They pressed forward for ten or fifteen minutes, like three hunters looking for a hapless deer. The fading sunlight barely illuminated the forest floor, creating a shadowy gloom that made Michael wonder if they might not be stepping right past the very Tangents they were searching for.

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of movement off to his right, a quick flash of something bright moving from one tree to another. Walter and Bryson were already moving on, so Michael slowed his steps until he stopped completely, and continued to crunch the pine straw underfoot. His companions were so lost in concentration that they didn’t notice they’d left Michael, and soon they’d turned a corner, disappearing behind a huge oak. Michael took his opportunity. He turned as slowly as possible toward the movement he’d seen in the forest.

He crept up to the tree where he’d seen the movement stop.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Michael whispered. “I’m…uh…the First. Please, just let me talk to whoever’s leading you guys out here. Let me talk to Janey.”

A couple of seconds went by before an answer came, a soft but harsh rasp. A man. “Janey’s a child. What would make you think she leads us?”

Michael definitely hadn’t been expecting that to be the response. “Um, okay. She said—”

“Yes,” the voice interrupted. “Many of my friends have chosen to take the bodies of children. But the agreement is that they’re too weak to lead.”

It was already a weird conversation, and Michael didn’t have much time. “Look, I’m a Tangent, just like you guys. They call me the First.”

“We know who you are, Michael.”

“Okay. Well, I just want to talk to someone who knows what’s going on. That Janey girl threatened us, but I’m pretty sure we’re on the same side. I don’t get it.”

Another long pause stretched on. Michael looked back, worried that Walter would come charging through those distant trees at any second. Finally, the man behind the tree responded.

“Wait here and I’ll bring our leader to you. But give me your weapon first.” A weathered but muscled arm appeared, the hand palm up and fingers outstretched.

A flurry of thoughts whirled through Michael’s mind. How insane to even consider—

“Fine,” he said, cutting it all off. He handed over the rifle and the man vanished into the woods, barely making a sound.

4

It was too good to be true that he’d lose his friends for long. Moments after he handed over his rifle, Bryson called out his name. It sounded like they’d moved on farther than he’d expected. Bryson called again, and Michael could hear a few indecipherable words that didn’t sound very nice.