“I was reassigned to an outpost on the North Shore,” said Yoon. “When the Partials invaded we fled south, and the unit broke apart, and eventually I ran across the Rhinos.” She pointed to her companion, a young man who looked sixteen years old at the most; Marcus realized with a start that this made him one of the youngest humans left in the world. “This is McArthur.”

Marcus shook the boy’s hand. “You have a first name?”

“No, sir,” he said, and Marcus nodded. It had become common for some of the youngest humans to drop their first name altogether, preferring their surname because it linked them to the past. A three-year-old kid who lost everything he ever loved usually remembered that he had parents, but wasn’t likely to remember much of anything about them. Identifying himself by his surname told people like McArthur that he came from somewhere, and helped him feel connected. Sometimes that was more important than an individual identity.

“Well then,” said Marcus. “Yoon, McArthur, say hello to Galen, Vinci, and Commander Asher Woolf. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“We’re not easy to find,” said Yoon. “Though there’s probably a better way to say hello than just shaking the hell out of the kudzu on the side of the house. We thought it was an ambush.”

“That was an accident,” said Marcus, giving a small, embarrassed nod. “It did work, though, so there’s that.”

McArthur frowned. “How are you still alive? We thought you all died months ago.”

Woolf clapped the young man on the shoulder. “I like this kid. But we’ve made enough noise here to attract every Partial scout in the forest, so what do you say we get back to your group and continue this conversation where it’s safe?”

Yoon looked at Vinci. “Can we have our weapons back?”

Vinci handed them over freely—two sturdy rifles and a wide, curved blade. “Just making sure we didn’t have any more accidental ambushes.”

Yoon took a rifle and the knife, sliding the latter into a slim leather scabbard on her back. She stepped to the window, whistled a short birdcall, and waited silently for an answer. Marcus was expecting another whistle but was surprised to hear a low, rumbling growl. Yoon opened the door and a massive black cat peered in, yawned, and stalked away into the trees.

“That’s a pet?” asked Marcus. Small cats, the kind the old world kept as pets, had adapted perfectly to the post-Break world and were practically ubiquitous across the island, but Marcus had never seen one so large. “It looks like a panther.”

Yoon grinned wickedly. “That’s because it’s a panther.”

“You keep panthers?” Vinci’s voice was calm and even, though Marcus had come to know his moods well enough to view this as surprise.

“Not typically, no,” said Marcus. “Yoon is . . . special.”