"TESTING."

The flat screen of the television broadcaster speckles with spots of black and white as it comes to life, audio crackling like popcorn.

"We're live and on the air." The face of a man comes into view for a second before it becomes a series of dots again.

"Mavlo, you mutt," another man speaks. "Get out."

"I'm no mutt--"

"You are mixed, all the same," he interrupts bitterly. "Out!"

The picture slowly comes into view as Wren fools with the cords behind the television.

"There!" Rayah stops her when the picture is clear.

"This is Emerson Deerchild reporting," the man on the television speaks. "Viewers, our civilization remains in a state of emergency."

Down in the Ravens' burrow, my fellow black-feathered equals gather together before the television, awaiting the message that will soon be broadcasted to us from the highest Purebred authorities. The screen dissolves into a photo of the infamous--

"Metro Riverton..."

I am not the least bit shocked.

"...has yet to be incarcerated," Deerchild continues. "His location remains undetectable." A series of numbers appear at the bottom of the screen. "To report a suspected sighting of Riverton, please contact your local Class A authorities immediately."

"You don't look phased, Metro," Titus speaks from beside me. Sommer tucks herself behind him.

"It has been confirmed that Riverton is responsible for the murder of Justice Rupert, the former dean of Campion University."

"I did kill the man," I reply to Titus. He stares at me for a moment before looking at the screen again.

Wren picks up her infant from its crib. It squeals until she brings it to her breast to feed.

"What's your baby's name?" Sommer speaks for the first time in days. I notice Titus smile slightly.

"He's not mine," Wren responds, lifting her head to address Sommer. "What do you think his name should be?"

Sommer purses her lips in thought.

"Beau," she states. "Because he's beautiful, and it's the only French word I know."

"Beau it is." Wren smiles warmly.

"Riverton is a dangerous criminal, known to have frequent psychotic episodes..."

"Psychotic episodes?" I question.

"Wait for it," Wren stops me.

"...and is thought to be affiliated with other mentally insane gang members."

A young man across the room addresses me. "They make this shit up for all of us." He appears to have albinism, complexion and hair lacking pigment of any kind. "Make us look insane in hope that nobody will take us seriously," he scoffs, his eyes a milky blue.

"The 'mentally insane gang members' he's talking about are us." Wren shakes her head. The infant, Beau, presses his small hand against her chest as he feeds contently.

"Where are Beau's parents?" Titus asks her. Wren shrugs her shoulders.

"I found him wrapped in a blanket in a cardboard box," Rayah responds. "Abandoned. Wren and I will raise him as best we can."

"Riverton has been witnessed communicating with three mutts in particular," Deerchild's dark expression is framed by the strands of hair that lay lifelessly beside his long face. "Sommer Rayne, Jagger Rayne, and," he hesitates. "Titus?"

"How did they discover this information?" I question, as photos of Sommer and Jagger dissolve across the screen.

"I bet from Athena," Titus states blankly. "She's the only one who's seen us all together." He signs. "She wouldn't want anything about me made public."

"The mother of suspects Sommer and Jagger Rayne has been interrogated..." Video footage of Chloe Rayne is presented on the screen.

"Sommer, they've found your mom," Titus turns to her. She says nothing.

"You do not monitor your own children?" the purebred reporter aggressively questions the drunken Mrs. Rayne.

"I don't know where they are, you bastards!" She stumbles toward the camera angrily. "Get the hell out of my house!"

Deerchild is restored to the screen. "It is thought by our leading Class A psychologists that Rayne's narcotics abuse has attributed to the mental well-being of her already mutt children..."

"I have heard enough," I turn from the television and find the nearest chair. The many atrocities that have been committed solely in this report make me sick to my stomach.

"I agree, Metro," Rayah extends her arm to provide comfort to Sommer, who sits beside me, sulking at the television reporter. "I believe August is nearly finished setting up." I notice the young man sitting on the other side of the room, fooling with cords, cameras, and what appear to be satellite dishes.

"What is he doing?" Sommer asks.

Rayah smiles. "He is breaking into the Class A news network so that our feed can be broadcasted to the entire population."

"We'll tell them the truth," Sommer states calmly.

"Good idea, but it's not foolproof," Titus adds. "What if the people watching don't believe us? Or worse, what if the purebreds can track down our location using the signals we're broadcasting?"

August rises to address Titus.

"I am a graduate of the finest, Class A Computer Science faculty at Campion University," August proclaims across the room. "I was trained to be a 'hacker', in a sense. I have the exact same credentials as any of the 'hackers' on the side of the purebreds." He returns to his work.

"Shit. You have all sorts here," Titus remarks.

"But we're all equal," Wren adds brightly. "Like I said before, you guys were never alone. Lots of people have questioned authority like you have, but the purebred officials make them look insane in an attempt to make the population think anyone who rebels is stupid. That's what they did to your mom, Sommer."

"What?"

"When they discovered your parents were getting all that secret information about them," Wren continues. "They needed to make your family look insane so no one would take you seriously. Your mom turned to drugs--"

"I'll never forgive her," Sommer states, taking a slow breath inwards. Wren nods in understanding and does not continue. The others turn their attention to Emerson Deerchild once more.

"Metro." Sommer turns to me. "It's all up to us now," she says.

"We are expected to become part of this revolt, yes," I respond. "Obviously we are."

"No. I mean, we have to sit in front of that camera," she points to August. "And tell the world our story."

"I assume Rayah will do the speaking," I advise her.

"No, Metro. It has to be us," she urges. "You, me, and Titus. We have to tell them everything. About you, about Titus, and Jagger too. The people need to hear that. They need to hear you say why you shot Rupert."

Her eyes fill with the hope I have only felt through the heart of a young child. Her stare is powerful. For the first time during these few days, I notice Sommer's lack of makeup. The once thick layers of powder, glitter, and dark lines that exaggerated her facial features have been wiped clean, and all that is left are her hopeful eyes, filled with a power I have never seen before. She has pulled the hair from her face and no longer hides her voice behind that extravagance. This is Sommer, in her pure form.

"Never have I seen a person with such drive and power as you." I smile. "You, in this very moment."

She grins proudly as I lean to kiss her cheek.