Judit clung to Sannah's hand like she might disappear if she let go. Sannah was crying. Judit thought she might cry too. She didn't know if it was the beer or the thunderbolt of Sannah, Sannah here, but she felt totally hurled out, pinned under an avalanche of struggling emotions.

Shock, mostly shock, and she was happy to see her, yes, ecstatic, but a mass of other things too: all the thoughts and memories she'd pushed away since coming here were back, crazying up her brain, and it was hard to handle.

There was a definite guilt. She'd barely given Sannah a second thought since she'd come here—on purpose, avoiding thinking about her—and here she was. Somehow she'd come to find her.

Judit remembered her fantasies about Dek saving her, and felt such a nyaff that she'd thought of that, but never this. That Sannah, the only family she had, might care enough to do something as off kilter as this.

She buried her head in her sister's neck, wrapped her arms around her shoulders. The breathless run and the sea-air had served to sober her up, but it still felt so unreal.

"I can't believe you're here. I can't believe it."

"I've missed you so much," Sannah was crying, hugging Judit back.

"Me too," Judit said, and immediately felt guilty. No, that's not fair. I have missed her. I have. She just hadn't realised, until she saw her again. Now she was here, the painful, poignant feelings hit her like a train, like a roof-fall.

"Come on," Sannah said. "Let's go. I'm going to rescue you. Get you away. I've worked it all out. I can get a job, can–"

"Go?" Judit echoed, doubtfully, pulling upright, looking at that sweet face, so familiar and so surprising. "Go away? Like, now?"

Sannah nodded. "That's why I came. To rescue you. I've been so worried." Her face fell. "Don't you want to?"

"Of course I do!" Judit leaned in quickly again, hugged her sister. And she did. She did want to go. Leave all this Gaen dag and everyone hating her and Rama rejecting her behind. She did.

"But..." She lifted her arm, pulled a face. "I'm chipped. They can see where I am. If I just sail off it'll look crook straight away. They'll see where I'm going." She glanced at Brock and Lintie, huddled together on the rocks, at the waves dipping around them.

"In fact, I better get off this boat, right now. If any of 'em checks their screens I'll be in the sea."

She wondered for a second if Rama ever did that, when they were apart. If he ever thought, I wonder what Judit's up to, and had a look on his screen. She knew she would, if the roles were reversed.

"Come on," she said to Sannah, still not letting go of her hand. "Come to the beach." She stood up, steadying herself as she stepped onto the rim of the bobbing vessel.

"Your clothes are off kilter, Dit," Sannah said as she followed Judit across the salt-slick rocks.

"I know, right? You should see the pants."

Both girls laughed for the first time, and it felt good. It's so good to see her again, Judit thought. I can't let her go another time. Not now.

They sat on the heavy-wet sand, listening to the rhythmic breathing of the waves.

"So what do we do?" Judit said uncertainly, her fingers creeping towards Sannah's. "About my chip?"

"Can you just cut it out?" Sannah reached out to touch Judit's arm, see if she could feel it.

Judit thought of Jaddy. "I don't think so. I think it's really deep. Someone said that if I wanted to escape I'd have to... disable it on the mainframe or something. Whatever that means."

"Edit the code," Sannah nodded. "That makes sense. I think I could do that, maybe, with a bit of research." She paused, parallel lines creased between her brows. "I'd need access to the Sherbourne network drive. Did they give you an institutional network connection or anything?"

Judit curled her lip. "You're joking, right? We didn't even get a screen. We've been doing pen writing."

"Do you know anyone, have any friends that do? Students, staff, anyone with a Sherbourne ID that might help us?"

Judit frowned. Rama? That was unlikely. "No," she admitted, feeling defeated.

Sannah's brow creases deepened. Judit could almost see cogs turning in her mind.

"I might," she said eventually, her voice unsure. "I might know someone that might help us."

"Licit?" Judit was surprised. "You know someone at Sherbourne? Is this something to do with your scholarship?"

Sannah shook her head. "No. And I don't know him, I mean, not really. I've never met him. But he's a friend of a friend. He's... My friend wrote this book, about Exotics, racism, criticising the government. It's amazing, Judit, really, it's... I'll give it to you. You have to read it. Anyway, one of the people he wrote it with is this guy at Sherbourne. I just think, knowing my friend, knowing the way this guy writes, I feel like he'd help us. I feel like he'd understand."

"Who's your friend? So someone at Birchwood wrote a book about racism?" That doesn't make any sense at all. "Is this like an online friend or something?"

"No. I... It doesn't matter right now. I'll tell you how I met him later. But he's a good guy. Faro. His name's Faro. He's Exotic–"

"Really? Sharp." Judit was surprised. They barely ever met any other Exotics.

"Yeah, and I assume this Sherbourne guy is too. And if he's friends with Faro, then... I'll contact him. I think he'll help us."

"Are you sure?" It all sounded pretty crook to Judit, and her gut told her it was. But it's Sannah, she reminded herself. She knows what she's doing. Better than you. She always has.

"Okay," Judit answered her own question. "Do whatever you think. What should I do?"

"Meet me here again tomorrow? If I've sorted the chip thing by then, we can go." She paused, obviously thinking. "Look, I'm gonna need to know which is your chip to isolate it, okay? So can you do something for me? It sounds crook, but can you... like, walk in a figure-eight tomorrow? Every ten minutes?"

"All day?"

Sannah nodded. "Sorry," she said. "But I don't know how long it will take me to find this guy, get onto the system. Then I'll be able to work out which of the chips is you."

Judit pulled a face, then nodded. "I suppose," she replied doubtfully. "I don't have a watch or anything, but I'll do it as often as I can."

