Mila and Perry stood with Finn looking down at the refugee camp. Rows of tents stretched into the distance, the glow of tiny fires interspersing the darkness as cries of children mingled with the barking of dogs and the sound of a fiddle. Music brought hope no matter how dark the night and somewhere down there, someone still believed in a future.
They had traveled by day on the river, propelled by the current and Mila’s magic pushing them ever faster but now it looked as if finding Sienna in this labyrinth would be almost impossible.
Perry gazed out at the tent city. “How many people do you think there are down there?”
Finn’s expression hardened. “I’ve heard this camp has over one hundred thousand, and the same again by the western gate, with rumors of more camps.” He spun to face Perry
