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“A butterfly,” I whisper, suddenly feeling so emotional that a tear tracks down my cheek. The little insect simply rests on my hand while its brilliant orange wings flutter open and closed.

I look up at Dair, overcome with amazement, but more fluttering in my periphery catches my attention, and I quickly look over to see dozens of butterflies flitting from flower to flower in a beautifully intricate, floaty dance.

I’ve studied insects in Soline’s textbooks, but I’ve only seen mundane insects like flies, the bees Josef keeps to pollinate the gardens, and the occasional tick. Soline told us that it was assumed most of the specialized insects on the planet died off, leaving only those that can easily survive in hardship. Yet, here is a whole field of beautiful butterflies surviving despite the ugliness of this world.

I can’t help the overwhelming flood of emotions I feel just from witnessing these tiny miracles while my alphas watch at my sides. We stand there for as long as the butterfly wants to rest on my hand, and when it finally flies off to join the others, we wait a few moments more, taking the world in as the tears dry on my cheeks.

I continue to hum songs to the plants when we start again, just in case there’s a butterfly somewhere listening.

[ 38 ]

DAIR

The Great River

Ican hear the gentle flow of the river about three miles off, so I motion for us to take a rest near a rather large rock. There are no trees here, leaving us in the open, but I would rather we eat now so that we don’t have to open our packs aboard whichever boat we hire. The less people know about us, the better.

I divide up what’s left of the jerky I brought from home while Ferris tops off everyone’s water bottles with the store he keeps in his own pack. Luckily, we will be able to stock up on water once we reach the other side of the river. I plan on letting us rest a full day before moving on, but I’m worried about what food we have left. I will need to start hunting daily to make sure that we all get enough protein to keep our muscles powered, but the trouble is, we’re nearing the Wastes and game meat will become sparse.

Raine breaks me from my planning with a question. She absently tears her strip of jerky apart and asks, “How exactly do we cross the Great River?”

“Well, before the continental ice melted, the river was a little less than a mile wide here when it wasn’t flooded. Now, it’s more than ten miles wide and nearly forty feet deep, maybe deeper in the middle. Just another few hours south, and it’s impassable due to its width alone. To cross, we’re going to have to bargain for passage on a boat.”

“Are there truly just people on the bank hoping that someone will need a ride across the river?” Ferris asks while packing everything up.

“Not exactly,” I say. “You’ll have to see for yourself.”

The settlement appears on the horizon as a speck at first but gradually grows the closer we get. From this distance, it almost looks like a city, with towering, stilted buildings sticking up from the water.

“What is this?” Raine asks, bewildered.

“The place where the ancestors of those displaced by the river have come together to make a community. They built on top of the town that flooded when the river rose. Some parts are above the river, raised on giant logs, while other parts float on the river itself.”

“Inventive,” Ferris remarks.

“What can we possibly offer these people for payment?” Raine asks, her scent sharpening with anxiety.

“It depends on the captain we’re able to hire. Not all boats will be available because the majority of their fleet is dedicated to fishing.” Raine nods and reaches her hand out to grab mine.

A woman meets us at the outskirts of the village. She’s pale and tall with lean muscles, her brown hair tied up in a cloth, and studies us with skeptical, dark eyes. It doesn’t escape our attention that she’s got a rifle strapped to her back, too. “What’s your business here?” she calls out.

“We’re looking for passage,” I reply. “Are there any captains available?”

“Let me smell ya,” she replies, and we walk closer for our scents to carry toward her. This close, her scent also drifts toward us, revealing that she’s a beta. As her nostrils flare, her eyes sharpen on Raine. “You,” the woman directs at her, “you here of your own volition?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Raine replies smoothly. “These are my alphas, and we’re just trying to get home.”

“Y’all bonded?” she asks, and I can feel the energy shifting in the air.

“I just passed through here a week ago with an omega from my territory and no one asked questions,” I reply.

“Well, that was a week ago,” she spits, narrowing her gaze on me. “Where is that omega, anyhow? Just three days ago we had someone come through here trying to make off with a whole group of omegas, so I ain’t taking any chances.”

Before I can argue, Raine pulls down the collar of her jacket, revealing her bond mark. “I’m claimed,” she tells the woman.

The woman doesn’t seem all too happy, but she ultimately nods and gestures for us to follow her to the docks. As we walk down the floating planks, she explains, “Most of the captains are downriver fishing. The schools are shifting south as the weather changes. The river may not get ice this far south anymore, but that kinda migration is ingrained in their ancestral knowledge, ya know?”

Oddly enough, I do understand because the wild salmon back home have their own collection of instinctual migration habits, but I don’t say that. I’d rather these folks not know exactly where we’re headed.