"The stars shall fade away, the sun himself grow dim with age, and nature sink in years, But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, unhurt amidst the wars of elements, The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds."

-Joseph Addison

The sun targets my back like a laser beam as I traipse through a clearing in the woods to my favorite spot by the river. It's so peaceful here. A gentle wind sways the tree branches. Leaves of vibrant gold, red, and orange crunch beneath my feet. Birds sing overhead, mingling with the rush of water as I approach. Small forest animals play nearby, not shying away at the presence of a human in their territory. Two familiar chipmunks, which I've uncreatively dubbed Chip and Dale — they're here every day at this time — scamper around me as they fight over a nut. A rabbit hops to the water's edge to take a drink. Squirrels follow me, standing on their hind legs and beg with wide eyes for food. I toss them a handful of squirrel food. When they've finished eating their fill, a pair of them chitter as they chase each other up a tree. Well, I feed them often enough, so they've grown used to me. I plop onto a log the width of a tree trunk, which indeed it is. A storm last year brought it down as if wanting to give me the perfect spot to read. I open my latest treasure, a red leather-bound first edition of The Red and the Black. It sounded like an intriguing read. I'm supposed to be learning history this afternoon, so this book should count.

Before my eager hands have a chance to open it to the page I bookmarked, footsteps crunch behind me. I hide the book inside my denim jacket.

"There you are." Aunt Magnolia leans against a tree, aviator sunglasses shielding her blue eyes. Sometime after lunch, she's piled her blond hair, the same color as mine, into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. A flowy, floral maxi dress swirls around her sandaled feet in the wind.

"Yes," I say, huffing flyaway strands of hair, which have grown too long, out of my eyes. "Where else would I go if I'm not at home?"

"We need to talk." She lifts her sunglasses to rest atop her head, meeting my wary gaze with a steadfast resolve.

I groan. "No. Aunt Mags, no. I like it here."

She purses her lips, but the sympathy in her eyes tells me she doesn't like this any better than I do. "So do I, Lark, but we've stayed in Kentucky too long already."

"Why do we have to do this every year?" I swing my legs off the log so I'm standing now, hands on hips. If only I could stare her down hard enough to change her mind. She's ten years older than me, but you'd never know it to look at her. She could pass for eighteen. Actually, she stopped aging at eighteen like the rest of the women in our family. Like I will on my next birthday. "The BloodSlayers haven't found us since they killed Mom —"

My voice catches, and the tension around her eyes softens. Tears she won't let fall shine in her eyes. Aunt Magnolia is Mom's sister, and she lost her as much as I did if not more. She reaches out to take my hands in hers. "We got too lax. That's why they found us. If we move around, we stand a chance."

"I know. It sucks, is all. Of all the places we've found, we have it the best here. We're close enough to pick up anything we need from the stores, and none of them have cameras. The BloodSlayers can't track us. How will we have it better anywhere else?"

"Whether we do or don't, we can't take the chance of staying, and that's final."

I sigh, a heavy, bitter thing that leaves me more weighed down than before. "When do we leave?"

"Now. Come on. I've packed our go bags." When I open my mouth to protest, she puts up a palm to stop me and adds, "Everything essential is in there. The rest we don't need. Wait, what's this?"

Her gaze strays to the book at my feet. Yikes. I hadn't noticed it fall. Aunt Magnolia stares at me, lips pursing again. If she could wrinkle someday, I'd tease her about causing herself to age prematurely, but as it is, I have to hold my tongue. "My history reading," I say, flashing innocent eyes at her.

She doesn't bite. "Pick it up, please. That is an original leather-bound edition worth at least a few hundred dollars. What if it had ended up in the lake and we didn't have it to pawn if we need to?"

I sigh, knowing she's right. I pick up the book and brush off grass, dirt, and stray dandelion fluff. There, good as new. "Sorry, Aunt Mags. Next time I'll save our good books for indoor reading."

"Good. Now let's go already." There's an urgency in her eyes, bordering on panic, that lets me know she didn't pick today at random for our next move. She knows something, and as usual, she's not telling.

If we have to leave, I hope our next bachelorette pad has a spot like this. "So, where are we moving?"

