There is a woman standing before me. Her hair is a tawny brown, mirroring the young girl's standing beside her, except for the streaks of gray weaving through the long locks. Her face is gentle, but her eyes tell me that she's seen her fair share of hardship. Her wary gaze travels over me and settles on my face as I open my mouth to speak.

"I... eed... your elp," I croak. I hadn't spoken since my encounter with the hunter. It was difficult for my parched throat to form words then, but booking it to the village to arrive before sundown drained me. I force my dry tongue to swallow, and open my mouth to try the words again, but my voice comes out even more hoarse.

Not knowing what else to do, I hold my hands up in surrender. I can see some of the tension in the woman's shoulders dissipate. I'm relieved that my half-words and gestures helped her to understand that I'm not a threat. Like a physical weight lifted off my limbs, I feel light-headed.

"Come inside, child. You are thirsty," the woman says, stepping aside to allow me through the door.

The interior of the hut is very warm. It makes my already hot skin tingle. I see a wooden table and chairs in what must be the kitchen/dining area. Though I'm not sure if "kitchen" is the appropriate term since there is so sink or refrigerator, only an open-door pantry storing dry goods. Walking over to the table, I startle when I feel a soft breeze. I look up to see that above the table is a woven span of straw mounted on a hinge, swinging back and forth. There is a rope attached to it and my eyes follow it out the open window and to a crank being turned by flowing water.

Something jolts in my mind. Everything here is so... primitive. The oil lamp on the table, the thickly-woven table cloth it sits on, the table and chairs in need of a good sanding, and the makeshift fan. I remember my Early Herald History textbook called it a punkah. That was before, when Herald was a great nation united.

The air feels so good on my burning skin.

I drop my eyes back to the ground and my head spins. I suddenly feel the need to sit down. I turn around to ask the woman if I may sit, and dizziness overcomes me.

Something hard bites into my temple. I open my eyes and see the wooden floorboards under my cheek. When did I get on the ground? I blink and roll over to see worry in the woman's big eyes. Her fingers are pressing something cool to my lips. She slips her hand under my neck, coaxing me from the floor, but the heavy weight dragging my head back down is too much. All I can manage is a few sips before exhaustion takes over me and I pass out in the middle of a stranger's kitchen floor.

◊ ◊ ◊

Opening my eyes this time is a lot harder. Its as if there are tiny sandbags holding my eyes shut. I give in to the comfortable weight and focus on my other senses. There is a softness beneath my head, and a warmth covering me from my chest down. I must have been tucked into bed.

I feel guilty for intruding. I've showed up unannounced, passed out on some woman's floor, and if that wasn't trouble enough, I'm now occupying a bed that doesn't belong to me.

"When will she wake up, Momma?" the young girl's voice drifts to me from across the room.

I try again to open my eyes, and this time I succeed. My eyes follow the beams along the ceiling to the wall opposite me, where the girl watching the woman as she sits in an old wooden rocking chair. Something colorful is draped across her lap. Her hands move deftly, tying strips of fabric into knots to make a blanket of some sorts. Or maybe it's a rug. Her hands pause and my eyes flick up to meet hers.

Caught awake, I begin to sit up. The girl's head whips around at my movement, eyes wide. As soon as she catches my gaze, she bolts from the room.

She's timid as a hare, and just as quick.

For fun, Rhett and I would run around the forest, chasing rabbits into their holes. He'd always know just where they would be hiding. It's no wonder why he was placed as a Hunter. We'd stay out all day, just to tally up who could find the most. When it would get too late for the rabbits, we'd move on to birds. One would sing its song and whoever would name the species just from its song first won. In the woods with Rhett, there was always something to entertain.

The woman nods beside me, and I notice a ceramic cup sitting at the bedside. Water. I down it, thinking too late to check for poison. I shouldn't expect too much kindness in the Outlands.

The instant the liquid hits my tongue, I feel better. Thirst is the creature that sneaks up on you, choking you a little at a time so that you don't even notice you're dehydrated until it's too late. Then it's torture; our bodies are sixty-percent water, yet it cannot survive without having more. Always more.

Once my immense thirst is resolved, I realize the girl's mother has left. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and tip-toe to the open door, but jump back abruptly when she returns with a wooden tray of something that smells so savory, my stomach actually growls. I realize I haven't eaten all day, since I left my house almost twelve hours ago.

"Thank you," I say softly as she hands me the meal, "but I was wondering if you could help me find my friend."

"Yes, yes. You can explain everything after you put food in your belly." The woman sits on the pallet I just woke up from.

"I appreciate it, but I really need your help.," I sit beside her. "My name is Sophie Carson and--"

"It's rude to deny food from your hostess on this side of the wall," she says, not the least bit offended. I have a feeling she's giving me a useful skill for my journey that's just begun.

I close my mouth, chastened, and begin eating.

The dish is warm and rich. There is a little bowl of seasoned rice, and some kind of squash. On a separate plate lies a sweet potato, split open and oozing with butter and cinnamon. Despite my nerves, I scarf it down as if I hadn't eaten in days.

"Sophie, is it? My name is Sol. I am the clan mother." She watches my reaction as I chew and swallow, gauging my reaction for understanding. It is clear that she knows I am from Herald, I am surprised, but grateful that she would take such care of an outsider. When I don't show any obvious signs of confusion, she continues.

"We here are a part of Natio, what your people call the Outlands." I almost choke. Though I can sense no hostility in the word, it's awkward hearing it from an Outlander's mouth.

When I swallow my last bite of rice, and she is satisfied with my empty plates, she takes the tray from me. I follow her into the kitchen.

"Hazel," she calls, and the girl pops her head inside. "Fetch another pail of water from the mill, please." Hazel takes off through the front door and the woman places the dirty dishes in a large wooden tub.

"Thank you for the meal," I say gratefully. She graces me with a smile.

"You mentioned you were looking for your friend. Tell me what happened."

I want to trust this woman. She has taken me into her home, fed me, and let me rest. She has almost completely dissolved my apprehension toward the Outlanders I've met so far today. But to describe what happened? I'm worried my resolve will shatter once I relive today. As if she senses my hesitancy, she reassures me.

"You have nothing to fear from me, child."

She waits patiently until I am ready to speak.

So I do.

I tell her about the Outlanders in Herald, how there was so much fighting. I tell her how Markee was swiped and taken by one of her people. I tell her how I feared I would never see her again and how I followed her captor over the wall, only to get lost. I mention the Outlander with the bow, and how he directed me here, where I ended up at her door dehydrated and on the verge of exhaustion.

"I don't know why they took her, or where they might have taken her, but I have to get to her," I finish. Sol puts a hand on top of mine, but instead of pity, I feel understanding from her. It's a lot warmer than I expected.

"We heard rumors that the Summus was looking for a particular urbanite," Sol tells me. "I suppose those were not merely rumors."

"The Summus?" I question. Sol gives me a sympathetic smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Summus Aspen. To you, he would be the equivalent of president, or king. Is that not what you have in your walled city?"

"No, we have a council of leaders who decide how to govern Herald." It's been that way since my great-grandmother's time.

Sol takes this information in stride. "You will have to forgive me, we do not communicate much with your people."

I grin. "You and me both." But her words lodge themselves between my ribs. "Why would your leader--the Summus--what could he want with Markee?"

Sol ponders this, taking time with her reply. "This I am not sure of. I have some suspicions, but I am not certain."

I process this, worry for Markee flaring up. If the Outlander's Summus wants Markee for something, it can't be anything good. Dread wells up and seeps into my bones. I have to find out what Sol knows, or I may never be able to reach Markee.

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