Morning light crept in through the torn seams of the tent, a thin, dusty gold that made everything look softer than it was. For the first time since being dragged here, I woke up unbound. My wrists still burned from the ropes, raw and tender, but at least now I could move.

Mattias was gone. The blankets where he'd sat were flattened, still faintly warm, though his iron-smoke still lingered. I heard muffled voices coming from outside, the scrape of metal, and boots on dirt.

A man I didn't ...