It has become increasingly difficult to keep my mind from wandering as we run. For all its beauty the endless expanse of desert now strikes me as maddeningly unoriginal. Luca and I pass hours upon hours seeing only dry, cracked land, dotted intermittently by nothing more interesting than the odd patch of brush or scattering of rocks.

When the sun reaches its highest point it becomes too hot to run and we tramp into the underbrush, careful to keep our footsteps as soft as possible so that we don't disturb the wildlife.

We select a dried piece of foliage to hide behind and crouch low, Luca swinging his bow out from under his shoulder and notching an arrow. We keep our breaths shallow, eyes darting across the dense thicket, alert to any sounds or movement.

In these moments Luca becomes so still it is as though he were a part of the landscape itself. His nervous energy quells, leaving him solid and sure. His every muscle is tense, his fingers twitching almost imperceptibly against the taut bowstring. It never ceases to amaze me that brash, impatient Luca can suddenly obtain this level of focus. As he releases the arrow and exhales a singular breath it becomes clear that out here, amongst the sand and the dried remnants of nature, Luca is in his element.

He hands the bow to me, sitting back without a word of instruction. I roll my shoulders in an effort to loosen them, striving to adopt Luca's state of calm readiness. I keep the bow lowered, my eyes dancing along the ground until I spot the telltale rustling. Bringing the bow up slowly, I hold the weapon so that it is slightly tilted, feeling as though it is an extension of myself. I ground myself to the earth, eyeing my target, anticipating the next moment, envisioning myself completing an impossible leap.

I release a breath, my fingers unfurling. The arrow flies free, slicing through the air with pure precision and finding its mark, ending the life cleanly.

A grin alights my face and I turn to Luca, smiling broader when I catch his expression. He looks genuinely ecstatic, a look of pride alighting his dark features. We retrieve our meals and settle down to cook them, deliberately making our fire as smoky as possible in the hopes of drawing a ship.

"I don't think our companions would be too pleased if they knew we were deliberately trying to attract attention." I remark as I wring juice free of the raw meat, drenching some brush and tossing it into the flames. There is an ominous cracking and a heavy plume of grey smoke floats into the air.

Luca releases a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "For three days we attempted their strategy. Now, I think it is time to use ours."

I raise a piece of roasted meat to him in agreement, taking a bite and rolling the sweet flavour around in my mouth. For the millionth time I scan the sky, my eyes tracing the horizon until I spot something peculiar sticking out past the brush.

"What is it?" Luca has caught my expression and rises up into a crouch, following my gaze.

"Do you see that?" I ask, squinting into the distance.

He doesn't respond immediately. The object blurs in the harsh sunlight and I blink heavily to clear my vision.

"It it some type of structure." He says. "We should go see."

"Shouldn't we leave a message for Will and Jaron first?"

He is already on his feet, putting out the fire and packing the rest of the cooked meat into sacks of salt. "We left them a note not too far back." He reasons. "Let us go see the structure now. If it is anything of importance we can tell Jaron at the next station."

I spread the ashy remnants of the fire with the toe of my boot, dispersing the embers into the sand. "All right." I decide. "Let's be quick."

We set off at a steady clip, gradually increasing our speed and curving our trajectory so that we hug the dunes. The structure looms closer. It is straight as an arrow, thin and piercing the skin unnaturally. The height of the tower and the desert's illusion of distance means that we are a great deal further from the tube than I thought we would be by the time we draw close enough to stop and observe.

We slow our pace and alter our course so that we remain behind a dune, staring up at the topmost part of the structure, craning our necks at the way it looms above us.

Neither of us says a word, keeping our ears perked to the sound of any activity. Hearing nothing, we exchange a look and creep around the side of the dune, pausing again when we find the base of the tower and scanning the area for anything suspect.

The land is abandoned. The base of the structure is constructed using steel latticework and is rooted to the dusty earth, buried deeply in the sand. We step out from behind the dune and slowly make our way towards the structure, eyes wide in shock as we circle the strange feat of architecture.

