Jaron abandons Luca's side and strides towards the bulky carcass. He kicks at it, tilting his head and furrowing his brow as he circles the animal. I kneel beside him, reaching out to touch the metal gear protruding from its chest.

"It is the same as the others, is it not?" Jaron says.

"More teeth." I reply, wiping my goo-covered hand on my thigh. My heart still races from seeing Luca lie motionless and I exhale through my nose in an attempt to calm myself.

"What manner of beast is this?" Jaron lifts the animal's lip, examining its incisors.

"A lion." One of the Wasters speaks up. "Rarely seen in these parts but there have been rumours of their numbers increasing in the North."

"And are they known to attack unprovoked?" I ask.

"Never."

"Then it's safe to assume that the Madam has modified their behaviour." I devise, grimacing. "Although, this elegant accessory could have told us that."

"There will be more." Jaron remarks as he scans the horizon. "We should keep moving."

"In a moment." Luca joins us, a dagger clenched in his fist. "Waste not."

It takes a team of Wasters less than an hour to skin and dress the gigantic lion. We load several heavy, choice cuts onto a cart and send a couple men to deliver the food back to the City. I eye the strange, pink meat warily. Knowing that until recently the food existed as a terrifying, snarling monster fills me with revulsion. Still, food is food.

As the others prepare to leave, I linger a few moments longer by the remains. The giant gear rests on its side, coated in the lion's black, sticky blood and glinting in the afternoon sunlight.

My mind flashes to an image of a similar appendage bursting through Will's chest, smaller than the one before me but unsettling just the same. I shudder, thinking of the Madam's scientists in their pristine white coats, hunched over their victims as they graft cruel mechanical implements to their bodies. Does Will realize what's happened to him? Is there still some semblance of the man I loved trapped inside?

"What are you thinking?" Luca appears beside me and I jump, jerked free of my imagination.

"This gear." I turn over the hunk of machinery. "It's more sophisticated than the others. The Madam is improving her skills."

"Then we will have to improve ours." Luca replies.

I nod, biting down hard on my lip. "What kind of power does someone have to wield in order to capture a lion and turn it into one of these... things?"

"Do not tell me that you are doubting us." Luca says, keeping his tone light. "I did not just throw myself beneath a demon for you to give up at the first impasse."

A snort escapes me. "Who said anything about giving up."

"That is more like it." Luca says. His gaze falls to my shoulder and he frowns. "You are hurt."

I follow his eyeline, for the first time noticing the splotch of blood darkening my tunic. I touch the wound lightly and wince.

"Come on." Luca inclines his head. "Let us both get cleaned up. We must look our best for when we meet the Madam."

"Luca," I say, letting him lead me back towards the group. "You really saved me back there."

"Oh, have we begun keeping score, again?"

"No." I suppress a grin. "I guess I mean to say thanks."

"It was not a favour." Luca says sternly. "I will need you to keep me alive at some point in the future. I am selfish, you see."

"Right, of course." I say. "I'll keep that in mind."

As I watch Luca stride silently ahead of me, I clutch my shoulder and wonder vaguely why my heartbeat still hasn't returned to normal.

* * * * *

"To the South." Someone calls out. We squint in the direction the Waster scout indicates, catching sight of the vague black shadow dotting the base of a distant dune.

"Change course." Jaron instructs and I release a sigh, my feet dragging as I trail the group on yet another detour.

The Mech beast sightings have become more and more frequent as we draw closer to Babel, the monsters sometimes travelling in groups of twos or threes. Having to continually change course in order to avoid them has put us days behind schedule; I can't shake the feeling that we will be stuck circling the dome for the next thousand years.

I increase my pace, scurrying to catch up with Jaron's long strides.

"Can you tell me precisely how long you intend to avoid confrontation for?" I ask, mumbling the question under my breath so that the troops won't hear.

Jaron glances back over his shoulder, then pulls me to the side, waving the rest of the Wasters on ahead.

"Have you any better ideas?" He asks, once we're out of earshot. "I will not risk the lives of my warriors unnecessarily. We still do not know what awaits us in Babel."

"Babel is the least of our worries, since we'll never get there at the rate we're going." I roll my shoulders back and meet his eyeline.

Jaron's face reddens. "You would do well to care more for your fellow soldiers, Runner."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"We lost nine people in that explosion at the outpost. Nine men and women never to be seen by their families again, and I did not see you shed a single tear at the funeral pyre."

