Soot is weary. Still, he puts one paw on Mother’s shoulders and another on Awa. They hug him. He licks their faces and steps sideways. Fiends tug at his tail too late. Pausing in Smokeland to catch a breath, Soot smells Hezram—his sweat, his voice coming from a stranger’s mouth. A fiend jumps from a tree carcass. Soot wants to rip out its throat but he steps to the everyday with Awa and Mother. The bad moments dissolve in the kissing and hugging and good mood aromas at the corral. Soot wags his tail, slapping friendly legs. Everyone is happy! Mango sprays Meera with warm water, cleaning away blood and filth.

“I should be dead,” Meera says.

“I wouldn’t have let them…” Rokiat declares.

“Miracles.” Mother smiles and babbles. Perhaps she will not die right away. Her heart is steadier. “To see you again. I never thought.”

Awa fusses over Mother, combing snarls from wiry hair, offering her bread and a jug of broth from the pirate cook. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to—”

“No,” Mother says, patting Awa. “I’m fine. To see my beautiful daughter. Miracles.” She pushes Awa toward Meera and Rokiat. “I’m fine. Go. They need you.”

Reluctantly, Awa turns to Meera and Rokiat. Mother spills the broth. Soot laps it up. He eats the bread as it falls from her fingers. After many trips through void-smoke with heavy everyday bodies, Soot is a tired old hound. He sets his head in Mother’s lap and she pets him. Awa puts a cloud-silk robe from her Aido bag over Meera’s wet skin. The robe holds the tang of the cold region, almonds, heather, and raintree blossoms.

“I thought you’d jump on Fannie and follow us.” Meera shakes her head.

“I said they were ahead of us.” Rokiat strokes Fannie. “Bibi always follows Fannie.”

“We stopped for the coin and clothes you and I hid,” Meera says. “Then Bibi ran and ran, into mirages, and we left poison dust behind. I thought we were safe. Free.”

“Like now?” Rokiat looks every direction. Soot sniffs his crotch. Rokiat wants to run, not stand and fight like Awa. “Hezram caught up with us before.”

“Why were you guarding the cell and not a prisoner in it?” Awa is mad at Rokiat.

“Rokiat told Hezram he rode off chasing me and Bibi.” Meera clutches his hand.

Rokiat shrugs. “Hezram assumed Meera was my prisoner.”

“And made you Master of Horses?” Awa doesn’t trust him.

“The old master died in the poison dust from Ice Mountain,” Meera whispers in Awa’s ears. “Despite everything, I do love Rokiat.”

Awa stays mad. “In that cell, there were so many transgressors to bleed and spirit slaves to—”

“Hezram has twenty cells in the citadel, not all full yet.” Rokiat trembles. “Rebels will bleed too, for Nightmare Gates around Arkhys City.” He smells hopeless. “Hezram will find us anywhere.”