The Forsaken

prepare lunch?”
    I nod, deciding not to push the David issue right now. I know Gadya’s not going to back down. I feel guilty that I haven’t been able to do more for David already. At least he’s in our village now, instead of out in the forest. I’m confident that Veidman will quickly figure out he’s telling the truth and set him free.
    “So I’m guessing lunch is hoofer stew?” I ask Gadya.
    “Yeah, but with some grubs and worms mixed in for protein.”
    “Seriously?”
    Gadya smiles, unable to keep a straight face. “Just messing with you. See, you’re still too gullible. We gotta work on that.” She spits on the ground. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I eat an insect.”
    We head over to a makeshift cooking area forty paces from the fire pit. Around us everyone seems busy, although I’m not exactly sure what they’re doing. Cooking pots hang from triangular frames made from tree branches, over low flames.
    I notice Rika standing next to a tureen made from a hollowed log. She waves as we approach.
    Behind her, two boys are carving up a hoofer carcass, cutting the marbled meat with razorlike blades that must have been sharpened on rocks. The boys work quickly and efficiently, slicing the meat into thin strips and hanging it on branches to cure in the sun.
    “Rika takes cooking seriously, and she’s really good at it,” Gadya tells me as we near. “If it weren’t for her, things would be worse in the village. It’s hard to fight on an empty stomach.”
    When we reach Rika, she’s stirring a thin brown liquid with a stick. Lumps of greasy hoofer meat bob near the surface. It looks revolting, but smells surprisingly good. “Grab a stick and start stirring,” Rika tells me.
    Gadya leans over and sniffs. “Not bad.”
    “Considering what I have to work with, it’s a frigging gourmet masterpiece. Now someone help me stir already.”
    I rummage on the ground, find a stick, and wipe it down. “Will this work?”
    “Yup.”
    I take over the stirring duties as Rika begins chopping up a green cabbage-like plant. The smell of the stew makes my mouth water. I hold the stick up and lick it, sneaking a taste. It’s tangy, like sweet-and-sour sauce.
    I hear Rika and Gadya start laughing. They’ve been watching me. “Thumbs up or thumbs down?” Rika asks. “Be honest.”
    I give her a thumbs up.
    “Feel free to keep sampling. I always do.”
    I stick my finger in and lick it showily. Rika laughs again.
    So I stand there with the two girls, talking and laughing as we prepare the stew together. Other kids stop by and help. I try to catch their names, but there are so many of them that they tumble together into a blur of tanned faces and shaggy hair.
    I realize that I almost feel safe, despite what happened last night, and despite the fact that David has been imprisoned. The wheel is definitely a terrifying, violent place—fraught with danger—but right now this village is a place of refuge, and I’m grateful to have found it.

TIGER STRIKE
    TWO HOURS LATER, ALMOST all the members of the village are sitting around the fire pit, scarfing down Rika’s stew for lunch. Veidman has returned from administering the truth serum to David. I was hoping that David would join us, but there’s no sign of him.
    “David was telling the truth even before we gave him the serum,” Veidman says, standing up on his tree stump to address the crowd. “Or at least he seemed to be, at first.”
    Everyone starts murmuring.
    “Where is he, then?” a boy calls out.
    “Still in the kennels.” Veidman runs a hand through his blond hair. “Although he passed the truth test, Meira and I still thought his story was suspicious. We think he might be a different class of drone. One who’s been prepared in advance to answer our questions and endure the serum, or maybe—through hypnosis or other means—he has had some kind of secret agenda implanted in his mind. Until we have time to interrogate him further, we’re going to keep him locked up.”
    Hypnosis? The whole thing seems completely implausible to me. “But—” I begin to say. Heads immediately turn in my direction. I fall silent.
    I’m nervous to speak in front of such a large gathering, and I also don’t want to say the wrong thing. I know that David is genuine, and I’m worried for him, but I have to tread carefully. I clear my throat. “If he passed the truth test, then I don’t understand why you still don’t believe him.” I ignore the