“But rocks aren’t the only thing. When I was out in that desert, and then when . . .” The way she looked at him, he knew whatever she’d say next, he was part of it. “I’ve never felt that way. We don’t have fear like that. But if those two things are different, then there has to be more, right? Other things besides fear and rocks that are different in the real?”

Perry nodded absently, imagining a world without fear. Was that possible? If there was no fear, how could there be comfort? Or courage?

She took his nod as encouragement to continue, which he was fine with. She had a good voice. He hadn’t realized until he’d heard her sing. He’d rather she sang more instead of talked, but he wasn’t going to ask.

“See, it’s all energy, like everything. The Eye sends impulses that flow right into the brain, fooling it. Telling it, ‘You’re seeing this and touching that.’ But maybe some things haven’t been perfected yet. Maybe they’re close to the real thing, but not the same. Anyway, that’s not what you asked. I wear it because I’m not myself without it.”

Perry scratched his cheek and winced, forgetting about the bruise there. “Our Markings are like that. I wouldn’t be myself without them.”

Right away he regretted saying the words. Daylight streaked over the ridgeline in long beams, slicing through the fog. He shouldn’t be sitting there talking with a Dweller when Talon was dying somewhere, away from home.

“Do your tattoos have to do with your name?”

“Yes,” he said, stuffing his blanket into his satchel.

“Are you named Falcon? Or Hawk?”

“No and no.” He stood and buckled his belt. Grabbed his bow and quiver. “I’ll take the eyepiece now.”

Her eyebrows drew together, creasing the pale skin between. “No.”

“Mole, if you’re seen with that device, there won’t be any way to pass you off as one of us.”

“But I wore it yesterday.”

“Yesterday was yesterday. Here on it’ll be different.”

“Take your tattoos off first, Savage.”

Perry froze, grinding down into his teeth. The funny thing about being called a Savage was that it made him want to act like one. “We’re not in your world anymore, Dweller. People die here and it’s not pseudo. It’s very, very real.”

She tipped her chin up, daring him. “You do it then. You’ve seen how it’s done.”

In a flash of memory, Perry saw Soren ripping the device off her face. He didn’t want to do this. He reached for the knife at his hip. “If that’s how it needs to be.”