“Think if we polished a piece of quartz real good, we could convince Old Fang it’s a fallen star?” she says finally. “Argue it’s a sign from the gods that we need to move?”

“He won’t buy that.”

“You’re right. We should polish a turd instead.”

I snort again, and she giggles, one hand on her belly.

“So, are you going to do the honors of gathering patties from the stable, or is it on me?” she asks.

We snicker together until Ma mutters in her sleep. Indie pats the mat beside her, and I scoot nearer.

We sit shoulder to shoulder, our backs against the dirt wall. I set the awl aside and move on to stitching. I can still remember when I was smaller than her, my head only coming up to her shoulder. She’d tell me stories passed down through the pack, or on clear nights, when we weren’t stuck underground from a storm, she’d point at the glinting sky and marvel at its beauty.

It still amazes me, how it can be so beautiful while everything down here dies.

As though she can hear my thoughts, Indie whispers, “In all seriousness, Delta, we shouldn’t talk about the stars that way. The gods might hear.”

“In the cellar? When we’re half buried in dirt?” I raise an eyebrow, and she smiles. It’s not a real smile, just an I’ll-humor-you one. She’s been doing that a lot since she got pregnant, still making jokes but then seeming to regret it, forcing herself to be the parent between us. Her green eyes glimmer, and I’m struck by how unalike we are. We share a mother, but our pas are different, and in the candlelight it’s obvious. Her with green eyes, me with brown. Her nose broad and mine a narrow bridge. Her hair a shade of straw and mine as dark as the night. We’ve never met our fathers, though, and in this way, we’re the same. Tied to Ma. Tied to the pack. Tied to Dead River.

“They’ll come back for us—the gods. You have to believe that.”

“I believe it, Indie.” I tighten a stitch. “At least I’m trying to.”

Her eyes go wide.

“Blasphemous, I know,” I tease, but she’s not laughing. She’s looking only at her lap, her mouth twisted in concern. “It’s just hard to accept that they’ll return before it’s too late. I know what happened last time we lost faith. I’ll never forget what happened to Asher, or all the others we left behind at Alkali Lake, but if we—”

Indie’s hand clasps over my wrist, stopping my work on the goggles.

“Delta?” she says, her voice small against the raging wind. “I think my waters just broke.”

Chapter Two