I nearly stumble at the the accusation but manage to hold my ground. "I don't need to cry in order to feel something. Your cheeks weren't exactly soaked either, Chief."

Jaron steps closer, his impressive height blocking the sun. "Twist my words all you like. At least I understand the difference between people and commodities."

"You think I'm heartless, is that it?" I demand.

"The opposite. I think that your heart blinds you to reason." Jaron glances over his shoulder, assuring himself that the troops can't hear the fight brewing between their supposedly fearless leaders. "I know why you are really here."

The rushing of blood fills my ears. "I'm here for the same reason you are. To destroy the Madam and exact revenge for what she's taken from us."

"That may be a part of it, but you also believe that the Commander still lives."

The thundering in my head turns deafening and I have to fight to keep myself from shouting over it. "Meg told you."

"Yes."

I rub my temples, pressing hard as though I could force the rage back inside. "She had no right."

"Megra was not in the wrong. It was you who promised not to lie to me." Jaron's calm tone borders on danger.

"I didn't lie." I thrust my chin up. "Whether or not I believe Will is out there makes no difference. We still want the same thing. Besides," I challenge. "If you thought I was so untrustworthy, then why would you break with the City and join with me?"

Jaron's dark eyes flash.

"I'll tell you why." I cut in before he can speak. "You need me. Without my influence, without my army, you don't stand a chance against the Madam."

The Waster chief bristles, his huge hands balling into fists. "Tread lightly, Runner. You do not stand much of chance without me, either."

"Maybe not." I reply. "But I think we both know that I'm delusionally bullheaded enough to have a go at it, anyway."

Jaron's beard twitches and I raise my eyebrows. He stares at me for a long, hard moment before unfurling his fingers and uttering a growl of resignation.

"Yes, I believe that you would." He grumbles.

The corner of my mouth lifts. "So, where do we go from here?"

"I think that you may be right." Jaron looks to the East, his expression as distant as the dome. "Those mechanical beasts are stationed around the entirety of Babel. We cannot get close without engaging them."

"Then we have to find another way past." I frown up at the sky. "We could take an airship."

"No." Jaron shakes his head firmly. "The airships belong to Megra. She does not wish to be a part of this war, and we will respect her choice."

All those airships, sitting useless and dormant in the City hangar when they could be soaring free across the sky. I briefly consider overriding Jaron's demand but opt to concede this point to the chief; if he believes that relinquishing the ships will help him remain in Meg's good graces, then I shouldn't stand in his way.

That is, until Jaron's good intentions get in the way of mine.

"Well then, if we can't fight our way past the creatures and we can't fly over them," I raise my brows. "Then what does that leave? Do we have to dig a tunnel beneath them?"

Jaron opens his mouth to reply when he is interrupted by a sudden, terrified shriek.

We break into a sprint, catching up with the troops mere seconds later. The Wasters are already crouched in defensive positions with Luca at their head, his posture rigid as he stares toward the source of the scream.

Clouds of sand spring up from the horizon. I squint, at the same time reaching for the bow at my back. The dust clears, shoring us two mechanical lions thundering across the plains and converging on a pile of dead brush.

Another shriek and my heart plummets. Someone's out there.

"Jaron." Luca's shoulders are pointed towards the fight, his voice strained. "What should we do?"

"It could be a trap." Jaron grunts. "We move out."

My chest tightens further. I stare past the point of my arrow, watching the lions scrabble madly at the foot of a dead tree. The tree shakes violently beneath their claws and lilts dangerously to the side. Straining my ears, I can barely make out a single, gut-wrenching sob.

"We should help." I hear myself say.

Jaron's head whips towards me.

"We can't avoid them forever." I continue, sensing an opportunity. My eyes dart to the mountainous dune looming behind the lions. "This could be our way in."

"Taking on two beasts is suicide. We barely managed to defeat a solitary one." Jaron points out. "We do not even know the manner of the woman in danger."

"We know that she's a person and not a commodity." I throw his words back in his face. "Besides, I have an idea. Luca," I call out to the former Hunter. "The dune."

Immediately catching onto my meaning, Luca nods sharply. "Yes, I believe it will work. Brother, I will need your shield."

It takes us barely a minute to explain our plan to Jaron. He begrudgingly grants his consent and directs the troops to trade their weapons for war drums, hanging back until Luca and I have gained a sizeable lead.

