Triple, however, was unconcerned. “It’s a colonist horn. They spotted a conscription ship.” She kicked at a pebble on the trail. “Took them longer to come back than I expected. They must not be too hard-pressed for—”

A quiet boom pulsed through the air. The sound was as familiar to her as the beating of her own heart.

An explosion.

Triple turned, wide-eyed, to Caledonia, who nodded grimly back.

A bomb.

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

The girls didn’t move—they barely breathed as they waited for what they feared would follow.

A minute passed. Then two. And before either of them could entertain the hope that they’d been mistaken, a second explosion sounded.

“That one was closer,” Caledonia said, wishing they hadn’t abandoned the high ground so soon. Was it a single ship? Two? Or had the Father sent a fleet this time?

“We have to go!” Triple turned and pelted down the trail.

The two girls ran hard, each explosion spurring them onward. Bombs fell with increasing speed, one bursting on the heels of another, growing louder as the girls descended the hillside.

Then, as suddenly as they began, the bombs stopped. A deafening silence flooded the woods. Triple turned to Caledonia, both girls bracing for the attack to resume. But nothing followed.

The girls rushed onward, and when they finally spilled into camp, they found it in an uproar. The entire western edge was in splinters, more than half of their tents were missing or reduced to singed scraps of fabric. The ground was scorched, the trees smeared with webs of fire caught within the bark, the air dusky with smoke and ash. And it was loud. Shouts and cries, cracking trees, the snap of fires still chewing up their camp, all contributed to the cacophony. Caledonia let it wash over her, settling into a kind of order.

In the center of camp stood two groups of people in opposition to one another. Shouting. It took Caledonia a moment to understand that not everyone in that small circle belonged here.

There was Sledge, standing tall in the middle, the picture of calm strength, and there was Pine behind him. Pine had his hands planted on his hips, and by his posture alone Caledonia knew he was ready to attack the stranger currently yelling at Sledge.

The man was tall and thin, and even at this distance Caledonia marked the guns holstered to his hips and thighs. Behind him were three others, two men and one woman, all dressed in simple clothtech.

“Who are they?” Caledonia asked.

It took Triple a few seconds to answer. When she did, her voice was thinned with something like pain. “Colonists,” she said.

The man’s voice climbed once more, and this time they heard him clear across camp. “We want you gone! NOW!”