I have never seen such great quantities of metal. Each beam is impossibly thick and straight as a pin, colliding and crossing with a hundred more steel rods in a complicated network that stretches up to the sky. I touch my hand tentatively to one of the legs at the base, drawing back when I scorch myself on the sun-baked surface.

Luca stands a ways off, directly beneath the widest part of the tower and gazing up the center of it. I can see his sharp eyes darting across the alien surface, his stance wide as he considers the sight. Unfurling and re-wrapping the strip of leather around my hands I tentatively touch the lattice again, this time managing a firm grip and experimentally pulling myself up a few feet before dropping down to the ground again.

Straightening, I see that Luca has turned to look at me, a look of total bewilderment etched across his features.

I shrug helplessly, blowing out a sigh of exasperation between my teeth as I stare upwards again. This tower must serve some kind of purpose, quite likely to the Madam directly, but for the life of me I could not even venture a guess as to what that would be. I am about to open my mouth to say as much to Luca when he suddenly materializes beside me, grabbing my arm and tugging me back towards the dunes.

In the next instant the airship appears. The great swell of its belly crests the peak of the dune opposite, casting a convex shadow over the mysterious tower and steadily bearing down on us. I curse under my breath and look to the noticeably-paler Luca. His jaw twitches and he mutters something unrecognizable but he reacts quickly enough, touching my elbow to indicate that I should follow him.

We crouch low, holding our breath as we skirt the edges of the dune, keeping our eyes on the ground and turning our earth-coloured backs to the sky. From the corner of my eye I can see the shadow creeping across the sand, drawing ever-closer.

"Do not move." Luca's voice is whisper-soft. I cease my shuffling, willing my heartbeat to slow as I stare fixedly at the wall of sand in front of me, offering a prayer to the gods that our camouflage will be sufficient.

The shadow passes overhead, sliding across our backs and darkening the ground around us. A chill shudders through me and I fight to stay as still as possible, shutting my eyes and quelling the panic I feel at being so exposed. Having always relied on the advantage of height it is maddening to find myself here, trapped on the ground with nothing but the clothes on my back to protect me from the eyes of the enemy passing above.

Our circumstance is remarkably similar to when we were forced to hide below the surface of the water in the oasis. I hold my breath subconsciously, my lungs constricting when the darkness persists. It is only when I have convinced myself that the we have been discovered and that the ship is now readying a descent that the shadow finally disappears. I exhale slowly, the small gust of air disturbing the pellets of sand in front of me.

"Wait." Luca's soft voice breathes. "Let it pass."

We remain pressed against the dune for several more long moments until Luca finally risks glancing over his shoulder at the retreating ship, rotating as slowly as humanly possible. He touches my arm again and we move back around the dune, placing it between us and the ship.

My heart pounds furiously, suddenly so violent that I have to fight the urge to clutch my chest and sink down onto the ground. Instead, I remain with my hands on my knees and forcefully draw great, steadying breaths.

"We need to tell the others." I finally manage, straightening and looking to Luca. He nods wordlessly, for once having nothing to add.

We spin on our heels and tear back across the open expanse of Wasteland, aiming for the tube line. Each step reverberates painfully through my body, shuddering home my anxiety and need for flight. Despite this being the most direct route I am all too aware of how exposed we are and for the first time ever crave the safety of the underground subway line.

I glance over my shoulder, my eyes widening as the airship makes another appearance. It has changed direction and is heading straight for us.

We've been spotted.

"Luca!" I yell, gesturing madly at the ship. We alter our course, swinging back to the side, aiming for the dunes. We push hard, hearts in our throats as we sprint towards the relative cover. I breathe heavily, sand clouding my dry throat. The dunes are too far. We aren't going to make it.

The shadow of the airship creeps closer and something falls to the ground in front of us, landing in a puff of golden sand. There is an ominous hiss, stirring a memory.

I make a wild grab for Luca, tugging him back in the opposite direction and pulling my scarf up over my mouth and nose. The gas canister continues to spew its deadly contents, the heavy cloud spilling and rolling over the flat earth, gathering around our feet and working its way up.