"At the moment, I don't know. We need to go anywhere that isn't here. I'm going to drive us as far away as we can get. No maps, no talking to anyone along the way."

"Yes, I know the rules. I've done this how many times already over the years?" I refrain from rolling my eyes. Why does she always feel the need to remind me, when we've done this so often I've lost count. "By the way, my green dress had better be hanging up in the car. I don't want it stuffed in a duffle bag and getting all wrinkled."

Without a word, Aunt Magnolia sets off for the trail that leads back to the house. I sigh again and follow. Until now, I'd never thought to question our frequent moves. They'd always simply been necessary, but now, I wonder when all this will end. I don't want to spend my life looking over my shoulder until the BloodSlayers pick off my clan one by one, including me. By now, we've lost touch with everyone else after Mom was killed. For all we know, they could be dead or scattered into small groups, like Aunt Magnolia and I did. The better to remain hidden, I suppose. We may be the only two left.

When we emerge from the trail and catch sight of the house, we stop short as one. I gasp. Our beautiful little house is on fire. The roof falls in as we watch. Flames engulf the wraparound porch where we'd sit in our rocking chairs and drink sweet tea or lemonade. The wreckage drips onto the landscaping. Several azalea bushes start to burn. Tears well in my eyes, and the acrid smoke burns my nose and throat.

"What?" I ask. "How did you know they'd found us?"

"I have my sources. No time for questions, and I can't tell you, anyway. Now, let's go. I parked the car off-road behind some trees where they won't see it. Pray they don't know we have a black Toyota." Aunt Magnolia withdraws a pistol from her purse, and the sight stops me cold.

"When did you get a gun?"

"Move!" She yanks me by the arm back into the trail, but by then it's too late. Men dressed in black t-shirts and cargo pants emerge from the trees, carrying what must be semiautomatic rifles. My heart pounds in a rushing rhythm faster than the flow of the river. It pulses in my ears. I crash into the woods behind her, racing to keep pace with her. My clumsy feet trip over roots or fallen branches. We push our way through overgrowth until we reach the Toyota. Someone's close behind us, his shout to surround us far too loud in my ears. He's going to catch us. He's going to catch us, torture us, and kill us like they did to Mom.

Shots ring out behind us. Close, too close. I whimper, and Aunt Mags pulls me down into the underbrush, pistol still raised in her other hand. She scans the area with a cold, hard expression I've never seen before. Her head is cocked to one side, and I'm sure she's listening for our enemy's approach. Suddenly, she springs into action, rising enough to fire off several shots. They're sharp, precise. Each bullet hits its target, right in the center of the forehead. Three men crumple to the ground, eyes open and staring at nothing.

Where did Aunt Mags learn to shoot?

My body shakes all over as adrenaline kicks in, and I stare at the sight before us in numb shock until she hisses, "Move! We have to get to the car."

I nod and race with her the rest of the way to the car. We scramble in, and Aunt Mags pulls off, tires squealing.

A million questions race through my head. "How did they find us?" I settle for asking. "We've been so careful."

"No idea. My source picked up chatter that they'd traced our location, but none of it revealed how. Care to enlighten me?"

"You think it's my fault? Aunt Mags, I've never spoken to anyone aside from clerks at the grocery store or coffee shop. Even then, the conversation is all about whatever purchase I'm making."

"Okay, okay. I didn't mean to accuse."

I lean my head back against the headrest and stare out the window. "What about you?" I say finally. "You must've picked up how to use a gun somewhere. Did you learn while you told me you were working? Maybe you talked to someone at the range and tipped them off."

Aunt Mags draws in a deep breath. When I shoot her a look, eyebrow arched in a challenge, she's gripping the steering wheel. "Lord give me patience. All right, look. After Azalea, well, I wasn't going to lose you, too. All this time we've relied on stealth and moving around to keep them from tracking us. When they attacked, it proved we needed better defense. So, I learned."

I nodded, my lips quirking upward of their own volition. "Clearly. You were pretty badass back there."

"Thank you."

"So you've been doing this for four years now, all to prepare for today? How was it that this source of yours didn't give you enough of a heads-up for us to move yesterday?"

