The princess thrust the heavy fish toward Zeke, who hesitated. She changed her mind, retrieved the net from Houjin, and gave the fish to him instead.

Louder and louder came the breathing, from something so huge his wheezing gasps filled the whole block. The creature was hidden in the foggy air, but he was moving; the source of the sound slipped from left to right, accompanied by heavy footsteps.

Zeke backed up against Rector, too, not for protective purposes, but from the ordinary, human need to band together for defense. Houjin joined them, and soon they were in a nervous back-to-back circle, everyone facing outward … everyone looking through the fog, straining to see what lurked inside it.

Angeline shifted the net in her hands, and elbowed Houjin so he’d hold up the fish.

“Hello out there,” she said softly. “We know you’re watching us. Are you hungry?”

Zeke tried it, too. “Hey out there, Mister Sasquatch. Miss Angeline says you don’t mean us any harm.”

In response, they heard a loud huff or cough. It was the chuffing sound of something with a stuffy nose, a congested torso. It was off to their left. Everyone calibrated accordingly, twisting to observe the location without leaving anyone’s back undefended.

Angeline picked up the thread. “You’re stuck inside here, aren’t you? You’re just trying to go outside, isn’t that it? You’ve got a lady friend over there, beyond the wall. I seen her when I went fishing. She got up close to me, and didn’t make a sound, but she watched from the trees.”

“You saw her?” Houjin whispered.

She lowered her voice. “Sure did. She’s a pretty-colored thing, smooth and brown-red, like cedar.”

The big thing groaned, or roared feebly. Rector retreated as deeply as possible into the tangle of his friends, wanting nothing more than to bolt for the nearest shelter; and if he had the faintest idea where that might’ve been, he might’ve done so. But he didn’t, and the only thing keeping him from being by himself in the Blight, in the wrecked city, was this knot of humanity.

His mask fogged. His eyes watered.

“He’s coming,” he said, and he hated himself for how much it sounded like whining.

Angeline’s cadence was steady as a rock, and her words poured like honey into the fog. “That’s all right. Let him come. How about this, boys—all of us, now. Let’s start moving toward the jail. Let’s see if he’ll follow us. But don’t make any fast moves, or sudden gestures. We don’t mean him any trouble, and we want him to know it.”

In a bunch, all four of them began a retreat. “Which way?” Rector asked.

“Follow me. Don’t take your eyes off the fog.”

“Couldn’t if I tried.”

“You know what I mean.”