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to the labored. It’s odd to hear Sammy’s voice so serious, to have it stir up feelings like remorse and compassion when until now it’s drawn out only laughter.
    As soon as Sammy closes the book, Blaine escorts Jackson from the woodshop. He’s conscious now, but still bound and gagged. Blaine wrestles him to the ground and Clipper pulls the clipping device from his pack. The entire thing is over in a matter of seconds, but Jackson screams and writhes for far longer.
    Watching from beyond the well, Emma is cringing. Like the rest of us, she knows the pain. She underwent a precautionary clipping when I brought her from Taem to Crevice Valley after securing the vaccine. I was surprised when Clipper found a tracker in her, but the boy pointed out that while Emma never served as a soldier in Frank’s Order, she did work in his hospitals, and Frank has never been one to take his security lightly.
    When the clipping procedure is over, we pack our bags and ready ourselves for another day of travel. Xavier rounds up the healthiest two horses from the stables. Aiden is set to ride a dapple gray named Merlin while the second steed, a white mare called Snow, is loaded up with hay and grain for the both of them.
    Sammy bursts from the woodshop, Rusty in tow. The dog is bounding playfully—at least until he spots Jackson, at which point his ears fold back, and he starts growling.
    “This dog,” Sammy grunts, tugging to restrain him. “I thought the kid said he was good.”
    “He is,” I say, looking between Jackson and the dog. “He doesn’t like the spy. It’s like he can sense he’s up to something.”
    “I haf a name,” Jackson grunts through the handkerchief in his mouth.
    “Your name’s Jackson,” Aiden says from Merlin’s back. “I heard everyone talking about you during breakfast.”
    Jackson starts, staring at the small boy. “Yeah. It is.”
    “Whatever,” Sammy says. “The dog hates him and I’m going to have to keep this thing leashed, and at a distance, or even a deaf man will hear us coming.” Rusty lunges, snapping, and Blaine and Jackson skirt out of the way to protect their heels.
    “Great,” Blaine says. “I stand too close to the scum and the dog doesn’t trust me either.”
    “Jackson,” the spy says through the gag.
    “Right,” Blaine says. “Sorry.” But he doesn’t look it.
    We start walking, our growing team again on the move. I glance back only once. The crows are already diving, anxious to return to their feast.
     
    At midday we pause to give Owen, Bo, and Clipper a few minutes to discuss our route. There is a small town ahead according to Clipper’s location device, and after the fiasco Stonewall became, my father is desperate to avoid it.
    From the back of his horse, Aiden has taken to playing a hand game he calls Rock, Paper, Scissors with, of all people, the Order spy. Jackson still has his mouth gagged and his arms tied behind his back, so he has to shout his selection as Aiden pushes his hand out to reveal his choice. The spy looks pretty miserable about the entire affair.
    Aiden counts, bobbing a fist up and down to the numbers. “One . . . two . . . three!”
    “Pahpur,” Jackson says, and at the same time, Aiden’s fist opens to form scissors. He snips them at Jackson, beaming.
    “Again. One . . . two . . . three!”
    “Roch!”
    Aiden’s fist is now flat.
    “You’re chea’in’,” Jackson mumbles through the gag.
    “Nuh-uh.”
    The spy frowns. “Den you’re rea’ing my mind.”
    They get in one last round, Jackson again losing, before Emma pulls the boy from Merlin’s back.
    “Let’s not get too fond of the prisoner, Aiden,” she says.
    “But he plays with me. No one else does.”
    Sammy bursts through the snow, being dragged by Rusty, who is barking at Jackson yet again. “I’d play if it wasn’t for this crazed animal. I think my forearms are going to give out.”
    Emma laughs at this and Aiden relieves Sammy of the dog; the