Scarlet

they hadn’t gone a dozen steps when he halted mid-step.
    “What—”
    Wolf spun on her, clamping one hand behind her head, the other firmly over her mouth.
    Tensing, Scarlet moved to shove him away, but something gave her pause. He was staring off into the forest, brow furrowed. Tilting his nose up, he sniffed the air.
    When he was sure she wouldn’t make a sound, he snatched his hands away as if something had stung him. Scarlet stumbled back, surprised by the sudden release.
    They lingered, still and silent, Scarlet straining to listen for what had Wolf on edge. Slowly reaching behind her, she pulled the gun from her waistband. The click as she released the safety echoed off the trees.
    Off in the woods, a wolf howled. The lonely cry sent a shiver down Scarlet’s spine.
    Wolf didn’t seem surprised.
    Then, behind them, another howl, this one farther away. Then another to the north.
    Silence crept around them as the howls faded longingly into the air.
    “Friends of yours?” Scarlet asked.
    Clarity returned to Wolf’s expression and he glanced at her, then down at the gun. It struck her as odd that he could be startled by it, when the howls had garnered no reaction at all.
    “They won’t bother us,” he said finally, turning and heading down the tracks.
    With a snort, Scarlet trotted after him. “Well, isn’t that a relief. We’re stranded in wild wolf territory, but as long as you say they’re not going to bother us…” She clicked the gun’s safety back on and was tucking it back in her waistband when Wolf’s gesture gave her pause.
    “They won’t bother us,” he said again, almost smiling. “But you might want to keep that out anyway, just in case.”

 
    Nineteen
    “What is all this junk?” Cinder locked her jaw, straining to push a plastic crate that was almost as tall as she was.
    Thorne grunted beside her. “It’s—not—junk.” The tendons in his neck bulged as the crate collided with the cargo bay wall.
    Thorne tossed his arms over the top with a groan and Cinder collapsed against it. Her shoulders ached, as tense as the metal that made up her left leg, and her arms felt like they were about to fall off. But when she allowed herself to look around the cargo bay, a sense of accomplishment settled around her.
    All the crates had been slid to the walls, clearing an actual path from the cockpit to the living quarters. The smaller, lighter ones had been stacked on top of one another and some were left out as makeshift furniture in front of the main netscreen.
    It bordered on cozy.
    The next job would be to actually unpack the crates—the ones that were worth unpacking—but that would be a job for another day. “No, really,” she said when she’d found her breath. “What is all this?”
    Thorne slid down beside her and wiped his brow with his sleeve. “I don’t know,” he said, eyeing the stamped labels on the side of the nearest crate: an unhelpful code. “Supplies. Food. I think there are some guns in one of them. And I know I had a few sculptures from this really collectible second-era artist—I was going to make a fortune off of them, but I got arrested before I had a chance.” He sighed.
    Cinder squinted at him. Sure that the sculptures were stolen, she found it difficult to muster any sympathy. “Shame,” she muttered, thumping her head back against the crate.
    Thorne pointed at something on the far wall, his forearm jutting beneath Cinder’s nose. “What’s that?”
    She followed his gesture, frowned, and with a cranky moan pushed herself back to her feet. The corner of a metal frame could be seen behind a tall stack of crates they’d left against the wall. “A door.” She drew up the ship’s blueprint on her retina display. “The medbay?”
    Realization brightened Thorne’s face. “Oh, right. This ship does have one of those.”
    Cinder settled her fists on her hips. “You covered up the medbay ?”
    Thorne pulled himself up. “Never needed it.”
    “Don’t you think it might be good to have access to, just in case?”
    Thorne shrugged. “We’ll see.”
    Rolling her eyes, Cinder reached for the uppermost crate and hauled it down onto the floor, already disrupting their hard-won pathway. “How can we be sure there’s nothing in these boxes that can be tracked?”
    “What do you think I am, an amateur? Nothing entered this ship without being thoroughly inspected. Otherwise the Republic would have reclaimed it all a long time ago rather than let