A hand tapped my shoulder, and I blinked sleepily at Grant. I sat up, exhaustion still clinging to every muscle.

"Can you make it to the porter's circle?" he asked.

I glanced at the large circle of rocks at the end of the ravine. Dubbed the "porter's circle", it was a spot where porters and Grant often gathered in the evenings. It was only about thirty paces away, and two of the rocks had bowls of soup and two small baskets of greens on them.

My stomach gurgled at the sight of food. "One way to find out."

Grant offered me his hand, and I took it. My legs felt like lead as I pulled them under me and stood up. Each step was shaky as I leaned on my adoptive father's arm, but I made it. I opted to sit on a fur at the base of a rock so I could use the stone as a backrest.

"It's been a while since I've seen you overextend yourself like this," Grant commented.

"I only did six solo ports before taking the cart though," I replied, frowning as the word left my lips. Said aloud, the number seemed even more wrong.

I picked up the wooden bowl beside me, which was three-quarters full. Grant's was only half full, and most of the villagers would have portions similar to his. I glanced at the sunny ledges where the meat drying racks were. They were a third emptier than they had been this morning.

"You were tired when you came back from the Guard Station. I should have asked you to rest instead of planting those seeds, but a couple of ports usually don't knock you down like this." Grant ate a spoonful of soup while regarding me for a moment. "Lift up your pantleg. I want another look at those claw marks."

Confused, I lifted my pantleg. The red mark had halfway faded, and only tiny dots of red marked where the Saursune's claws had pricked into my skin.

Grant peered at it. "No signs of infection, or at least not the quick flesh-eating kind, although that one is usually only contracted in the jungles. Not inflamed enough for poison either."

With a shudder, I let my pantleg drop. "I think I just exhausted myself when I was struggling to get away. I didn't realize it would affect my porting that much."

Grant nibbled on a dandelion leaf from the small, straw-woven basket without commenting. Perhaps my explanation let me avoid one of his famous lectures about overextending myself. Because it didn't make sense. Half of the village's porters might not be able to manage eight ports, but I could hit fifteen on a bad day, and Grant knew it.

Other porters drifted over to join us. Their servings were similar to mine, and they opted to eat instead of chatter.

The warm soup was also my primary focus. Once again, it was mostly greens, a handful of grass seeds, four thumbnail-sized pieces of fish, and one crunchy white cube that didn't taste like potato.

When my bowl was empty, I set it to the side and began nibbling on the greens in the small basket. The heat had wilted the plants, and they didn't taste as good as when we ate them in the field. I really had to chew some of the tougher stems that had come from older plants. People must not be straying far enough from the crystals to find the new growth.

Ariel moved to a stone beside me. "Someone said a Saursune scratched your ankle?"

I pulled up my pant leg and shifted my leg so the others could see it.

She whistled in quiet amazement. "I'm amazed you got away."

"It let me go," I admitted. I told them of the events and what I had learned at the Guard Station.

"This troubles me," Grant said, frowning at the packed dirt. "There have been more Saursune attacks and sightings in the last two days than in the last year combined."

"Any idea why?" Merryl asked, her gaze lingering on the five tiny pinpricks and the mostly-faded red mark on my ankle.

"We probably seem like rats to them," Mitch grumbled. "Humans are constantly in their fields, regardless of how often they chase us out. And yet, various remote places go untouched for a month if we spot them there. It's not exactly hard for them to figure out where we're active and see the trends. They aren't stupid."

"And they wouldn't know there's a handful of villages who don't raid crops, nor that it's those same ones who avoid any location they've been sighted," I added, having already mulled over all these details. I covered another yawn. With food in my stomach, the tiredness seemed to double.

Janette sighed. "Which means, sooner or later, they're going to decide that humans aren't going to stay nicely in our own little corners, and they'll do something about it."

Grant looked like he had bitten something far more bitter than the piece of watercress in his fingers. "They're already starting to thin out the troublemakers raiding their fields. Every death so far was in or near their crop fields or farms. On top of that, they're giving everyone else a good scare to chase us off, knowing we'll warn the others and avoid that area for a while."

"But you don't just kill a few wasps that are buzzing around," Ariel quietly said. "You search out the nest and destroy it. Could...could they be preparing for another cull?"

We fell silent. I had been a toddler during the last cull, far too young to remember it, but the elders and patriarchs had spoken about it many times. Over a third of the villages had been wiped out. Most of the porters had escaped, often with a handful of survivors, but that was it.

"It's been almost twenty years," Grant said quietly. "It's a strong possibility, especially with so many villages killing their livestock and raiding the farms. We'll have to keep a sharp eye out for trackers. That was their favorite trick the last time they tried to figure out where our villages were hidden."

