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“Did you hear that?” Evie pushed aside a branch and looked over the clearing. The sound was already retreating, a deep, thunderous boom—on a clear spring day. Sunlight filtered through dense leaves above, casting a greenish-yellow glow over a field of brush, and the grey metal fibers running through it. The strand lay all around here, burrowed in the earth, wrapping the trees, giving off its electric hum. Nothing unusual. Whatever had made the booming sound was too distant to trouble her. For now.

Evie vaulted through the branches and landed on a spot of bare earth, then hopped eastward across a broken path of strand-free soil. It was still early morning, and if she kept a good pace, she could get to the pond where the moonseed grew, harvest the berries, and return to the safety of their home field before noon.

If she kept a good pace.

“Hunter!” she yelled. “Hurry up!”

A rustling came from behind her, followed by a muffled “ouch” as her half-brother passed through a thorn bush she had avoided. At the edge of the clearing he leaned forward, hands on his knees, red scratches on his cheek. He closed his eyes tight and opened them again, then puffed out, “I want to rest.”

“Father gave me an order. If I don’t get the berries as fast as possible, I’ll be breaking the law.” The second law of the Pure, to be exact: youngsters must follow the will of their elders. Even Hunter couldn’t argue with that.

“He also said you had to…” He paused to blink hard again and swallow. “Take me with you.”

Evie made no effort to hide her annoyance. She didn’t expect an eleven-year-old to be able to keep up with her at sixteen, but everyone else his age knew when it was appropriate to speak. “He said you could come, not that I had to sit around waiting for you.”

She headed off, only looking back once she had left the clearing. Shoulders hunched, Hunter stepped gingerly through the high grass, avoiding the strand as she had, but taking longer to do it. Evie wiped a sweat-soaked lock of hair from her face and kept moving. The air was heavy with moisture, her leather shirt stuck to her skin. Unseasonable heat for early spring, and not a good sign. The tribe would have to migrate northward within weeks. Hence this trip for the berries—they didn’t grow in the mountains up north, and the shaman needed them to make medicine. Already their home field was swelled with neighboring families preparing for the migration. Tents, food, tools, everything had to be packed and carried. No possession could survive the coming of th