You got a help us git away, I whisper. Please.

I can’t. I don’t dare. If you try to get away, she’l kil you. That’s what she did to the last one. She sees everything. She—

Miz Pinch notices what he’s up to. What’s goin on over there? I hope you ain’t talkin to them girls, Rooster.

No! Of course not! Wouldn’t dream of it!

You bet er not be. An if I find out yer lyin to me, you know what’l happen, don’t you? I’l give you the burn. How’d you like that?

I wouldn’t, my treasure, he says.

Then git on with the feedin an be quick about it.

He hurries to finish with Emmi, then moves over to me. Whaddya mean, she kil ed the last one, I whisper. What last one?

He don’t reply. I try to make him catch my eye, but he won’t, he jest stares down at the bowl. His face is shiny with sweat an the spoon trembles in his hand. Fer the rst time, I notice his hands an wrists is covered al over with ugly purple burn scars. Like somebody’s gone at

’em with a hot poker.

So that’s what she means when she says she’l give him the burn. That’s what she does when he crosses her. He ain’t gonna help us. He’s too terrified.

We’re on our own.

An I feel calm.

It seems crazy, seein how we’re both chained hand an foot an there ain’t a soul to help us, but I’m calm. Because now I see what I got a do.

An what I ain’t got a do, which is waste time thinkin that anybody’s gonna help us. That somebody’s gonna come along an rescue us. I cain’t count on nobody but me.

So what I got a do now is watch. An learn. An think. An plan. I’m gonna make sure we stay alive, Emmi an me. I’l do whatever it takes.

I’l do what the hel hag tel s me.

But I’l be watchin an waitin. An when the time comes, when it’s the right moment to make a move, I’l be ready. I’l know what to do an I’l git us out a here.

Then we’l go find Lugh. I promised him I would. An I ain’t no quit er. No mat er what.

Miz Pinch comes towards me. She’s got a knife. She reaches out an I cower back aginst the wal . She grabs the back of my neck in a tight grip. I feed you, water you an then I slit yer throat, she says. I know that’s what yer thinkin. Huh. No such luck.

She grabs hold of my long braid an gives it a sharp twist, bringin my head down. I wince as pain shoots along my scalp. She saws at the top of the braid with her knife an pret y soon she’s cut it of . She holds it up.

That’s a fine tail of hair, she says. Should fetch a good price.

Then she brings over a basin of hot water, a bar of soap an a straight razor. Without sayin a word, she throws the water over my head, soakin me. She rubs the soap over my head. It runs down into my eyes, makes ’em sting an water. I don’t make a peep. I look at Emmi, give her a lit le smile to tel her not to worry.

Then I stare straight ahead. Once she’s got me soaped to her likin, she takes the razor an starts shavin o my hair. Clumps drop onto the floor with a wet plop.

You don’t want hair fer the Cage, she says. A smart ghter shaves their head. You don’t wanna give yer opponent nuthin to hang onto.

Whatever you do, don’t let ’em git hold of yer ears. They’l rip a ear o a yer head before you know it. Cage ghtin ain’t ezzackly what you’d cal clean.

Jest then, I notice what she’s got around her neck. My heartstone. The pink heartstone that my mother gave to Mercy. That Mercy gave to me. She must of gone through my stuf an took what she wanted.

I hiss in a breath. My heart leaps into my throat. I wanna rip it from around her neck. Claw her face to pieces fer darin to even touch it. I twist myself out a her grasp. Gimme that back! I says.

She jumps back, al startled. Then she sees what I’m lookin at. Stretches her mouth into a mean, thin lipped smile. Oh, she says, I see yer admirin my new necklace. I found it lyin around. Ain’t it amazin how careless people is with their valuables?

I glare hate at her. Pul on my chains, my fists clenched.

Careful now, beauty, she says. She lifts the razor in her hand an looks over at Emmi.

I slump back.

She reaches out. Grabs my hair. Then she goes on shavin my head til I ain’t gone none left. Til I’m completely bald.

They set Emmi free an put her to work, scrubbin the oor, haulin water an washin the dishes an pots. Al the dirty work they don’t wanna do theirselves.

An jest to make sure I unnerstand the way things is, that she means what she says, Miz Pinch hits Em when she catches her speakin to me or when she don’t move quick enough. Hits her over the head, pinches her on the arm. Once, she sticks out her foot an trips her while she’s carryin a bucket of water an then she hits her when it spil s.

Em jest picks herself up an keeps workin. She don’t make a sound.

Neether do I. But my hands curl into fists an my nails dig into my palms so hard that they bleed.

We travel with the wind. Stoppin when it rests, movin when it blows. But it rests more’n it blows. I only git glimpses of daylight or moonlight when the Pinches come an go out a the cabin. I ain’t got a clue how many days have passed an nor does Em. Feels like we’ve bin here ferever.

here ferever.

Emmi’s face gits more pinched an pale. An she weeps silently at night.

They feed me al the best food. They want me to be strong.

I spend my time sit in on my bunk. I’m shackled hand an foot an chained to the wal fer good measure. Miz Pinch sets me free three times a day to stretch my arms an legs, but only inside the hut. While I do, she holds a knife to Emmi’s throat.

But not jest any knife. My knife. The one I keep shoved down inside my boot sheath. The one she took o a me. Miz Pinch smiles, tauntin me, provokin me. Go on, that smile says, jest try it. Try it an see what happens. She’d like that. To hurt Em with my knife.

So I’m free but I cain’t do a thing.

I don’t let my face show what I’m thinkin. Don’t let her see the hate that burns in my heart. The rage that gnaws at my gut. I keep my face blank.

I watch her. I watch him.

I wait fer the right moment.

If the wind blows us fair, tomorrow we’l be in Hopetown.

HOPETOWN

ROOSTER PINCH THROWS ANCHOR ON THE DESERT SWAN jest outside Hopetown.

Miz Pinch unties me an jerks her head.

I fol ow her, shu in onto deck in my ankle an wrist chains. I stand there, blinkin in the bright daylight. I feel dazed. I ain’t bin outside the dark cramped hut since they snatched us. Must be five, six days ago now. I squint at the sun. High noon.

Hopetown spreads out in front of us, half a league away. It squats at the foot of a dusty hil an straggles up its slopes. I ain’t never seen more’n one shanty at a time before. Heard tel of how Wreckers lived, al crammed close together in cities an towns, but never thought I’d see such a place.

An it never crossed my mind that if I did see such a place, it wouldn’t be nuthin more’n a heap of ramshack shanties leanin one aginst th’other. It looks like the whole lot ’ud come tumblin down if you gave one a good kick.

What a fine sight! says Pinch. Nothing like the hurly burly of city life to gladden the heart!

There’s commotion al around us. Folks rat le past the Swan in clouds of dust, in carts pul ed by erce-lookin wolfdogs, on horseback, by mule an camel, on foot. They ow in an out a a big gate in the junk palisade that runs al around Hopetown. I ain’t never seen so many people before in my life. I look this way an that, tryin to take it al in.