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bustled with the Covenant. He had seen at least fourteen different types of mehkies swarming in and out of the domes, and he had only just started counting. There were chraida and those weirdo sheet-metal langyls, warriors like Orei, and others like the tripod creatures they had seen in Sen Ta’rine. Many were so strange he couldn’t make heads or tails of them.
    They were people—that’s what still rattled his brain. So many
kinds
of people. Sure, wandering through Albright City you’d see all kinds of folks—dark skin, light skin, long hair or no hair, big people and little people. But humans weren’t all that different from one another, not really. Not like mehkies.
    But the things that really lit Micah up were the siege engines. War machines, though that seemed like the wrong name since many were clearly breathing. He saw a walking catapult with a payload of spiky egg sacs and something like a wrinkly bulldozer with gnarls of serrated blades. Mehkies stoked fires in the bellies of cantankerous creatures. It was hard to tell the beasts from the equipment. There were warriors strapped into machines, and machines strapped onto warriors.
    It was too much. What was he doing here? A ten-year-old kid from Sodowa couldn’t measure up to this lot, even if he did have a Dervish rifle. But that just made him want to join the madness all the more. He dreamed of hopping on one of those siege engines and leading the charge with the Covenant at his back.
    His fantasy evaporated as he noticed the camp had fallen still. Mehkies bowed their heads and stepped aside to allow a figure to pass through their ranks—a sliver of rust, a silky veil draped over bony shoulders. Clad in her new shawl, Phoebe shuffled forward, ignoring the ripples of awe in her wake. She pulled back her hood in a splash of dark tangled hair, and Dollop touched his dynamo in respect. Micah just stared.
    He hadn’t seen Phoebe since the funeral. Her face was dead white with shiny scars of tears carved in her cheeks. Dark pouches weighted her gaze, brimming saucers ready to spill over any second. Yet her raw eyes were aglow. Maybe it was the patch of sun she was standing in, or maybe it was all the crying she had done, but Phoebe’s pupils seemed lit from within. They were chopped wood, bristling with splinters, sparkling with sap.
    They were so sad. So…pretty.
    â€œWhat?” Phoebe asked in a sandpaper voice.
    â€œHuh?” Micah mumbled stupidly as he looked away and adjusted the gun strap on his shoulder. “No, nothin’.”
    â€œAre you ok-kay, Phoebe?” Dollop asked. “I—I mean Loaii.”
    â€œWhat’s with the ‘Loaii’ stuff anyway?” Micah asked, feeling his senses snap back. “Why’s everyone callin’ you that?”
    â€œI…” Phoebe said. “I don’t know.” She glanced at the surrounding mehkies, who slowly resumed their business.
    â€œI tried to get in to see you,” Micah explained, “but the axials wouldn’t let me.”
    â€œI know. Thanks,” said Phoebe. “We should get started.”
    â€œSure thing,” Micah replied. “After you, Dollop.”
    Their little friend perked up at the sound of his name. “R-r-right! Follow m-me!”
    He led them through the crowd to the central domed tent. Inside was a stuffy, jumbled commotion, with Covenant warriors hustling through passageways, hauling massive bundles to and fro. A few of the mehkies paused to stare at the kids, nodding in regard, but most ignored the humans entirely.
    Dollop saluted his comrades and watched for some sort of acknowledgement, but he received none.
    â€œTh-this way. I—I think,” Dollop chimed as he led the kids through a low corridor. “Be-behind the indruli dens. Th-they’re nocturnal and can get kind of…b-b-bitey if you wake them, so…”
    Micah snorted. “Full of comforting lil’