“Great.” My head was spinning. I examined my boots, the ground, anything to avoid looking at his face, shining with excitement, glowing with accomplishment.

“I know, right? And we’ll be back in time for the transition to start, and we can help. Be actual architects of the new stage! And, oh God, I cannot believe this, we will be bringing in one of the first mothers!”

He lifted his feet, one and then the other, almost to knee height, a movement that reminded me of the jigs our uncle used to dance when he was real happy or, as my father used to say, “feeling his oats.”

“Wait.” I looked up. “What do you mean? First mothers?”

“Oh.” He grabbed my arms and squeezed. “I guess I can tell you now. I mean, why not, now that we’re helping to herald it in? Oh God, this is so exciting!” He paused to throw his head back and giggle. It was an odd combination—such a dramatic motion for such a small sound. It seemed all wrong. “The schools are transitioning to a more proactive model.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, dear brother, that they’ve been researching and studying the whole time. The best marrow comes from young donors, the newest carriers.” He started walking in circles, talking with his hands, trying to remember all the words to this particular tune. It drifted into the branches like a funeral song.

“See, young people, babies, they have immature cells—stem cells—and their tissue is weaker, easier to break down, like Jell-O. So they carry the cells that can become anything to anyone, and they’re easier to extract.” He shrugged, exaggerated, like he was explaining simple facts to a child.

It was getting cold. It had to be, because my hands were getting numb. I balled them into fists, then the fists unclenched, then they were running up and down the strap holding the bow and quiver.

When I didn’t answer, he continued. “Soooo, I mean, why waste precious resources and time on older donors? Especially when dreamers are still so fertile, even now?”

The blood returned to my extremities in a torrent. Suddenly, I could feel everything, see everything.

“If we change the institutes to focus on farming newborns, we can cut out all the messy in-between bits. And it means there will be a chance for more of us to integrate. To live like normal people.” Mitch flapped his arms now, spine straight, head back. “We, brother, can make it so that more Native people have a chance to truly live. As productive members of a reborn society.”

The bow was in my hands. I saw Rose at the school, defiant and stubborn as ever, even under those circumstances. She wouldn’t have to get ready. She stayed ready. I saw her in the common room with a fist held high. I saw her in the Correction Room, singing louder than the siren. I saw her fading away from me, because I would never get to see her again, not after this.