A pair of straight metal rails stretches out farther than I can see, like twin arrows fired off into the distance. On it, less than a hundred yards away, is a black machine, gleaming menacingly like a hunter over a kill and smoking like a bonfire. Humans are moving quickly around it, loading heavy crates and bags of supplies. The horn sounds again, and the machine belches black smoke into the air. The humans move faster, waving to one another frantically.

“A train,” Ox says. “This can help us.”

“A what?” I ask.

“That machine. It’s called a train,” he replies. “They move humans in those boxes.”

“How do you know that?”

“The warriors were told of it,” Seth answers. “The sentinels keep it from everyone else because—”

“Because that’s what they do, evidently,” I mutter.

“Watch it. The skies are good to us. We can get on it.”

“What do you mean ‘get on’?”

“Those boxes slide open,” he says, pointing at the wheeled boxes behind the one spewing smoke. “We can hide inside with the cargo. Those tracks are headed east. So long as it keeps relatively straight, we could save hours—days, even.”

“Okay,” I reply. “So what do we do?”

He looks down at the steep ridge. “Figure out a way to get down without dying.”

“We could go around,” Callen offers, inclining to the trees to our right. “The slope tapers off.”

Ox frowns. “We can’t risk it leaving without us on it. I say we go straight down the ridge.”

“And if we each break a leg going your way, we won’t even be able to get on it,” Callen replies.

“Stop,” Seth warns. He’s in full commander mindset now, like when Shirene pulled rank on me. “We’ll go down the ridge, but carefully. Ox is right. We can’t risk it leaving. It’s our best option right now.” He looks each of us in the eye to make sure we understand. “If a human spots you, take them down quietly. We don’t want to leave death in our wake, but we have to stay alive to find the cure. Understood?”

With a chorus of Yes, sirs, I fall in line behind Ox and Callen. The two of them exchange a glance, silently daring the other to go first.

“Skies,” I say, pushing my way between them. “I’ll go first.”