Madas launched herself head-first toward a log, then briefly supported her weight with one hand against the rough, soggy wood as she pushed herself up and over the thick trunk in a practiced flip. Her booted feet hit the soft forest bed without making a sound.
She kept glancing at the sky as she ran. The streak of the contrail was still visible. Given the way it angled downward, she was getting close to where the object should have crashed.
“This is it, L’eon. I just know it. This is our chance to get off world,” she said to the pet lizard clinging to her shoulder.
Her mind swirled with all the things she would need to do to make that happen. Her mother, Queen Tima, had expressly ordered everyone to make sure Madas remained confined to the royal quarters whenever traders were here. That
