Wes focuses on me. "Going back to Finn – Lynn, it was his first time and your dislike of Finn isn't exactly a secret."

"Are you saying that I left him behind on purpose?" I say incredulously. 

"I'm saying that your concern for Finn is lessened by your disapproval of his being in the crew and that may have affected how pressed you felt to find him."

"That's not true." Maybe a little true. I brush the thought aside. "Besides, even if I did do it purposefully, it's not as if he has a significant part here."

"We're not an angelic crew, Lynn, but we watch each other's backs. You know the rules – unless you sell us out or kill one of your own, as long as you have a role, you're in. As leader, I have to enforce those rules. Everyone here pulls their weight." Wes pauses. "And you did bring Emora along with you, and that affects us. Especially now that she's in no state to be of use."

"Don't you dare," I growl. "She's helped you and countless others all over Dela. I do enough for both of us and more. I'm one of the biggest contributors in the Pits and you know it."

"That's why you're second in command." He regards me coolly. "Only the ones who prove they deserve that much power and say receive it. All I mean is we keep Emora and watch for her because she's a part of the crew. Just like Finn."

Darren steps forward. "Speaking of punishments, Lynn slapped me."

I glance down at my hand and barely repress a shudder. I'm not supposed to, I'm not supposed to. I broke the rule. I'm not supposed to.

Sera yanks Darren back, surprisingly strong with a broken leg and leaning on a crutch. "Don't blame her, Wes. Darren deserved it. If it she didn't do it, I would've." Around the room, there are murmurs of agreement and hostile looks directed at Darren. His claims about Wes and I are a severe show of disrespect. We hold the highest positions without any objections or disapproval voiced – besides Darren and the occasional Finn. Not a single person tolerates the kind of behavior Darren has been guilty of lately.

Wes nods at Sera. He doesn't ask what Darren said; he never needs details of offenses, just enough to know if it was justified. "You provoked her, she reacted. You're even."

Wes turns to me. "Concerning what happened with you and Finn earlier, you've got stables tomorrow. They're to be spotless and you're grooming the horses, too."

I nod stiffly at the task he's assigned me as punishment but bite my lip. If he knows that the thought of me spending the morning with the horses wouldn't actually be unpleasant, he'd give me something else. My annoyance is fueled by the fact that I'm required to do so as a consequence for that weasel's cowardly behavior.

"It's the end of the week, everyone. You know what that means: Pits night. We leave in one hour." Wes dismisses the crew. He looks at me, his expression showing he already knows what I'm about to ask.

"How is she?"

"Not good," he says. "Kaya's been with her since I left. Go see her now – you've got an hour."

I don't expect Wes to allow me more time than the others or skip tonight for the fourth week in a row. Despite my rank, I'm the same as everyone else. As is he.

I take the wooden steps two at a time. Out of the five upper stories for bedrooms and offices and such, I stop at the first floor, where I'm assigned. Sprinting down the dim passage, I slow down at the room at the end of the hall and gently open the door.

Gazing at the four empty spaces where beds used to be, my eyes land on the single one remains. Sitting perpendicular to the bed is the hair where most of the past few months' nights have been spent. Currently, Kaya occupies the seat. A few fire-lit lanterns dot the room – the regular ceiling lights have been deemed too harsh. A lamp rests on the small table beside Kaya as she administers medicine to the woman on the bed. Kaya doesn't seem to notice me when I come up next to her. She caps off the bottle of medication and sets it on the table.

Kaya stands and looks to me, her grey eyes troubled. She tucks a lock of sleek raven hair that she refuses to put up behind her ear. "Cara –" My eyes flick to the door I left open, ensuring no one's there. Kaya is one of the few who know my real name, or at least the full version. I've never been able to tell anyone else. It just doesn't feel right.

She steps away from the bed, allowing me to edge closer to it. "Nona?" I whisper. The old woman doesn't open her eyes.

I glance at Kaya, hoping for an uplifting update, but she shakes her head. "She's been like this all day. She wakes up for a few minutes, but she's unresponsive. She'll take down food and water but doesn't do much except for stare at the wall. She sleeps more than usual these days, so maybe her body is trying to recover. Otherwise, I really don't know."

"She's been sick for months now," I say softly. "Since the end of winter."

I think back to the day when Nona became sick. It was a Loading Day and the snow had begun to melt. I opened the door to Wes standing by it. He was waiting for me. I remember him telling me that Kaya needed me for something urgent upstairs. I bolted up to our room and found Nona on the ground. Kaya was kneeling beside her with tears in her eyes. She had told Wes not to move Nona until I got there. The two of us lifted Nona into bed.

The fear and worry I felt that day as I watched her fall in and out of consciousness has barely dulled. She had fevers that continue to rage every few days, and strange welts that have yet to fade appeared on her body. The other beds were removed in the worries that Nona's sickness was contagious. Even after we determined it wasn't, we didn't bring the beds back in.

There's a knock and Kaya and I turn. Wes leans against the doorway. "I came to see how Emora was doing. Anything?"

