“Company A with me,” the leader said quietly. “Companies B and C...” He pointed to indicate that their job was on the other side of the road. “Remember, it doesn’t matter if it’s a clean kill or a killing wound. Just put ’em down, as many as you can. My whistle is the signal.”

Company A moved away from the road and quietly approached the cattle, while the other men crept within firing range of the bison.

All the men raised their weapons and waited.

Bait the Wolves by killing animals they needed for food. That was stage one of the land reclamation project. After all, fewer bison meant more land for cattle.

Bait the Wolves. Stir things up. And most important, don’t get caught.

The leader whistled. The men opened fire and kept firing until they emptied their rifles. Then they ran back to the trucks and drove away, speeding up the dirt road to get back to the bunkhouse or their homes before anyone thought to look for them or wonder where they had been.

They had struck the first blow. Now secrecy was truly a matter of life and death.

Thaisia could be the breadbasket for the world. There are thousands and thousands of acres of land going to waste, providing nothing instead of growing the food the human race needs. One way or another the terra indigene must be persuaded to release some of the land they hold with such selfish disregard for the desperate needs of other species in the world. If the Others don’t want to be bothered with such concerns, let the human race do the work of providing food for those who need it. Let us utilize some of this empty land instead of forcing us to watch our children starve.

—Nicholas Scratch during a speech at an HFL rally in Toland

There is no wasted, empty land in Thaisia. Every place on this continent is full of residents who need what the land already provides. Even the deserts have residents who live on what is available in those places. Even the coldest, remotest areas are not empty of life. When Mr. Scratch talks about the needs of other species, he is really talking about one species, the human species. He and his followers care for nothing else, which is why the terra indigene must care about all the rest.

—Elliot Wolfgard, when asked to respond to Nicholas Scratch’s speech

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 4

Windsday, Juin 6

White walls, white furniture, white clothes.

“Please, I need colors. I see the colors.”

“You don’t need colors, cs821. You just need a cut. You’ll feel better after you’re cut.”

“Please.”

“Stubborn little bitch, obsessed with colors. We recommend finger cuts as much as possible. Might as well use up that skin in case we have to remove the fingers to keep her from making drawings that dilute the prophecies.”