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wriggles, shameless and gory.
    ‘Welcome back!’ snaps Lil. ‘Now here’s what you have to do if you don’t want me to kill you …’
    She winces at his slowness, wonders if speech is the only thing he lacks as he plods, donkey-like under the lash of her voice, gathering the tools to save her life. She directs him to what she would call ‘the good stuff’, medical supplies that have been transformed into relics since the Overseer’s arrival.
    All business, she stabs herself with a needle, eyes popping open with artificial alertness.
    ‘Okay, stranger, the first thing we’ve got to do is clean out the wound. Those amateurs were using cheap-assed shrapnel guns, which is about the only reason I’m still talking. There’s a hand scanner and a pair of tweezers you can use. Don’t waste the battery, we don’t have any spares.’
    His hands fumble about the job, hesitant, and Lil’s patience rapidly vanishes. ‘Just stop, please! Scav’s teeth, I’ve got more chance of saving myself! Just pick up that mirror and hold it like I tell you, okay?’
    The Vagrant nods, lips pressed together.
    ‘All you have to do is keep it steady.’
    Chemicals silence the pain in her side and she works quickly, no time left for squeamishness. Jagged bits of metal clink as they’re dropped into the dish, shy at first, they allow themselves to come free with growing eagerness. She takes a handful of Skyn, slathering grey jelly all over the wound. Instantly it adheres, staunching the blood and darkening in approximation of Lil’s muddy skin.
    ‘There, that wasn’t so bad,’ she says, as much to herself as anyone else. ‘Nothing I can’t do with enough drugs and medtech. These corpses used to work for the Overseer, so we’d better not hang around. I don’t know what’s going on but I’m damn sure it’s your fault.’
    She jabs a finger at the Vagrant, who leans against the tent pole. He peers at her. Slowly his eyes close.
    ‘Hey, are you …?’
    Before she can finish, the Vagrant slides down the pole and topples over.
    ‘… Oh, that’s just great!’
    The wound is small and clean. She assumes he has passed out through shock rather than blood loss.
    Lil has seen a lot of bodies in her life, each with a story to tell, most depressingly similar.
    On this body a few things catch her eye. The man bears the blade of a Seraph Knight, which immediately marks him out as a fugitive, yet his hands are callused as much through labour as combat. She turns them over to find smooth skin, the little hairs recently burned away. She notes his tongue is still intact.
    Carefully, she removes the bullet. It has gone deep and released its payload but there are no spider web signs of skin degeneration. Amazed, she probes further until she sees the Burrowmaw’s inert tail, tucked under his rib. Snagging it on a tiny hook, Lil works it out with slow, steady pressure, till finally the mouth sac comes loose. The little creature smokes in her hand; something has cooked it from the inside.
    It joins the shrapnel in the dish.
    The suns rise together, dividing the sky like a god’s standard. Lil and the Vagrant step cautiously into the daylight. Ventris remains where he fell, face down in the dust opposite Lil’s door. His boots have not.
    Sounds of fighting are heard from the fields. News of the Overseer’s death has spread quickly and people are keen to take advantage of the spoils before a replacement arrives. The goat wishes to join them, spitting out fabric fingertips in anticipation of greater prizes. Again the Vagrant holds firm to her leash but the goat senses weakness and pulls, rewarded with feet sliding in the dust.
    The Vagrant regains his balance, grits his teeth but Lil puts a hand on his arm.
    ‘She’s got a point, we all need to eat. If we’re going to have a chance out there we’ll need supplies and goods to trade. There’s a fortune to be had in the fields.’
    He glances to her hand and back to her face.
    ‘What? You got