By the time Koffi emerged from Makena’s tent, the encampment was nearly unrecognizable. The tents that’d been staked all around were gone, giving her for the first time an unobstructed view of their surroundings. They were in open marshlands; green grass stretched for miles around, and a wispy, lingering fog hung low over it. She turned, then ducked, barely missing the giant rolled-up canvas that went over her head as two young darajas who’d escaped Fedu’s realm with her carried it past on their shoulders. They offered her smiles as they headed toward Ano, who was standing in the middle of the three wagons and pointing left and right as if directing traffic.
    “Put that food in wagon two, it should have been sealed already!” she snapped. “Linens and bedrolls go in wagon three. Let’s move, people! Though I may look it, I am certainly not getting any younger standing around!”
    Koffi looked around the rest of the campsite, trying to find something to do before Ano spotted her. Her heart did an impressive arrangement of cartwheels as she noticed Ekon making his way across the campsite with a basket held against his torso.
  Talk to him, she told herself. You’ve barely spoken since you woke up. And before that . . . Koffi gnawed at her bottom lip. She and Ekon hadn’t discussed the fact that he’d come all the way from Lkossa to find her. When she’d seen him in the Temple of Lkossa’s sky garden, he’d been bloodied and broken, and she hadn’t been able to give him any clues about where she’d gone. He’d still found her. That had to mean something, she just didn’t know where that something left the two of them, and thinking about it made her palms sweaty.
  Just talk to him.
    The decision was made for her when, a second later, Ekon looked up, noticed her, and changed direction so that he was heading straight toward her. Koffi tried to keep her breath even as he approached. And then he was just there, standing right before her.
    “Hey,” he said warmly.
    “Uh . . . hi.”
    “It’s good to see you up and about.”
  Do not say something ridiculous, say something normal. Koffi cleared her throat. “That’s a nice basket you’ve got there. What’s in it?”
    “Um . . . dirty clothes.”
    “Oh. Great.” Ridiculous.
Ekon shifted the basket in question to one arm, and it took Koffi a considerable amount of effort not to look at his biceps as they flexed. She wanted to kick herself. Baskets? Baskets?
    “Ten minutes!” Ano shouted to their left. “We are leaving in exactly ten minutes, people! I give you all fair warning: Relieve yourselves before we depart. There will be no unscheduled breaks on my caravan!”
    “But what if there’s an emergency?” asked Zain innocently as he passed Ano with an armful of crates. Koffi thought she heard an undertone of mischief in the question.
    The woman frowned. “The same thing that happened the last time, you impertinent boy. You will use a disaster bucket!”
    Koffi met Ekon’s eye. They lasted for about a second before they both burst into a fit of laughter. Koffi relaxed fractionally, relieved that it was that easy to go back to some semblance of the way they’d once been. “Disaster buckets?” she repeated.
    Ekon pretended to look solemn. “The less you know, the better.” He cracked a smile.
    “I’ll give that Ano lady one thing,” she said as they watched her continue to yell at Zain. “She sure knows how to take charge.”
    Something empowered her then, and she took a step closer to him. It was only a tiny difference in space, but she felt the change instantly. She tried to ignore the heat rising in her face as she put a hand on Ekon’s arm. “Thank you, Ekon,” she said quietly, “for finding me.”
    Ekon’s expression shifted. There was an intensity in it that made her warm all over. He opened his mouth, started to say something—
    “Ekon!”
    They both looked up, stepped apart, and every muscle in Koffi’s body seized.
    A beautiful young woman was heading straight toward them. She had an angular face, a dancer’s gait, and long black hair tied into a single neat braid. At once Koffi became uncomfortably aware of the state of her own uncombed hair. She said nothing as the girl stopped before them.
    “I think we might have a problem,” she said to Ekon. She turned. “You must be Koffi.” She said it the same way Ano had—as a fact, not a question—then extended a hand. “I’m Safiyah.”
    “Nice to meet you.” They both let their hands drop after a quick shake, and an awkwardness lingered. Koffi looked to Ekon and noticed that his lips had formed a tight line. He was still tapping his fingers against the basket, but at a much faster cadence. Was it in her head, or did he now look uncomfortable? Was it because of her, or Safiyah, or both of them?
    “Uh, you said there was a problem?” he asked Safiyah.
    She nodded, looking focused again. “It’s the group’s roster. We’re supposed to have twenty-one people. Ano asked me to account for everyone here, but we’re one person short.”
    Ekon frowned. “Who’s missing?”
    “One of the darajas,” said Safiyah. She faced Koffi again. “Maybe you know him? His name’s Amun.”
    Koffi started. “I do know him.” In all the morning’s activity, she suddenly realized that Amun was the only one of her friends she hadn’t run into yet. “No one’s seen him?”
    Safiyah shook her head, worrying at her braid. “Not since he went on patrol duty earlier. I’ve counted twice.”
    Ekon stopped tapping. “That’s odd.” To both of them, he said, “Let the others know, and have everyone spread out to look for him. He’s got to be around here somewhere.”
    All three of them went in different directions, and Koffi fought a growing sense of unease. He’s fine, she told herself as she started looking around. Safiyah probably just miscounted. He’s fine.
    It didn’t take long for the news of Amun’s absence to spread; soon, everyone was looking for him. The problem was, with most of the camp already packed and loaded into the three wagons, there were few places the daraja could have hidden. A knot in Koffi’s stomach tightened.
    “Ano told everyone to relieve themselves before we left.” Zain jumped down from the back of one of the wagons to join the rest of the group congregating at the camp’s center. “Maybe he went a little farther out into the marsh to . . . ah, take care of business?”
    “I was clear about our departure time,” said Ano. Her arms were crossed. “He should be back.”
    It was undeniable now; a new, palpable nervousness hung in the air. Koffi fidgeted.
    “Some of us can go into the marsh and conduct a search,” said Ekon. His expression was stoic and composed, the way it always was when he made a plan. Koffi found herself reminded of the way he’d looked the first time he’d made a plan with her, back before they’d even left Lkossa and gone into the Greater Jungle. It calmed her a little.
    “The rest of us should stay here,” Ekon continued, “just in case he—”
    “Wait!” The bald man with the golden earring, the one Koffi had seen while she and Makena had been talking before, was staring out into the marshlands and pointing. “I think I see him. He’s headed this way!”
    There was a collective sigh, and several shoulders relaxed as the words carried. Relief flooded Koffi as she looked in the direction the man had pointed and saw Amun’s familiar silhouette racing toward them through the marshlands’ fog.
    “Unbelievable,” Njeri muttered. “So he was relieving—” The rest of the words died on her lips. When Koffi peered closer, she saw why.
    Amun had come to a stop at the edge of the campsite, standing perfectly still. From a distance, the fog had allowed Koffi only to make out his silhouette; closer, what she saw cooled her blood. The daraja’s clothes were in tatters, ripped and torn from head to toe. His face was frozen in horror.
    “They’re coming,” he rasped in a voice that wasn’t his. “They’re coming for us all.”
    “Amun?” Njeri stepped forward, her wooden staff already gripped tight in her fist. “Where have you been?”
    “They’re coming,” Amun repeated. His body began to tremble, a line of urine dribbling down his leg. Koffi’s stomach turned.
    “Who, boy?” asked Ano. “Who is coming?”
    Amun’s expression grew blank as he stared beyond them. “Coming,” he whispered. “They’re coming, they’re—”
    Koffi noticed the metal glint a half second too late. A warning rose in her throat, but she could do nothing to stop the arrow as it flew through the air and lodged itself in the back of Amun’s neck. She could do nothing to help the daraja as he fell to the ground, and moved no more.