Dahlia listened with patience and without emotion. She was not the kind to fly off the handle. Never. Impulse control was key to survival. She didn’t jump into any fight just because she could. She didn’t run away just to be safe. For her, everything she did needed to have a reason. It had to be weighed for risks and rewards, but also for lessons. There was no Google anymore, no one she could call, no authorities to solve problems. She needed to be smart and practical, and to use those qualities to lead her people. To provide for them and keep them safe and even help them be happy. That was all part of the code she now lived by, and it informed the code that kept the Pack alive when everything else was dying.

“Get the shit out of your mouth and tell it right,” growled Trash, taking a swat at Neeko, who cringed and shied away.

“Let him talk,” she said, pulling a disgusted grunt from the enforcer. Then, to Neeko, she added, “I need to hear every last bit. We need to know every detail so we can figure out our play. You were telling me about how this old guy fought . . . ?”

Neeko licked his lips again and shifted a few inches sideways, as if trying to be out of Trash’s swatting distance.

“He was fast,” he said. “Fast as you.” He flinched, but when no one chastised him for that, he continued. “I don’t know what kind of stuff he knows. Karate or something. I can’t tell. Didn’t kick us. But he wasn’t exactly boxing.”

“Were his hands open or closed?” asked Dahlia. She’d taken some martial arts, but since the End had read up on it. There were a lot of books around that no one seemed to need, and if she picked the right one there was good advice. She’d even found some police hand-to-hand combat manuals and had pored over every page.

“Kind of both,” said Neeko after a moment’s thought. “He used his fingertips and punched us with one knuckle, but not the big knuckle. He stuck his first finger out so the second knuckle was what he hit us with.”

Dahlia nodded. “And you say he took your hatchets away? How?”

“I . . . I don’t know. He just took them. Twisted them, like. My wrist still hurts.”

Neeko went through all of it. The camper, the food supplies, the comments about how they could have had supplies if they asked nice. Neeko gave her a lot of details but he wasn’t very sharp about people.

“Thanks, Neeks,” she said. “Do me a favor, okay? Draw me a map of exactly where this guy’s camper is parked. Make sure you include as much information as you can about trees, that stream, the position of his camper, anything else in the area. Do that right now.”