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before.
    Soon Rebbe Davison and Ettie surfaced from under the distantclump of trees. Each one held a pile of black sticks in their arms.
    “I was going to chop down a tree,” Rebbe Davison said. “Like it says in the survival manuals in the library. But—” He hesitated, looking out at the silhouette of branches that shivered against the sky. When Ettie piped up, her own voice was awed despite the tears drying on her face.
    “They moved! The trees moved! Like they could see us! Like they were people!”
    We all stared at her. I suppose the others didn’t believe it, that trees could move of their own volition. Of course, on Earth the plants turned their faces toward the sun, unfurling blossoms in the early morning light. But that was different—automatic, instinctual. And slow, slow, slow.
    But I’d known for months that plants could caress you, could wrap their arms around you like you, too, were made from cellulose and wood pulp.
    “There are plants on Earth,” I offered when they turned to me with questioning eyes, “that move in response to stimuli. Carnivorous, mostly. Pitcher plants and flytraps—”
    “Carnivorous?” Deklan asked, angling up his jaw. I hesitated. It was Jachin who answered for me.
    “Flesh eating.”
    Deklan’s eyes went wide. The corners of his mouth lifted, but Idon’t think he found it funny. Alarming, maybe. He wore his smile like a shield. He took the bundle of sticks from Ettie’s arms.
    “We’ll make do,” he said. He arranged them on the ground. I saw him glance back toward the fist of trees in the distance. The black clump waved at us like fingers thrust up through the crust of ice. Deklan shivered, but we all ignored it as we knelt by his side and helped him make a fire.
    •  •  •
    The flames that leaped out of the lighters were small, only tiny nubbins of orange light. But the firestarter caught the flames easily and spread them through the black twigs and sticks. First they smoldered, smoke rising, thick on the air. But soon the fire grew hypnotic, orange and dancing, blue at the base and then fading to white as it flickered into the open air. We gathered around it, warming our faces. At first Ettie hung back.
    “It’s dangerous ,” she said, and then she looked pointedly at Rebbe Davison. “We learned that in school.”
    I held out my hand to her.
    “It’s okay,” I told her gently. “It will keep you warm. You want to be warm, right?”
    She hung back a moment longer, chewing on her lip. Then, in a burst of energy, she plunged herself over the drifts and came to kneel beside me in the snow.
    Rebbe Davison got us food. We boiled the packets of dried meat and dehydrated vegetables over the fire with a few splashes of our water.
    “The water won’t last us long,” he said. “We’ll have to boil snow soon and hope . . .” He trailed off. Deklan was hard-eyed. He held one of the sonic rifles over his knees. He hadn’t let it go since we’d found them. Projectile weapons weren’t allowed on the ship—too risky, even for the captain’s guard. I guess it made him feel extra safe.
    “Hope what?” he demanded. Rebbe Davison let out a small, desperate laugh.
    “Hope there’s nothing in their water that will kill us.”
    We were all quiet for a long time as we watched the water burble, as the fire beneath it burned. Rebbe Davison still held the pot out over the fire, but he used his free hand to veil his face.
    “I can’t believe I did this,” he said at last. “I never drink. But I was drunk when I ran for the shuttle bay.”
    Beside him Jachin let out a snort.
    “Me too.”
    Then Deklan and Laurel gazed at each other. In the firelight I saw her cheeks darken. He wore a wicked grin. “So were we.”
    Then suddenly, strangely, we were all laughing—desperate, hysterical laughter, like it was the best joke that had ever been told. All of us except Ettie, of course. She frowned deeply, staring at the grown-ups like every single one of us