Sannah leaned in, hugged her again. "I can't believe I found you," she said, her breath warm on Judit's neck. "I'm so sorry I let them take you. I'll never let anything happen to you again. I promise."

Judit nodded, unable to speak, clinging to her sister like she couldn't leave, like she'd die without her. She was crying now. She couldn't help it.

***

"So that's your sister?" Lintie marvelled as they hiked back to the village together.

"Yup."

"And she came all the way from Birchwood just to see you?"

"Yeah." Judit hesitated. She didn't want Lintie to know about the escape plan. "We didn't really get a chance to say goodbye."

"Wow."

It had been weird, leaving Sannah again, letting go. Like there was no way she could possibly come back tomorrow, like that must be it. She could hardly bear it. Judit bit her lip. Lintie was silent beside her. The camp was dark, though the remains of a fire glowed up on the far hill, cut into red segments by the dark stones of the circle around it.

"Judit..." Lintie said her name tentatively, like she was about to bring up something significant. I wonder if this is about Gaen, Merle. Why she hates me. "Were you... Were you trying to rub up with Rama when I came to the stones before?"

Judit stiffened, aghast. I can't believe she saw that. Can I lie? Is it too late to lie? Skit. Too much time has passed now, it'll be clear it's a lie.

Lintie clearly took her silence as a yes.

"I mean, I'm not being funny, but Rama? Of all people? I mean he's sleek and everything, but... there's no way he's going to be interested in you. Not like that—I mean like, or me, or Merle. Any of us."

Judit remained silent. A muscle in her jaw was twitching. She can dag off.

Lintie went on. "I know... I know it's got nothing to do with me. But... I wanted to bring it up–"

"Oh, skit off," Judit snapped, unable to hold her anger in any longer. "You're right, it does have nothing to do with you. And you know nothing about me and Rama. So skitting keep out of it."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Lintie threw her hands up, defensive. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was just... It's crook for me, y'know. I want to do the right thing, Gaen is my friend-"

"Oh yeah," Judit said sarcastically, "I don't see you worrying about the right thing when you're off rubbing with Brock while Tod cries in the dark back at the blackhouse. You're one to talk."

"Fine." Lintie's voice was injured, and Judit almost immediately regretted her outburst. "I really was just trying to do the right thing," Lintie sounded choked. "I'm sorry. And you're right about me and Brock. I know you are."

There was a sniffing noise. Dagging hell, now she's crying. Judit felt momentarily wretched, then remembered what Lintie had said about her and Rama. No, she deserved it. She upped her pace, left her snivelling companion. She walked briskly back to the blackhouse, alone, without saying goodbye.

***

"Judit?"

Gaen was awake. Judit crept into the living room, hovered by the fire looking over to the bed. He was all wrapped up, facing the wall. She couldn't see him.

"Yep. It's me. You okay? How you feeling?"

"I'm fine." His voice was sullen. "You want the bed?"

"No," Judit replied quickly. "I'm alright nesting by the fire. Don't worry."

He didn't say anything else. She sat down by the fire, poked it a little to make a bigger flame. Her head was spinning. Partly beer, partly just the dagged-upness of life.

Do I want to go? she thought. She should want to. There was nothing here for her now, she'd messed it all up. No friends, dagged it up with Rama, useless at being Native. Why would she want to stay?

But part of her did. Part of her wanted to stay because she cared. She cared what people thought of her, and she wanted to fix it. She wanted Merle and Lintie and even dagging Gaen to like her again.

She wanted them to properly respect her. To think she was a good person, on spec, not a lazy useless skitting nyaff. Because she wanted to be a good person and on spec, rather than a lazy useless skitting nyaff. And if she left now, as far as they were concerned, that's all she'd ever be. And that hurt. And also kinda made it true.

Judit frowned into the fire. Everyone made out that not caring what other people think was a good thing, something you should aim for, but it was dag. How can you not care what other people think—your friends, the people close to you, the people you love? Because if you didn't care, what were you? A dagcrank. A sociopath.

And do you know what? She was in the wild now, truly really trying to survive, and not caring about others wasn't a part of that. In the wilderness, you relied on others for your life. You'd die out here if you were alone.

Judit thought of Birchwood, of real life, and how much everyone relied on others there too: to feed them, clothe them, keep them warm. Yet somehow you were supposed to be an individual, think only of yourself, not care? Pretend you were working alone, it was all a competition? It was a load of crank.

Judit sniffed, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees. She thought about Rama. She loved him so much, and she knew he loved her too. Lintie, anyone else, could say whatever they wanted. They were wrong. Lintie hadn't felt it. She didn't know. But if Judit left now, like this, well... it was crank, really. That's all. Her brow felt heavy, storm-clouds and rain-sheets rolling in over her brain.

Perhaps she could stay. Tell Sannah tomorrow that she wasn't going to go. But the thought of leaving her sister again, never seeing her, never knowing what she was doing, it was heartbreaking. And it wasn't fair on Sannah, not at all. I'm all she's got, Judit thought.

Sannah had always seemed so in control, so emotionless. But she'd been so upset on the boat, somehow fragile, like she could just shatter. She'd never thought that Sannah might need her. But now she realised she did. Just because Judit was the baby, was used to Sannah looking after her, it didn't mean Sannah didn't, in some off kilter way, depend on her too.

I have a responsibility to Sannah, Judit thought, staring into the glowing embers, lost in the illuminated microcosm of a living universe that was playing out between the dark coals. And that has to come first.

All that other stuff, my untied threads, any unfinished business, I'll just have to get over it. You can't always get what you want in life. Some things are more important.

What did it matter if some people she'd cared about thought she was a dagcrank nyaff? What did it matter if she was? It didn't. She'd survive. Her sister came first.