"Woah, slow down there, Larkspur." Her use of my full name lets me know I'm treading on thin ice with the questions. She and Mom always operated under the assumption that the less I know about our circumstances, the better protected I'll be. I'm not sure I've ever agreed with this, but after narrowly escaping with our lives, it's about time I get some answers. "They may have found out that we were onto them and gave misinformation to throw us off."

"Okay, that makes sense."

"Now, as for our destination, we'll figure it out on the way. We need new names, a new look, and a change of strategy. In a city, it might be easier to stay anonymous and disappear. Fewer nosy neighbors trying to get into our business."

"The city?" My mouth goes dry. New identities and a new look, complete with an entirely new wardrobe, would only go so far toward hiding us. A city would have cameras all over. Couldn't the BloodSlayers use some high-tech, like face recognition, to trace us? Danger, danger, danger, my mind screams. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"I don't like the idea, either, Lark," Aunt Mags says, her voice going soft. "In fact, I hate it, but we need to do something we've never done before if we want to have a chance of shaking them off. Or, better yet, at ending them."

My eyes go wide at this. "You have some sort of plan?"

"Yes, and don't ask."

"Right."

"Also, we're going to have to do something else we've never done before — enroll you in public school."

#

"Did we have to come this far north?" I ask when we pass a sign that reads, "Welcome to Pennsylvania. We've never lived this far north before, and I shiver as I imagine what winter will be like here. "Why not go to Florida or California?"

"Lots of rural areas where we can fly under the radar while we get our new identities ready."

We drive through winding, hilly one-lane roads, all lined with dense trees. A few farms and mountains in the distance break up the landscape. I watch cows laying down on the grass and horses trotting inside white-fenced fields. Vivid red, orange, and gold foliage brighten everything into an autumnal paradise. Colder climate or not, it is beautiful. I've heard of the beautiful colors the leaves turn up north in the fall, but I never imagined how breathtaking it would be. Finally, we arrive at a remote storage facility and park in front of a garage door.

Even in an unfamiliar place, at least this drill is familiar. We open the garage door, and Aunt Magnolia parks the car inside. Together we rummage through supplies, including new driver's licenses with Pennsylvania ID, clothes, even scissors and hair dye. So, we're staying here. Part of me had hoped this was a pit stop along the way to wherever we'd eventually end up.

"Wouldn't we have a better chance of losing them if we keep going?"

"What if this time we don't want to lose them? What if this time we set a trap and end this?"

"Wait, is that possible? Our numbers have dwindled to almost nothing, right? They've picked us off one by one until there are too few of us to fight back, and we let them do it. What do you think we'll be able to do now?"

My heart pounds again at the thought. What does Aunt Magnolia have planned? How many of us are left to carry it out? I don't want any part of whatever it is, but if I don't help, if I don't take a stand with her, none of us will survive. Better to go out fighting than quietly surrender.

"You'll know when the time comes," Aunt Magnolia says as she stashes her new ID in her purse and weaponry, ammo, and clothing into our duffle bags. I search the shelves for anything else of use, ignoring the food because Lord only knows how long it has been here. "And that's exactly why we need to do this now before there aren't enough of us left to pull it off."

"Right," I snort. Why would she start telling me what I need to know now? I grab a box of red hair dye and hold it up for her inspection. "Just don't wait too long to keep me in the loop. So, let's go with red hair, I guess."

Half an hour later, I've kissed my waist-length blonde curls goodbye in favor of blunt bangs and straight red hair that falls to my shoulders. I flash a rueful glance at the pile of blonde curls left behind on the floor. It's going to be a pain to flat iron my hair every day to achieve this look, but I'll have to do it to keep up appearances. It feels freer, lighter. I could get used to this haircut. Aunt Magnolia has a chic bob, and she plays with the red tendrils as she inspects herself in the mirror. It gives her a polished, urban look so different from her free-spirited blonde curls. Even her outfit, a grey tunic top, black skinny slacks, and leather jacket, screams professional. I kind of miss her usual bohemian look, but it works for her. I'm wearing a black graphic t-shirt, a color I've never worn before in my life. and dark wash boot cut jeans. It gives my look an edge.

"Time to start our new life," Aunt Magnolia says.