The only place our shirts were to come off was in the safety of our huts, for a sponge bath while a roof and walls surrounded us. Ma beat me with a switch just a summer earlier when I’d lifted my hem to wipe sweat from my face. Only a sliver of my back had been revealed, but she went off. “How many times do I have to tell you not to take risks? Show it to no one. Unless you trust them with your own life, keep it hidden. Always.” She brought the switch down again for good measure.

“Aw, come on, Delta,” Asher said with a knowing look. “No one’s here to see. Besides, you can’t imagine how good the sun feels on your skin.” He eyed my thin woven top. I’d already ditched my wool overshirt and was down to my final layer.

“I’m not taking it off.”

“Stubborn devout,” he teased.

“Rusted rule breaker!”

He trudged deeper into the alkali beds and bent to harvest the soda, giving me a clear view of his back and the brand that had been put there when we were five. It practically glistened in the sun, the pale scars standing out against his light brown skin. Lines and dashes and circles and curves. Like mine, it was a map, if you knew how to read it, though no one did.

Across the lake, something glinted—an unnatural flash of light. I ran for the binos. They were our pack’s only pair, and as valuable as the Old World tech is, we were allowed to take them when harvesting in case a flag went up at camp to signal us back.

I brought the binos to my eyes and scanned across the way. On the western edge of the lake, nestled behind a knot of thick scrub, was a group of men. Four of them, dressed in black, scarves pulled over their mouths and long rifles in hand. One held binos up to his face, like me. But he wasn’t looking my way. He was looking at the bank, where Asher was bent over the alkali beds, his back facing the strange men.

“Put your shirt back on,” I snapped.

“Will you drop it?”

“Asher, I’m not kidding. Do it now.”

Something about my tone got to him because he scrambled for his wool top and pulled it over his sun-bleached hair. “What’s got you all raw?”

The men on the other side of the lake were slipping back into the scrub. I thought I could make out a mustang or two as they descended the slope and disappeared from view. Rare animals in these parts, and near impossible to break.

“Delta, are you even listening?”

“We have to go,” I said, lowering the binos. “Now.”