Thirty-One
Solma skids into the village, her blade-foot kicking up dust. She’d hoped to arrive before the news but raised voices and a gathering crowd tell her she’s too late. She makes it to Bell’s house before any violence starts. Bell is at the front door, both hands on Warren’s shoulders, frowning down the path towards where the villagers congregate. Solma glances at Warren and her insides twist painfully. Earth, he looks tired. His sunken eyes with their drooping lids, his cracked lips slightly parted, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. He gazes at Solma as she jogs towards him and she sees fear sweep across his eyes.
“They’ve been spotted, Sol,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I tried. I really did. I tried to tell them but—”
His little face crumples and Solma kneels in front of him, cuppi
