There must be clusters of survivors in other parts of the hills sloping around the edges of Newage, although none of us can reach one another given the way the Federation has positioned its troops in the forests. Even so, we’re enough of an annoyance that the Premier is still hunting for us.

Specifically, for me. His first Skyhunter. His worst mistake. Maybe I should be proud of myself.

I try to sit as still as I can. Behind me, I can feel Adena fiddling gently with my injured wings. One of them was mangled in the last siege, leaving a deep gash in the metal and severing a few of the wires and tendons servicing it. I’ll be honest—I didn’t think these wings would hurt if they broke. But they sure do, the wound leaving a deep ache that rings through my bones. Adena has tried to stabilize them as much as she can, but I can’t open them without feeling like some goddamn knives have stabbed through my back.

“Their train’s ready to move out?” she asks me as she works.

“Tomorrow, I hear.” I point down at the tracks that wind away from Newage’s walls and out into the hills dividing Mara from the rest of the Federation. “It looks like they have what they need on the cars.”

“Cars?”

“Carriages? They are loaded,” I rephrase, trying in vain to explain it in Maran. My eyes swivel briefly to the rest of our encampment, searching for Jeran. It is always harder to be clear without him translating at my side.

Adena casts me a sidelong glance. “Your accent’s a little better.”

I shrug. “As long as you understand.”

“You still sound more formal than you need to be. You don’t have to emphasize every syllable.”

“How should I say it?”

She repeats the same phrase, and I try to concentrate on the differences. “See? I’m not straining each word the way you do.”

I say it again, struggling. In the months since the Federation’s final siege, I have learned enough Maran to communicate with the others on a basic level. But moments like these still confuse me.

Adena twists something against my back, and I feel a twinge of pain. “Tomorrow isn’t much time for us,” I continue. “But we don’t have a choice, do we?”

She sighs. “No, we don’t. That train will be carrying at least several dozen Maran prisoners of war bound for the capital. If we’re going to free those soldiers and destroy that track, we’ll need to do it by morning.”

I’m tempted to say that it’s better to leave the Maran soldiers to their fate. Even if we could free them, where would they go? You’d just delay the inevitable. General Caitoman sends more soldiers and Ghosts into the forests every day. They’d find them eventually if they continued to hide near the city. And then what?

But I don’t. What’s the point? If we’re the only ones left to fight against the Federation, to slow them down, and we don’t act, then no one else will. So I nod. “Better to do it now,” I mutter in agreement.