Anji’s father had been a fisherman before he was murdered. In company with his knowledge of sailing and storms was an endless supply of sea-related sayings, which he would pester Anji with to no end. One of his favorites was “You can bait the hook however you like, sprout, but the fish still has to bite.” As a child, Anji had always thought it was her father’s way of telling her to be patient, but a full day in the Hawk’s shadow had given the phrase a whole new meaning. Anji tried shouting, crying, and pleading for the Hawk to let her go, but her every word was met with either silence or the occasional command to shut her mouth. As the day faded, Anji traded frustration for curiosity and began plying the Hawk with more questions about the Menagerie and the Hawk’s blatant disregard for their well-known rules. But the Hawk remained stubborn as a rockfish with a full belly no matter what she asked or how she asked it.

If she even is the Hawk, Anji had thought. The real Hawk would never have killed those soldiers. She should have given me up the moment they asked.

After a day of fighting, shivering, and what seemed like endless walking (on Anji’s part at least), they’d finally stopped atop a ridge overlooking a cluster of shabby buildings bisected by a wide, potholed street. A thin stream trickled over a rocky trail at their backs, winding down the ridge where it joined a larger tributary that lined the town’s north edge like a silver ribbon. No sound issued from the houses or empty alleys. If not for a scattering of candlelit windows and wisps of smoke rising from a few chimneys, Anji would have thought the place deserted.

“Do all the towns up here have to look so sad?”

“Try living off this land yourself,” said the Hawk.

Anji’s teeth chattered as the moon broke free of a bank of clouds in an otherwise empty sky. A black shape darted through the air above their heads and dipped toward the stream, making barely a ripple as it beat its wings silently upward again.

“Just saying,” she said, “town with a name like Silverton—thought it might be a bit livelier.” She recalled a sign somewhere on the road days past, indicating the town lay some way off her frantic course. She’d put it to memory in case anyone had asked where she’d come from.

And a load of good that did for me, she thought, and for the first time in days, she laughed to herself.

The Hawk stiffened. “What’s so funny?”