"Nothing." The answer kills me.

"Damn." Nona means something to Wes, too.

It's hard to forget the day I first came to the crew four years ago, barely convincing them to allow Nona in with me. Wes was in a dark place. It was hard to overlook the fresh gash on his face and didn't look good. I don't know what happened to him or what he was going through, but somehow, Nona got through to him. She cleaned and tended to the slash in his face and it faded into his trademark scar. She tried to talk with him, despite his initial reluctance. Eventually, he came to her and they had more closed-door discussions. Little by little, Wes's rough and frightening demeanor chipped away, and he became more approachable.

"Kaya, can I talk to you for a few minutes?" Wes asks hesitantly. A hint of red creeps up his neck and it's an unusual sight. Wes, nervous and embarrassed.

Kaya glances at Nona, then at me. I push her forward. "Go. She seems fine for now. I'll yell if I need you."

She nods and follows Wes out the door.

I sink into the chair. With a start, I realize that it's no longer the hard, wooden seat that I've sat in for hours through the night. It's been switched to a softer, relatively comfortable chair. When did that happen?

I study Nona's face. It's easy to see she was beautiful when she was young. High cheekbones, still prominent beneath wrinkled skin. The corners of her ever-smiling lips tilt upwards even in sleep, hinting at her easy grin. I don't see much of her brown eyes anymore, the same color as the hazelnut brownies she used to bake. Nona's eyes were bright and kind. Now, in the rare moments she's awake, her eyes are dull and lifeless. It's terrifying.

Her white hair has come undone from its braided crown. From the moment I met Nona, back when streaks of flaming red shot through her white hair, she has always worn that same braid. In the occasional moments she let it fall, her hair fell in straight, long locks that have never thinned, despite her age. Since the day she's fallen sick, I've taken it upon myself to keep her hair as she always did. I can't bear to see another part of her fade away, even if it's something as simple as her hair.

As I plait, a memory that's recurred many times since Nona's been bed ridden surfaces.

Nona found me days after I had left the orphanage. I had barely eaten anything since then, only what meager scraps I could find in the trash. I lived in a small crate off the side of the road, with many of the wooden planks broken off. I remember the pouring rain that day and how the water pummeled me through the openings of the crate. Out of nowhere, an apple rolled on the ground a few feet away from me and I raced for it. My injured arm screamed, but days without food had left me starved and I ignored the pain. I looked up at the owner of the apple. It was an old woman.

She didn't yell at me or tell me to scram as most people did when they saw me going for spare pieces of food they had left. She simply observed as I took the fruit and scrambled back to the box. I finished the apple so fast, it was as if it hadn't been there in the first place. A few minutes later, an apple was placed in front of me. I peered out of the crate and saw the old woman smiling down at me. "Go on," she said. "Take it."

I was wary of the stranger offering me food. No one around those parts gave up anything without good reason. Hunger beat out skepticism and I grabbed the apple. The old woman watched me as I quickly finished it. The woman stayed where she was, oblivious to the rain. I didn't know what to make of her. Did she want something from me in return for the fruit? Then she spoke.

"Do you want to come home with me? I don't live far, and it's warm. I have plenty of food. And that arm of yours must be hurting you."

My left arm still hung limp by my side. I didn't know what to do about it, so I just left it as it was and hoped I would be able to find a way to fix it. Despite the woman's offer, I was hesitant. What if she led me to someplace worse than the orphanage? What if she turned out to be like the old caretaker? I saw too many times how Ms. Elodie was able to switch personalities in the blink of an eye, and this old woman could be the same.

I stared at the woman and she held out her hand. I looked into her eyes and saw that they were kind and warm. The one thing that Ms. Elodie could never manage, despite the ease with which she could alter her features and words, was hiding the selfish, cruel glint in her eyes. It was that realization that made me take the woman's hand and accompany her.

She insisted I call her "Nona", as she didn't have any grandkids. At least ones that she knew of. It took some time, but I relented, and the name became natural. As the years passed, Nona and I grew closer. Neither of us had anyone. She had children and they sent her enough money, but they never bothered to see her. She became like a mother to me when I didn't even know my birth mother. She became my world.

A tear slips down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away. Don't cry. I silently berate myself. Crying won't do anything. Besides, she's not gone. She's still here. She'll get better.

She has to.

I secure the last lock of hair with a pin as Kaya walks in, her face a concerned expression. "Wes told me there was a Transfer earlier... and the deaths."

"It was awful, Kaya." I say. I would never tell anyone other than Kaya what it was really like during the Transfer. How terrifying it all was. How it felt like reliving a nightmare. "The whole day was insane. I've never seen anything like the things that happened today."

I can tell she knows there's more to the story than what I told the rest of the crew in her suspicious gaze and furrowed brows. It's near impossible to keep something from her. She doesn't press me for more details, though. She always allows me to speak only as much as I feel comfortable with. Concerning Kaya, that's just about everything.

