They work through the night: digging, gathering, building. By morning, their skin is oily with sweat. Exhaustion hangs over their shoulders like a heavy, rain-soaked cloak. The wound on Hope's arm throbs with pain, but she doesn't stop. When their preparations are complete, they go over the plan a final time. Cat turns to Iris and Diana.

"You're our eyes and ears," he tells them. "When you see any sign of the enemy, get back here as soon as possible. Otherwise, we're dead. Got it?"

They nod solemnly and take off in a dead run.

The sun is poking above the hills when Scylla gestures that she's put together breakfast. On top of all the heavy lifting, she's also managed to cook a bubbling stew of squirrel, mushrooms, and wild onions. To Hope, it seems nothing less than a feast. Even though she finds herself seated next to Book, they avoid looking at each other.

"We're too young to die," Flush says.

It comes out of nowhere, and yet Hope realizes it's the same thought everyone's having.

She suddenly feels Book's arm press against hers, the warm flesh of his skin. She doesn't move away. Maybe it's fatigue, maybe it's regret at what she said to him, maybe it's something else. The only thing she knows for sure is that all of her senses are heightened. There's something soothing about his touch, flesh against flesh, and for the first time she begins to understand why she's so drawn to him. It goes back to that first meeting in the barn, and the kindness in his eyes. There was warmth there. Comfort. Safety.

It occurs to her that Book is more of a protector than she realizes-maybe not against wolves, but against those forces that tug at her heart. Cat may know what actions to take, but Book knows her.

Her cheeks warm and she opens her mouth to speak to him . . . just as the two scouts rush back to camp. Book pulls away.

"They're on their way," Diana announces, her face red from running.

"How many?" Cat asks calmly.

"About two dozen."

"Brown Shirts or Hunters?"

"Hunters. All on four-wheelers."

Hope feels her throat go dry. In terms of numbers, it's a fair fight. But as far as weapons go, it's not even close.

"Grab some food," Cat tells the two Sisters. "Then head to your positions."

Iris and Diana fall to the ground and stuff themselves with stew. Cat turns to the others and meets their eyes.

"What're we waiting for?" he asks, tossing the rest of his breakfast to Argos. They pick up their weapons and begin heading to their stations. Hope shares a quick glance with Book and then races off. Neither says a final word.

STILLNESS IS IN THE air. The only sounds are the breezes through the trees, dropping dead pine needles to the ground with a whisper.

And the beating of our hearts.

It's impossible not to think of all the deaths-Frank, June Bug, the two Brown Shirts, the Hunters at the gas station. At what point would it stop? When would we be allowed to live our lives without fear of being hunted?

We were spread out along the hillside, tucked behind boulders, buried in branches. Sweaty palms and curled fingers clutched weapons, waiting for the moment of attack.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.

Shakespeare, drifting through my mind like smoke.

I peek above a boulder, searching for Hope. I cared for her; that was the truth of it. She might've been angry or disappointed in me, or liked Cat a whole lot more, but the fact was she seemed to understand me in a way no one else did . . . and I thought I understood her. I recognized that haunted look in her eyes. I knew that kind of pain. And I wanted to be the one to comfort her, to hold her in the night when the demons wouldn't leave.

It was suddenly important that I find her-that I catch her eye, some glimpse of her in the dead and dying trees. But she was nowhere to be found.

I jumped when I heard the sound of engines. Their menacing growl made them sound like fifty or a hundred, and when I spied the Hunters, my breath caught. There they were on their armor-plated ATVs, and this time they wore Kevlar jackets. Black helmets with thick plastic shields safeguarded their faces. A herd of wild beasts, come to prey on twenty-seven innocent victims.

Twitch and Diana were halfway down the ridge. Even from my position at the top of the hill, I could only imagine how scared they must have been. They were completely exposed.

The four-wheelers got closer. Three hundred yards became two. Then one.

I could make out the Man in Orange. Unlike the others, he wore no Kevlar, just a blaze orange vest, as if he didn't fear our paltry ammunition. No helmet, either. Just a baseball cap.

One side of his face glistened pink with pus and blood, courtesy of the propane blast.

"Hold on," I whispered, as if Twitch and Diana could hear me. "Just hold on."

Twitch and Diana did. Finally, when they could wait no longer, when the Hunters were nearly on them, they rose and ran, tearing over the dead pine needles and racing back up the slope like two rocks skipping across a brown sea.

The Man in Orange gave a slight nod, and four of his comrades gunned their engines and took off in pursuit. They whipped through the forest, sliding effortlessly around the dead trees as though skiing an obstacle course. Twitch had trouble with the incline. Our time in the Flats had weakened him and it was all he could do to keep churning his gangly legs forward. Meanwhile, the four-wheelers grew closer and closer, the gap narrowing by the second.

"Come on!" Flush shouted, pleading for his friend.

Cat nocked an arrow. The Sisters readied crossbows.

The ATVs had nearly reached Twitch and Diana. The Hunter in front lifted a hand from the handlebar and removed an enormous knife from its sheath. Only ten yards separated its gleaming, serrated edge from Twitch's neck.

"Hurry!" I shouted, my words drowned out by the growling engines.

The knife-wielding Hunter had nearly caught up to Twitch, when, suddenly, Diana stopped and ducked. Then Twitch did the same. Before the Hunter could figure out what happened, his head snapped back and he was flung off his four-wheeler. He landed hard on the ground, his vehicle slamming into a tree. The next two riders were yanked off their vehicles as they ran into the fishing line we'd strung between trees. A fourth rider raised his hand to shield his face and his fingers were sliced off. Blood gushed forth.

We let loose a cheer. Cat, Red, Flush, and Dozer rose and pulled back arrows. Five Sisters aimed their crossbows. Even before the four Hunters had a chance to catch their breath, they were riddled with darts and arrows. Another cheer rose from our ranks.

Four down, twenty to go.

The Man in Orange scowled. The Hunters inched their way forward, cutting the braided line to pieces with their massive knives. The fishing line fell to the ground.

They began moving up the hill, firing their M4s. The bullets pinged off granite boulders and embedded in tree trunks. We stayed low, waiting for Cat to give us the signal. I shot him a pleading glance. Finally, when it seemed we could wait no longer, he let out a piercing whistle.

In groups of two, we rose and leaned on branches positioned beneath the boulders. The enormous stones budged, shifted, then began rolling down the hill, picking up speed.

The one I launched collided dead-on with a Hunter, bouncing over the metal plates of his vehicle and catching him square in the chest. He went tumbling to the ground, flattened and bloody. The boulder rolled off him and continued its descent, scattering ATVs.

We raced up the slope to the next sets of boulders. Four Fingers and I were lucky; we managed to throw ourselves behind cover without getting hit.

Others were not so lucky. To the far right I saw someone go sprawling-a Sister, by the looks of it. I couldn't tell who it was, but I prayed it wasn't Hope. The air was suddenly alive with lead and smoke.

When the bullets waned, Four Fingers and I repeated our actions and sent an unwieldy granite stone careening down the hill, scattering Hunters. