind. “Yeah. I think I’m taking point.”