My lungs constrict and I fight the urge to cough, blinking heavily in an effort to ease my burning eyes. Beside me Luca falters and I extend a hand to heave him back upright. The dunes swim in front of us, wavering in the bright light and obstructed by the heavy smoke.

My steps are weighted, as though I am slogging through mud. Each step becomes an impossible burden and I find my mind struggling to focus on a singular task; it is all I can do to remind myself to keep moving forward.

The dunes. Just get to the dunes. Everything will be fine if we can just make it a few more steps.

I glance up, shaking my head in an effort to clear it when I see that the mountains of sand have receded even further into the distance. My lungs are suddenly so constricted that I double over, my feet tangling together and sending me crashing to the ground where I collapse in a fit of coughing.

The smoke washes over my head, drowning me. I am vaguely aware of Luca's hands on my arm, weakly trying to pull me to my feet. Moments later he is down on all fours beside me, hacking furiously.

I try to say something but my mouth feels as though it is stuffed with cotton. I manage to crawl forward a couple of yards before collapsing again, the combination of smoke and sand all-encompassing.

Through my blurred eyes I can make out Luca, stretched out on the ground and unmoving. I reach out a hand to touch him, watching in fascination as the shadow passes over us, the great wooden undercarriage hovering just a few feet over our heads.

My vision swims. I think of Will, offering up a silent apology as the darkness pulls me under. Tumbling headfirst into my nightmares I sink below the sand, my leaden body, once full of strength now betraying me fully. I know that this time there will be no waking up.

My head throbs. There is a shuffling around me, a murmuring of voices as someone kicks up the sand near my face, the sharp pellets biting into my skin. Someone prods my leg, jabbing it painfully. I try to kick out but nothing happens. My body is no longer my own, unresponsive to even my smallest whim. Shafts of light permeate my vision but try as I might I can't make out the figures standing around me, only vaguely aware of dark shadows.

Someone grabs my shoulder and rolls me over. I groan, feeling a million pinpricks all over my skin.

"This one's not quite out." Someone says and I am kicked again.

"She's strong. Good. Get them both on the ship."

I roll my head to the side, fighting to ease my eyes open, sending another painful pulse through my skull. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I register the giant ship docked a few yards off, waiting patiently.

My shoulders are lifted off of the ground and someone begins to drag me towards the ship. I want to protest but my traitor throat is cracked and dry. My limbs are so heavy that I wonder how someone could lift me at all. My skin scrapes over the sand, tearing and bruising. Every second I am painfully aware of drawing closer to the cages and further from Will.

The darkness threatens to pull me under again and I fight it, willing my body back to life, a panic and confusion unlike anything I have ever known ricocheting through me.

I am dropped abruptly, the back of my head slamming carelessly against the ground. The surface below me reverberates, sending shudders through my bones. What is that?

My head swims again, clouding my mind. I could swear I heard the sounds of shouting and the thunder of footsteps. With a great deal of effort I manage to twist my neck, forcing my eyes open, groaning again at the onslaught of sunlight.

Someone is heading this way. No. Several people are headed this way. Darkness blankets me once more, soothing and safe. I push it away, concentrating on the voices. Shouts and the sound of steel meeting steel. The sickening echo of weapon meeting flesh.

My shoulders are grabbed again and I am bodily lifted, pulled away from the fight and into some unknown direction. I want to look around for Luca, I want to find Will but the arms holding me are so comfortable, so safe that I can't help but be tempted by the welcoming darkness.

I am placed gently on the ground where I curl onto my side and tuck my head into the folds of my arms. There is the touch of a friendly hand against my cheek and then my saviour is gone, back towards the fight.

"Masks on!" In the distance someone shouts and a jolt of fear brings me a moment of awareness. The gas.

The ominous hissing tells me all I need to know. With what little strength I have left I manage to bury my face into my scarf, shutting my eyes tight and finally giving over to the next wave of unconsciousness.

When I come to again the light has changed. The ground beneath me isn't soft and golden, but rather firm and cold. I move my neck experimentally, crying out in pain as the headache behind my eyes throbs anew. My throat is so incredibly dry.