"Do you really think this will work?" I ask Luca, exhaling ragged breaths as we run.

"It has before, against the Mech Enforcers." He pauses. "Once."

I fire an arrow as soon as the lions are within range. My arrow buries itself deep in one of their flanks, causing the lion to rear up on his hindquarters and release a deafening roar. At once, both animals abandon the unfortunate woman dangling from the tree and tear towards Luca and I, ripping up the pellets of sand beneath their murderous claws.

"Here we go." I mutter.

Luca shoots two arrows at once, striking the second lion in the head and shoulder. I don't bother to watch its reaction as I turn and run as fast as I can for the dune, Luca on my heels. Together, we round the base of the mountain, conscious of keeping ourselves within sight of our mechanical pursuers. It isn't difficult; the animals are easily twice as fast as the Mech Enforcers.

I can sense the hot breath of the monsters at our backs and fairly feel the saliva dripping from their fangs. I am about to chance a glance back over my shoulder when I finally hear it: the steady thrumming of the war drums.

Luca and I immediately alter our course, leaping for the dune and scrambling up it. The fine pellets slip between my fingers as I clamber higher, striving for the ball of light shining up above. The drums beat louder and louder, the thudding urging us onwards. Something snaps at my foot and I kick back reflexively, spraying sand into the lion's eyes. Another furious roar coats my legs in drool and gods know what else. I reach up and Luca tugs me higher, out of reach of the gnashing teeth.

Louder. I think. They have to drum louder.

As if on cue, the Wasters increase their tune in double-time, pounding the drums with a ferocity that rivals the monsters chasing us up the dune. The mountain begins to shudder, the grains of sand shaking loose of the slope.

Louder.

Chasms begin to form in the unstable hill. I jump to the side, narrowly avoiding a heavy river of cascading sand.

Louder.

The drums turn to thunder and the dune finally collapses. I brace myself against what little surface remains and throw myself into the air, slinging the shield out from under my shoulder and landing unsteadily on top of it, balancing upon an avalanche of sand.

I catch a glimpse of Luca surfing alongside me, his face pinched tightly in concentration. We are propelled towards the ground at a breakneck pace while the treacherous surface below our shields threatens to pull us under. The lions stumble, scrabbling desperately for purchase as they drown beneath the sand's crushing weight. Tufts of oily black fur pass us by when suddenly a single great, clawed foot explodes from the flood and swipes against Luca's leg.

He careens backwards, falling off his shield and tumbling head over heels before disappearing from view. I grit my teeth and grab my bow, thrusting it as deeply as I can into the landslide.

"Come on." I urge.

Mere moments turn to hours before I feel a single, mighty tug at the opposite end of my bow and pour all my strength into heaving upwards, springing Luca loose. His extra weight causes me to lose my balance and I throw myself free of the slope, pulling him along with me and sending us both crashing into the earth.

Sand fills my lungs and coats my throat. I dig my way to the surface, coughing and choking as daylight once again floods my vision. Luca is hunched over on his hands and knees a few yards away, hacking madly but blessedly alive. I blink the spots of sun from my eyes and stare up at the collapsed dune, half-expecting an enraged Mech beast to burst free. Moments pass and nothing moves, save the odd rivulet of sand tracing a trail down the side of the mountain.

"Kay." Luca crawls towards me, his eyes stark against the sand coating his face. "Are you hurt?"

"No." I extend my hand and allow him to pull me to my feet, stumbling on wobbly legs. "Are you?"

"No." He glances back up the hill. "But my story nearly had a very different ending."

"Good thing you decided to keep me around." I spot the tip of my bow and yank it out of the ground, frowning at the splintered wood.

"I will make you a new one." Luca promises, just as Jaron and the others appear.

The Waster chieftain joins us at the foot of the dune. "It is done?"

"Done like dinner." I shake out my hopelessly tangled hair. "Nice work on the drums."

"Your madness may save us, yet." Jaron shields his eyes against the sun. "And the path to Babel is cleared, for now."

I grin tiredly, for the first time noticing a stranger in our midst. A petite woman stands flanked by the Wasters, her hair and clothes in disarray. Despite a haggard appearance, the cut and quality of her once-fine outfit betrays a Babelonian heritage.

The woman's eyes dart to me, then stretch wide as her mouth drops open.

"My gods." She breathes. "It's you."