"But where will we go to collect food?" I asked, puzzled and concerned as I tore a leaf in my salad to shreds. "We're already avoiding half of our known locations because they're near the fields, and Saursunes are appearing all over the place."

I nibbled on the leaf shreds. Even though it was an older leaf, tough and bitter, I wasn't about to let food go to waste.

With a frown, Calum added, "The hunters had almost no luck hunting today. Two other porters showed up at our spot while checking if it was empty. More people are beginning to use the remote locations, and many places are starting to get picked clean."

Grant was silent for a long time. Eventually, he said, "I don't know. We might not be able to avoid an area for a moonturn just because a Saursune was spotted there."

"Not near the fields—" Belle began, her voice high-pitched with worry.

"No." Grant shook his head sharply, cutting her off. "We'll completely avoid any areas near a field. Those spots are way too dangerous right now."

We all nodded.

Ariel murmured, "We're going to have problems finding enough food, but I can think of at least six villages that have relied on raiding the farm storage bins for years. Most sneak into the fields every few days."

"They'll either learn, lose their porters and hunters, or be discovered," Grant said grimly. "It wouldn't be the first time the Saursunes put guards near crystals to catch porters before their sight clears. Those at the Oasis are keeping tabs on who comes to visit in case a village goes silent. I'll have to get a lift there every second day to reassure them that we're okay."

The idea of six or more villages disappearing forever because they had turned into dedicated raiders bothered me in a fashion I couldn't put words to. That was over a thousand people, maybe even two thousand. But with them no longer raiding and suddenly relying on foraging, it added a lot of competition for already-limited resources.

It would only be days before the areas around the crystals were picked clean of even the oldest and most trampled edible plants. Then...then we'd all be facing starvation. People would get desperate.

What would they do when their family and friends didn't have enough to eat? What lengths would I go to when Callie or Merryl cried from hunger pains? I was reminded of the drought four years ago, when I had jogged through fields and forests in hopes of finding planted shards marked on Grant's map, left by porters who hadn't lived long enough to return.

The pitter-patter of footsteps announced Callie's arrival. "Look what I did, Mom!"

My niece slid into a sitting position beside Merryl as she showed her a piece of wood with charcoal markings on it.

"You're getting good at counting," Merryl praised her.

I leaned over and poked the bottom corner, teasing Callie, "Why are these blank?"

"I don't like nines." She stuck out her lower lip. "Those numbers are too high."

"Keep trying," her mother encouraged her. "Pretend you're counting baskets and weights."

"Do I have to?"

Calum nodded. "Porters have to be able to count and read very well. The more you learn, the more often you'll get to go out with us."

The girl's eyes lit up with excitement. It would be years before she moved from addition to multiplication and realized it was used to calculate exactly how much food each group had to bring in every day to feed the village. Each porter or porter group was trying to find enough food to feed at least fifteen people. That wasn't a small task.

I covered another yawn, feeling my remaining energy dwindling. After I ate the last leaf in my basket, I told Grant, "I'm heading to bed. See you in the morning."

He nodded. "I'll take your bowl back for you. Sleep well."

I plodded up the path. No one stopped me or did more than nod at me. It wasn't unusual for a porter to seek their bed hours earlier than usual. A handful of hunters kept a watchful eye on me, obviously able to tell I was on the dregs of my strength.

I slid past the door curtain and flopped onto the fur-covered mound of dried grasses that served as a bed. It was almost too much effort to change into my lounging robe, but I didn't want to sleep in my leather clothing. As I snuggled underneath the pile of thin hides, the doorway blanket shifted as something slunk underneath and curled up next to me.

I absently pet the lanky cat as I closed my eyes, able to identify Loki by the feel of his fur. With the emotional support of the purring cat and in the privacy of my room, I let the memories I'd been suppressing all day fly through my mind.

The Saursune's eyes... Keen as any predator and intelligent. They'd stared at me as if examining me and committing my face to memory. Would it give me a second chance if they caught me in that area again? Or was the direct stare a one-time warning? I had no idea.

The memory of its fleet, fluid run made my muscles tense even though I was safe in my room. I hugged Loki closer; the cat bumped his head against my chin and gave a few licks with his rough tongue.

A faint ache near my ankle reminded me that the Saursune could have slashed my leg open far too easily. He'd had me right in his claws. Yet, the killing strike had never come. Instead, he'd let me go.

That detail both relieved and worried me. Several times, I'd seen them kill people without hesitation, and heard of many other deaths. Admittedly, they had also let a few of my friends escape today, so it wasn't just me. But they hadn't been caught by the ankle.

Normally, if a Saursune got close, death was far more common than simply being chased off. The last few days had seen a reverse of that pattern.

I felt like I was missing something—something important. My mind tried to sift through my exhaustion-hazed memories but failed. I was simply too tired.

Thru-hum, thru-hum. The cat's rhythmic purring made it impossible to remain awake.