Ignis shoves Warren so hard he sprawls in the dirt.
“Ow!”
“Shut up.”
Warren bites back a retort and rubs his stinging hands together. At least it’s not wet today. For once, Sand’s End had a damp winter, but the chill meant the insects’ early waking has been hard on them. Gradually, the cold is giving way to a tentative spring. A few clouds waft across the sky this morning but it’s otherwise clear. Warren closes his eyes as the sun touches his face. For the last two weeks, he’s been dragged to the tiny chemical cage nestled between the glasshouses, every day.
“Sort them out,” Maxen keeps saying.
Warren tells him they want more space.
Last time he said that, Maxen backhanded him across the face and left his jaw bruised. He hasn’t mentioned it again.
The only thing he did manage to ge
