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happened?” Jory’s face went ashen when he saw his brother lying on the tarp.
    “He got hit in the head. It was a meteor … or … maybe debris—just help me!” Piper stammered. She’d been calm before because she had to be, for Micah, but she could feel herself starting to come apart. “We have to get him inside and warm.”
    Jory had been staring at Micah—lifeless and pale, blood soaking through his bandages as he lay on the tarp—but Piper’s words galvanized him. He took one end of the tarp and helped her drag it to his house, which thankfully wasn’t far. She didn’t think she could have made it back to her own house.
    “There’s a caravan wrecked in the fields,” Piper said haltingly. Even with Jory pulling most of Micah’s weight, her arms shook with weariness, and her breath came insharp gasps that burned in her chest. “Meteorites destroyed most of it, but I found some medicine packs, food, and clothes. I couldn’t carry it all. You should go back and get them.” Piper waited for him to say something, but he didn’t even look at her. His face was frozen in a mask of shock. “Are you listening, Jory? Get the healer for Micah, then go out to the fields and get the medicine packs. You can use them to pay for the healer. Do you hear me?”
    “I hear you,” Jory said hoarsely, coming out of his trance. “We need to get him inside first. I’ll take his head and shoulders; you lift his legs. Once we get him there, we’ll put him in bed and I’ll go.”
    As gently as she could, Piper did as he told her. She couldn’t stand seeing Jory like this—she’d never seen him look so scared. “I’m telling you, there’s a week’s supply of food out there in the fields,” she said, trying to distract him from his brother. “So much I couldn’t carry it all. If you hurry, you can get the rest before anyone sees the caravan wreck.” She babbled on, her voice shaking, but she couldn’t make herself shut up. She just kept telling Jory to go get the medicine packs, to use them to pay for a healer, as if that would somehow make up for the fact that his brother was unconscious with a bleeding head wound and maybe wouldn’t wake up. But Piper kept repeating the words until her throat was so tight she couldn’t talk anymore. Then she noticed that, aside from them, the house was empty.
    “I forgot—your parents aren’t home yet,” she croaked. They didn’t know their little boy was hurt, that they might never see him alive again.
    “They won’t be back until tomorrow,” Jory said. Gently, they laid Micah down on his bed. Jory covered him with a blanket.
    As soon as Micah was tucked in, Jory headed for the door. His face was still deathly pale, but he spoke calmly. “You’ll stay with him, won’t you, Piper? I’ll be back as soon as I find a healer.”
    Mute, Piper nodded. She wouldn’t leave him alone. When Jory left, she stood beside the bed, looking down at Micah. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have looked after you better.” She was older, stronger; she was supposed to protect him, but she’d failed. What would Micah’s parents think of her? They always said Micah looked up to Piper like a big sister.
    She stared at Micah for a long time, willing him to open his eyes, to point and laugh at her for crying and carrying on like this. But he never moved. There was only silence in the room until the door opened and Jory was back with one of the healers in tow.
    The older man was much more finely dressed than Piper and Jory, his tailored suit as nice as any worn by the Trade Consortium representatives. He elbowed Piper aside and pulled up a chair beside the bed. Jory stood on Micah’s other side, watching anxiously as the healer examined his brother.
    Piper wanted to stay to hear what the healer would say about Micah’s injury, but she suddenly remembered the girl. If she woke up while Piper was gone, she wouldn’t know where she was or what had happened to her.
    “I