The guard takes my things and tucks them under his arm, and the moment we go into the next room, he dumps them on a table…next to five neat little piles of clothes and shoes, still waiting for their owners.

The knot in my throat feels huge.

He looks over at me and sees my gaze is fixed on the table. A look like shame crosses his face, and then he grabs my arm again. “Come on. Captain’s waiting.”

The guard leads me along through the warren of the Fort Dallas Militia barracks. The captain’s talking to one of his men near the door, both of them kitted out in old riot gear, including helmets and vests. They look at me as I arrive, and the captain nods slowly.

He’s staring at me a little too hard. It’s uncomfortable, so I try to make light of the moment by pretending to curtsy in my stupid shift dress. See? I’m not all bad. Sure, I may be a no-good thief, but I’ve got a sense of humor.

“Red hair,” is all the captain says. “That’s…interesting.”

Self-conscious, I run a hand through my messy snarls of hair. I guess I keep it pretty dirty. Not exactly like there’s a spa in Fort Dallas that I can lounge at all day and give myself makeovers. “Why does my hair color matter?” They did say I wasn’t going to be whoring for the soldiers. I hope that hasn’t changed.

Then I think of those five sets of clothing and shudder inwardly. Maybe I should hope it has changed.

“You’re right. It doesn’t matter.” The captain’s tone is curt. He nods at the man behind me. “Gear up and let’s go. We’re leaving.”

“Do I get gear?” I ask.

“No. But I do ask that you put your hood up.”

Lovely. “I’m sure it’ll be plenty of protection,” I say sarcastically, staring pointedly at his helmet. Fuck being nice to these jerks. “So where are we going?”

He gives me a thin smile. “To a place you’re very familiar with.”

Uh oh.

3

CLAUDIA

I’m not surprised when our small party—me and six armed militiamen, including the captain—head through the metal scrap barrier that surrounds Fort Dallas. I’m a little surprised they’re all toting automatic weapons, because those aren’t much good against dragons, and it’s kind of overkill for scavengers. But I guess they feel better with some sort of gun.

Everyone’s silent as we leave the city. Of course they are; it’s a death sentence. They’re watching me head to an invisible gallows in the heat of the day instead of sneaking away under the cover of night for a scavenge run. The heavy metal barrier creaks and groans as we pass through the gate, but after that, it’s just silence. Nothing but wind and quiet as we head out onto the littered landscape of the scavenge lands.

No one’s supposed to be out here. There are protected greenhouses in Fort Dallas, and a small herd of animals kept in the parking garages. We’re supposed to be self-sufficient, but everyone knows that’s a joke. Sometimes there’s a good herd of game animals passing through, or a few wild cows that wander too close, and people sneak out. There are hidden passages in the wall, car doors that aren’t welded shut and allow a person to snake through to the other side. Sometimes it’s not just game we’re after, since anything and everything sells on the black market.

I know this area. I know every crack in the pavement, the grass growing up through old sidewalks and the trees sprouting in storm drains. I’m one of the scavengers who sneaks through, because between me and Sasha and Amy, it’s hard to scrape together enough to eat. You have to scavenge. There’s no way around it. Not just for old canned goods that expired years ago, but for wild plants that look edible, for fruit that hasn’t been eaten to the pit by birds.

For shit to sell on the black market.

Maybe they’re taking me through the Scavenge Lands as a test? Maybe they’re going to see how familiar I am with the area and then loop back around to the city and to safety. If it is a test, I’m not interested in failing it. I feign a mildly interested look and follow the guards closely as we pick our way through the litter and leaf-covered streets of Old Dallas. Animal life teems on the once-populated streets. Cattle move through in herds, small feral cats dart in and out of old buildings, and there’s constant birdsong coming from the ruins. All the animals are a good sign—it means there are no dragons nearby. When the dragons roll through, the animals are scarce, the birds are non-existent, and the skies utterly silent. Today it’s noisy, and the sun is shining high in the sky. I could almost enjoy a day like this.

Except…no one’s talking. No one’s looking twice at the game or even showing interest in the junk we pass by. A scavenger would check everything, hunt even the smallest squirrel. These soldiers aren’t interested in any of that, which means I am in some serious deep doodoo. “So,” I say casually. “Where are we going?”

No one answers. I’m not surprised. Whatever is going on, I’m clearly going to be left in the dark.

“Oh really? There?” I say sarcastically, pretending I have an answer. “Why, that’s my favorite place. You guys are so thoughtful.”

The captain of the guard glances back at me, a pensive look on his face. He seems conflicted despite the fact that he’s the one that volunteered me. “Everything will be made clear shortly, prisoner.”

“Yippee,” I mutter. I glance around the half-fallen buildings around me, wondering why we’re heading farther into the heart of old downtown. Rumor has it that dragons are known to roost in the tallest of buildings. And where are the tallest buildings? Why, old downtown.

Even a desperate scavenger such as myself isn’t dumb enough to head there.

I grow more and more wary as we head deeper into downtown. The soldiers hug their weapons a bit closer and they watch the shadows. The ease of the day has given way to a silent tension that’s making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The only thing that’s saving me from totally losing my shit is the cheery birdsong that tells me we’re still dragon-free. Eventually, we come to a tall skyscraper with most of the windows broken out. It looks sad and decaying, and as we turn and head toward it, I see a jumble of broken wire and metal on the ground. A red Pegasus sign sticks out of the rubble. “Follow us,” the captain says to me, gesturing for the guards to go inside the building.