Aria flew upright, gasping, clutching the ratty mattress beneath her. Her Smarteye rested in the palm of her hand, moist with the sweat of her nightmare.

The Outsider strode into the house a moment later. He peered at her suspiciously as he handed her a chunk of meat and then left. Aria ate, too numb to make any sense of what had just happened. She’d dreamed. Now both her body and mind felt foreign.

She heard the Outsider moving through the rubble outside. She sat back and listened to the thud of rocks hitting earth, or clacking sharply as they struck other rocks. Hours had passed when he returned carrying the navy blanket cinched like a sling.

He set it down without a word and spread it out, revealing a pile of odd things. A ring rolled over the fleece before it settled to a stop. She noticed a blue gemstone set into the thick gold band just as he swept it up and dropped it into his satchel. He sat on his heels and cleared his throat.

“I found a few things for you. . . . A coat. It’s made of wolf fur. It’ll get colder as we move farther up the mountain so it’ll keep you warmer.” He glanced at her, then back at the pile. “Those boots are in fair shape. A touch big but they should work. The cloths are clean. Boiled.” A fleeting smile crossed his lips, though his eyes remained downcast. “They’re for . . . whatever you want to do with them. There are a few other things. I brought what I could find.”

She looked at the random assortment, emotion sticking like glue in her throat. A ragged old leather coat with holes she could poke her fingers through but lined with thick silvery fur. A black knitted cap with a few feathers slipped into the woven wool. A piece of leather with a buckle that looked like it had once been a horse bridle but would serve better as a belt than the gauze she used now. He’d spent hours locating these things. Digging them up, as he had their water and the thistle roots. Like most things needed to be on the outside.

“What you said about my Markings . . . my tattoos,” he continued. “You were on the right track.” He looked up, meeting her eyes. “I’m called Peregrine. Like the falcon. People call me Perry.”

He had a name. Peregrine. Perry. New information to consider. Did it suit him? Did it mean something? But Aria found she couldn’t even look at him. A Savage had needed to explain to her that she was menstruating. She bit into her raw inner lip and tasted blood. Her eyes blurred. She had never thought so much about blood before. Now she couldn’t get away from it.