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Their warming spells performed admirably, not waning until lunch. Everyone made an effort to forage. Timmons returned with berries that no one could identify. Cora had managed to find a handful of rootstalks. She passed them out, and everyone chewed as they trudged on.

“Getting more nutrients stuck in my teeth than in my stomach,” Timmons complained.

The elevation did provide some small sense of safety. The paths were tightening and the trees grew sparse. Great rocks punched out of the earth, providing footing and leverage. Down in the valley there had been shadows and places to hide. It had felt like Clyde—or another predator—might attack from any direction at any time. Up here there were only a few paths by which they could be pursued. If Clyde came, they’d see him well before he arrived.

Camp that night required a bit more searching for firewood. They built the fire higher than normal so that Cora could roast the rabbits. She set a few more traps, then carved up both animals. Everyone looked spent, and tomorrow would only require more from them. After rations were passed around and the night’s watch settled, Ren fell into an exhausted and fitful sleep.

* * *

She maneuvered through a small market in the Merchant Quarter. She had her father’s lunch, a tavana roll with cream, wrapped in delicately thin paper and tucked under one arm. Her mother had started trusting her with small tasks like this. It gave Ren a chance to see more of the city. The delight of it was twofold. First, it felt rather adult to walk all on her own, with no one to watch or check on her. She felt she could have walked wherever she wanted. But there was also unexpected joy in completing a task. She loved trying to find the fastest route to wherever her father happened to be working.…

But the dream lurched forward. Past the normal moments. Past the point where the bridge collapsed. It was guided on by an unseen hand. Ren felt like a passenger in her own memory. Light and color swirled, and then she was standing at the railing. The crowd was parting to allow someone through.

Landwin Brood.

Hatred stirred in the depths of Ren’s heart. The feeling didn’t belong in the actual memory. At nine years old, Ren hadn’t known the truth that day. When Landwin Brood had come forward, she’d thought of him as a rescuer. Everyone else in the crowd had been so painfully still and quiet. All of them had looked down, their mouths covered to hide their horror. She’d never understood. Why didn’t any of them help her father?

But Landwin had taken action. She heard him shout, a gilded echo in her memory.

“Medics! Get a medical team down there!”

It was easy to hear the truth in his voice now. The playacted concern written into the lines of his face. The way it touched everything but his eyes. Ren watched in the memory and hated him even more, because she saw the way he searched the canal below. It was like watching a murderer who’d returned to witness the final breath.

Those feelings of hatred consumed her.

And that was when she felt the claws—razor sharp—sink into her shoulder. Something latched on to her with unexpected strength. The grip was so tight that she couldn’t turn. All she could see in her periphery was shadow.

“I am hungry,” it breathed. “You are food.”

* * *

Timmons’s hand was on Ren’s shoulder. Her grip merged in Ren’s mind with the claws in the dream. Ren shook herself free, almost violently. It was dark enough that Timmons didn’t notice.

“Sorry to wake you, but you were snoring like a goat. Good night.”

Ren’s mouth had gone dry. A glance showed Theo was on watch. Ren could feel that spot in the back of her mind, frayed and raw. She’d mistaken the feeling of disorder the other night for an absence. Now she understood. It was a presence. She’d had the same dream two nights in a row. Both times she’d encountered something that didn’t belong in the memory. Both times she’d been forced back to that specific place and memory.

She lay there in silence, staring up at the stars, her mind racing. She tossed restlessly until it was her turn to take the final watch. And it was in the bare-bones light of the morning that she figured it out. She resisted waking the others. When they finally stirred, she wasn’t sure what the polite amount of time was to wait before launching questions at them. She waited about thirty seconds.

“Dreams,” she said. “Who had dreams?”

Timmons rubbed her face. “Everyone. Literally everyone has dreams, Ren.”

“Sorry. Nightmares. Who has had the exact same nightmare the last two nights?”

The others exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“So… that means everyone?”

There were nods all around. Her guess was looking solid.

“And it’s not just any nightmare, correct? It’s one of your worst memories.”

Before it had been uncomfortable. Now the others looked suspicious.

“How could you know that?” Theo asked.

“Because I had a dream of the day my father died. Twice now. And both times the dream was… wrong. Something was off about it. There’s a shadow there. In the real memory I was alone that day. Sitting on a bench. My father… he was…” She couldn’t help glancing at Theo. His face was so similar to the one she’d seen pretending to help her in that memory. “It was an accident. No one else was standing with me. I’d gone alone. But in both of the dreams I’ve had out here, someone’s hand is on my shoulder. They… move me around in the memory. It’s like they want me to get closer to the accident. They want me to really see the moment he died again.…”