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“You there!” a man shouts, and I jump and shove Tessa behind me, pressing back against the wall of the house.

But we haven’t been discovered. Three patrolmen have crossbows trained on a boy with a pack a short distance away. He can’t be more than thirteen or fourteen, and I suddenly realize I know him. His name is Forrest, and he lives with his parents on the far side of the village. His eyes are wide, his cheeks stark white in the moonlight. He’s right at the edge of the tree line, and he must have walked right out in front of them.

I remember Mistress Kendall crying over Gillis, and I wonder if there will be another mother sobbing over her son, getting slaughtered in the darkness when she screams at the night patrol.

One of the patrolmen grabs Forrest’s satchel and yanks it open. “A bit young to be smuggling, aren’t you, boy?”

Atmy back, Tessa is breathing shallowly, her fingers in a death grip on mine now.

I’ve never interfered with the night patrol as Wes. The risk was always too great. Tessa and I hide, and we do what we can.

Tonight, the stakes feel different.

Forrest swallows and stammers, “I’m not—I’m not—I’m not—”

“We know what you are.” The patrolman lifts his crossbow. Another grabs the boy’s arm.

Tessa gasps. Forrest screams. “No! Da! Help me!”

I burst from our hiding place. “Stop!” I shout. “Stop!”

One of the patrolmen looks my way, but the other doesn’t hesitate. He pulls the trigger on his crossbow. I leap for the boy.

Forrest falls when I slam into him, and for a moment, I’m worried that I’ve been too late, that I’ve just tackled a corpse. But my arm burns like fire, and Forrest is gasping against the underbrush.

I ignore the pain in my arm and spring to my feet, only to find a crossbow leveled at my chest. “Good,” grunts the patrolman. “I’ll get a bonus for catching two of you.”

Then he pulls the trigger.