"Take it slow." Someone lays a hand on my shoulder and I swat them away, groaning at the movement.

Forcing my eyes open I am suddenly aware of the shadowy figure standing over me. I grapple for the dagger at my chest but my fingers won't respond to my command.

"It is all right, Kay. You are safe." The voice is familiar but my headache prevents me from recognizing it. A flask is placed to my lips and I drink greedily, coating my dusty throat.

"Where's Will?" I croak, looking around wildly. We are back in a tube station. How did I get here? The last thing I remember was being pulled back to the dunes. And Luca... Where is Luca?

My eyes come to rest on him, sitting a ways off. Jaron stands over his brother at the far end of the platform, his muscled arms crossed over his chest.

I look up at the person crouched next to me, flinching inwardly when I recognize Rowan. She offers the flask again and I shake my head, demanding, "Where's Will?"

Her dark eyes dart up to Jaron, asking a question. I feel my heart beating heavily in my chest, hammering home all of my fears and pains. Jaron makes his way towards us, his mouth drawn grimly.

"Where's Will?" I am shouting now, my words echoing off the walls of the underground.

"Taken." Jaron answers matter-of-factly.

A knife tears through me, cutting into each of my organs, spilling my life force out onto the rusted train tracks below. I can't breathe, hunching over my knees and hyperventilating as someone touches me tentatively. I cry out at the contact, jerking away and fighting to draw in a lungful of air, each breath stabbing my chest with a fiery fury.

Will. Taken. Because of me. Because I failed.

The after effects of the gas and Jaron's words are too much to bear. I feel as though I am being held underwater, scrabbling madly but unable to rise. Icy cold liquid fills my mouth and nose, drowning my heart, extinguishing my fire. It is an eternity before I am able to grasp back onto some semblance of myself, peering up into Jaron's concerned eyes. He is crouched next to me, his hand hovering over my shoulder.

"It hurts now." His voice is gruff. "But he is strong. And we will get him back."

"What happened?" I manage to choke out. Beyond Jaron I can see Luca, still hunched over his knees at the end of the platform. He twitches when I speak but doesn't look up.

"When you did not check in at the last station we went looking for you." Jaron glances at Luca and back to me. "We did not know what direction to take. Will took half our force to the North and I took the rest South."

A dozen people would have never been enough to fight off the ship full of strangers. They were doomed as soon as they split up.

"Will's soldiers found you first. They must have dragged you and Luca to safety. My force was too late to stop them. We managed to scare them off but all that we found was the remnants of a battle and you both unconscious behind a dune."

"They were all gone?" I whisper.

His silence is the answer to my question.

I slump forward, burying my face in my hands. "It's my fault."

"We will get them back." Jaron says firmly. "We saw the direction they took. We will continue to follow them."

I look up, my eyes first finding Jaron, then Rowan standing a ways behind him. Luca has not moved and a dozen other people are scattered throughout the platform. I feel Will's absence acutely and by the looks on everyone's faces, I am not the only one.

I do a cursory sweep of the dimly-lit platform, mentally cataloging the kidnapped soldiers. Besides Will, Marc is also missing. As I put a face to each of our taken comrades a steely resolve overtakes me, hardening my heart and solidifying my intent.

"I am going to kill her." My voice is not my own, raspy from the choking gas.

"You may have to get in line." Jaron replies without a trace of humour. "Rest now. Tomorrow is another day we fight."

Sleep is the last thing on my mind but I acquiesce by leaning my head back against the platform wall. I watch Jaron's retreating figure, curling my hands into fists and testing my strength as I imagine crushing the Madam's throat.

Any fear that I once felt is extinguished, as is any doubt I ever felt over who I truly am and what I am capable of.

The Madam has made a grave mistake this day. By taking from me the one person who has any power to limit my actions she has made an enemy of a fearless girl. I am someone without limits, who will stop at nothing to get them back, who will destroy anyone foolish enough to stand in my way.

I am the Runner. And I am going to kill the Madam.