Keir is huge. If it weren't for the rugged brick and wooden buildings, and the smell of wood smoke drifting on the air, one would think we were in a civilized city like Herald.

That's one thing I've noticed about the Outlands: where there's people, there's fire.

It only makes sense that Markee would be near.

The light cutting through the forest at such an angle tells us that we don't have much daylight left. I'm eager to talk to Summus Aspen and get to Markee as fast as possible. I tell Sol as much.

"I doubt he will be expecting us," Sol ponders aloud. After a beat, she begins in a direction. "We will go to his residence at once."

How Sol weaves through the streets of Keir makes me wonder how long she lived in the compound. If I didn't have her as my guide, I would never be able to traverse this village. She doesn't hesitate to turn a single corner. Letting my curiosity overcome my instinct to be polite, I ask.

"I was born and raised here," Sol says, remnicent. "This is where I met my husband, Eli." I try to hide the surprise that's evident on my face. I hadn't even known she was married. Then again, I hadn't asked.

There's so much about Sol I don't know. Where is Eli now? What reasons would she have for leaving her hometown—the sprawling village where she grew up and started her family? I'm not usually one to push and pry for information, but the more I get to know Outlanders, the more I see myself in them. The more human they are.

That may or may not be a bad thing; humans can be as cruel as they can be kind.

As we walk through the compound, we pass a multitude of people preparing for nightfall. Some light torches to finish their duties by the flickering light. Others are hurriedly walking home while their neighbors promenade down the street, chattering with their companions. Hundreds of smells permeate the air: dinnertime must be near. The scent of roasting meat mingles with the woodsmoke on the wind, making my mouth water.

No one seems to notice us until we amble past two gossiping women on the street, one much younger than the other. Despite the age gap, they're the spitting image of each other with their dark hair and bird-like features: possibly mother and daughter.

"Sol?" The older woman shrieks, her eyes bugging out of her skull. "What are you doing here?" She demands sharply. She quickly recovers, erecting a mask of superior indifference, but her daughter's jaw is securely rooted to the ground.

Sol stops and regards them with a bored stare. "You should not gawk, lest you attract flies," she advises the girl, whose mouth snaps shut, teeth grinding. Sol turns to the woman.

"Not to worry, Lucinda. We won't be here for long." Sol replies coolly. That's when the woman's scathing gaze passes over me.

I want to disappear, but I'm unable to move. At first, it was Sol's tone towards them that shocked me; I never imagined she could be so vicious. Now Lucinda's judgement has me petrified. As she studies my person, her nose scrunches up more and more, obviously disgusted at my presence. Suddenly, I remember exactly where I am. I'm in the Outlands, a thousand dreams away from home. I don't know the people in this village, and I can't trust them. But, I'm so close to finding Markee I can almost taste it, and that thought alone puts life back into my limbs. I will not let this foul woman deter me.

Just as Lucinda opens her mouth to protest my existence, Sol turns, grabbing my hand.

"I am not done with you!" Lucinda screeches.

"That is not my problem," Sol sneers. With that, we spin, leaving them in the dust.

◊ ◊ ◊

"I see what you meant," I tell Sol as we continue toward our destination. "Those people seemed like such snobs."

"Pompous and wicked," Sol smirks. "Did I ever need such a reason to leave?"

I'm embarrassed that I wasn't able to defend myself against Lucinda's remarks. I just stood there and let her look at me that way before Sol intervened. What if Sol's not around next time I'm confronted by a strange Outlander? And what if the assault didn't stop at nasty looks? It's obvious I'm not from this village, I'm sure she could tell by my clothing alone. What's to stop the next person from attacking me? I am in a village ran by a kidnapper, after all.

We march on, but I can't leave one thought behind; why were Lucinda and her daughter so jarred at Sol's return?

The streets begin to narrow as we approach a large cluster of buildings. The mud bricks that built these units are a much darker brown, making the buildings seem older, more weathered than the surrounding homes. It's as if all of Keir started here.

Goosebumps rise along my arms, despite the heat of the evening. This must be the Summus' quarters.

Sol stops in front of the center building, the tallest and most intimidating, and looks to me. The hint of worry in her gaze betrays the non-emotion on her face. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself, and nods to me. I return the gesture, ready to face Markee's kidnapper. I don't think about what I might have to do to get her back. If I do, my façade of confidence might crumble.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sol pushes open the wide double door. I will my stone-heavy feet to move, to stand beside Sol. Whatever she is sacrificing by bringing me here, I am grateful for it. We're in this together.

The creaking of the hinges are simultaneous with the turn of heads in our direction. Dozens of Outlanders rubberneck to witness our entrance, their faces a variety of expressions. Some eyebrows raise in curiosity, others gape in surprise. But all of them double take when their eyes land on me.

Suddenly, I don't feel so great.

The door slamming shut behind us echoes through the room full of stares, heightening my unease. I wipe my clammy hands on my shorts, but it doesn't help my nerves. Sol is the first one to break the silence.

"Old friends," she begins, walking toward the center of the room. There are conference tables on either side of her, a handful of Outlanders sitting at each. Oil lamps line the walls, bright light filling the room even as the sun sets. This must be some kind of meeting chamber, a strategist's habitat. At the front of the room is a dais upon which an empty throne sits. Sol notices this just as I do.

"I must see Summus Aspen," Sol continues. "Where is he?"

"You show up here for the first time in years, and we don't even get a hello?" a voice calls from the table on the left. It belongs to a middle-aged man, a humored smirk on his face. I chance a look at his companions and they all seem to shocked into silence, but not displeased at Sol's presence. His chair creaks as he stands up, beaming at her, and the tension in the room dissolves. The man embraces Sol and dozens of voices fill the room, joyous at Sol's return and questioning what brings her back.

Sol's smile eases my anxiety, but I'm still hesitant to approach the crowd. These may be Sol's friends, but they're still the people responsible for capturing Markee, and possibly holding her prisoner. Just the thought of it chills my bones, and it is enough to hinder my trust in these strangers.

Sol senses my apprehension, and strides over to me, putting her arm around my shoulder in a show of companionship.

"This is Sophie. She is from the walled city of Herald, and she is here with me," Sol says, her tone offering no argument. She then explains how she came to find me and asks if the rumors were true; is the Summus on the search for someone? And was that someone Markee?

"Yes," the man who spoke earlier says. "Ryne arrived with a girl yesterday." He exchanges a look with one of his fellows. "This girl followed them?"

I can't always let Sol speak for me. I must find my own voice. I step forward.

"I did," I confirm. "And I want her back."

The man regards me with a soft grin. "Sorry Princess, no can do," he volunteers. "Summus' orders."

I'm getting real tired of that nickname.

"We must speak with him," Sol insists, but the man shakes his head.

"He's still interrogating her," his voice drops to a humbled whisper. "We may have found a way to subdue the Skinwalkers."

Skinwalkers? Did I hear that right? This is the first I've heard of such a thing. There's no way Markee would know anything about the Outlander's enemies.

"I will set up a conference with him for you tomorrow at first light," the man offers. "It is the best I can do."

I turn to Sol, hoping she will protest that we have to speak with him now. I have to see Markee now. But her eyes seem to be focused on something far away, and I know that right now, I cannot win.

Sol says her goodbyes and we depart, leaving the old building in the dark. She is notably silent as we walk down the narrow streets, and something about the silence this time bothers me.

"Where are we going?" I ask, mostly to fill the lull. Sol seems to snap out of her blind focus, and I'm once again stunned by her next revelation.

"We are going to meet my sons."