Straightening, he drew a deep breath of the night. Welcomed the clean air into his singed lungs. Alarms broke the silence, first muted through the rubble, then blaring all around him, so loud he felt the sound thrum in his chest. Perry looped the strap of his satchel and quiver over his shoulder, took up his bow, and pulled foot, sprinting through the cool predawn.

An hour later, with the Dweller fortress no more than a mound in the distance, he sat to give his pounding head a break. It was morning, already warm in the Shield Valley, a dry stretch of land that reached nearly to his home two days to the north. He let his head fall against his forearm.

Smoke clung to his hair and skin. He scented it with every breath. Dweller smoke wasn’t like theirs. It smelled like molten steel and chemicals that burned hotter than fire. His left cheek throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the core of pain behind his nose. The muscles in his thighs twitched, still running away from the alarms.

It was bad enough he’d broken into the Dweller fortress. His brother would cast him out for that alone. But he’d tangled with the Moles. Probably killed at least one of them. The Tides didn’t have problems with the Dwellers like other tribes did. Perry wondered if he’d just changed that.

He reached for his satchel and rummaged through the leather pack. His fingers brushed something cool and velvety. Perry swore. He’d forgotten to leave the girl’s eye patch behind. He brought it out, examining it in his palm. It caught the blue light of the Aether like a huge water droplet.

He’d heard the Moles as soon as he’d broken into the wooded area. Their laughing voices had echoed from the farming space. He’d crept over and watched them, stunned to see so much food left to rot. He’d planned to leave after a few minutes, but by then he’d gotten curious about the girl. When Soren tore the eyepiece from her face, he couldn’t stand by and watch any longer, even if she was just a Mole.

Perry slipped the eye patch back into his satchel, thinking to sell it when traders came around in spring. Dweller gadgets fetched a sizey price, and there were plenty of things his people needed, to say nothing of his nephew, Talon. Perry dug deeper into the bag, past his shirt, vest, and water skin, until he found what he wanted.

The apple’s skin shone more softly than the eyepiece. Perry ran his thumbs over it, following its curves. He’d bagged it in the farming space. The one thing he had thought to grab as he’d stalked the Moles. He brought the apple to his nose and breathed in the sweet scent, his mouth filling with saliva.