As we walk to our room a few doors away, I tell her everything that happened. She pales as I explain the smoke and it's effect on the people. How it didn't seem to bother the guards and they patrolled the area as if nothing was wrong. How Finn didn't see the raging mob. Kaya rubs the back of her neck, a tic that occurs whenever she's nervous or stressed.

"I don't know why I didn't react to the smoke like everyone else did." I say. "But wherever my skin came into contact with it, it looked and felt like the smoke burned me. The reaction faded right before I got here, though. Once the smoke cleared, everyone went back to normal, as if nothing happened. Do you think I hallucinated it?"

Kaya quickly shakes her head. "No. No, you didn't imagine it." She says almost desperately. Why is she so concerned with me believing my own eyes? "If it wasn't real, your skin wouldn't have been like that. Do you know why it appeared?"

"Well," I say hesitantly. I could easily be wrong; the white liquid wasn't new. But it came from nowhere, and we're always told how costly Transfer procedures and equipment is. Why else would it be thrown carelessly on the ground? "Right after the smoke cleared, I found the girl that ended up as a Transfer on the ground wrapped in vines and roots. There was a vial of the stuff they inject into Transfers to force them to reveal their abilities shattered on the ground near her. What if... what if the Aurelians somehow changed it up so that it created the smoke to force the girl's powers to work against her, but it makes Standards act out violently."

Kaya takes in my assumptions. "You could be right," she doesn't dismiss it. "They do have the means to do so, with all their advancements and technology. It would make it much easier for them to find Transfers," she says in a small voice.

Hatred surges up my throat. It'd make it much easier for them to rip children away from their families. But hate wars with twisted logic. Standards have seen the mad Relicts dragged into the square by chains around their neck. They claw at the ground and tear their hair out by the roots, screaming and eyes rolling back into their heads, only to rise moments later all the more crazed.

I don't voice those conflicted thoughts. Instead, I reveal another one. "But if the rest of the Standards were raging, why weren't the guards like that?" In a quieter voice, "Why wasn't I?"

Kaya's eyes fill with sympathy and concern. "I don't know why you weren't affected, Cara, or why you were able to see the smoke and Finn wasn't. Maybe the guards were given some sort of repellant to protect them from the effects, but I'm not sure."

"I still don't know what to make of all of this." I run a hand through my hair, the brown waves tangling halfway through. "The newsreels don't leave out any details about them and how the executions go. But after today, after all the insanity and revelations...what if there's more to it?"

"Revelations?" Kaya tilts her head.

I nearly forgot about the mother's odd speech. In all the chaos, it slipped my mind. "The Transfer's mother went on this tirade about how they've destroyed everything and massacred all of these unknown people."

Kaya's eyes widen, and her hand goes to the back of her neck again. "Did she say what kind of people?" She says slowly.

"No, just that everyone would soon know everything, and children wouldn't be taken away anymore."

Kaya doesn't meet my eyes and stares at the wall past me.

"What if the woman meant more than that?" What if Relicts aren't really dangerous?"

"Cara, you go back and forth between Relicts' true stability a lot. Are you really sure about this?"

"No one's seen a Relict outside of the executions and all that anyone sees is the few moments before their ramblings turn into screams. There could be more to the Transfers that we don't know."

"Like what?" She snaps.

I start. Kaya never loses her temper or raises her voice.

Her eyes widen at her own sudden outburst. "Oh God, Cara, I'm so sorry."

"Kaya, what's wrong?"

Her eyes flick to the door of the room occupied by Bryn, Kaya, and I. She doesn't answer right away. "It's Bryn." She says softly.

I grab her arm. "What is it? Is she hurt?"

"She...there's..." she stumbles over the words. "It's better if I show you." She finally says.

Kaya's hands perform a knocking sequence. Since when has she done that? Then there's the telling sound of the door unlocking. I frown. We never lock the door. The knob turns, and the door swings open to Kaya's sister.

"Cara!" Bryn squeals and wraps her arms around my legs. I smile and bend down to hug her. Bryn is all that's left of Kaya's family after they were attacked while traveling to Dela a few years ago.

I reach into my pocket and take out the black box I got from Old Man Roe. "Do you know what day it is?"

"My birthday!" she crows.

"That's right. And what do people get on their birthdays?"

Bryn scrunches her face in thought. Then she brightens. "A zebra!"

I pause. "Wait, wha – a zebra?" I look up at Kaya. "What kind of books have you been showing her?" I accuse.

Kaya raises her hands in surrender. "Don't look at me. The only zebras I've shown her are in that animal book."

I look back to Bryn. "Uh, no, not a zebra. A present."

"A present that's a zebra!" She cheers.

"What? Okay, I am officially taking charge of the people and books you're around." I can't help but laugh at her imagination. "It's no zebra, but hopefully it's not too bad." I open the box and lift the bracelet. Kaya gasps, as does Bryn. I take Bryn's arm and fasten the bracelet around her wrist.

Kaya crouches beside me and angles her sister's wrist, studying the chain. "It's beautiful." She breathes.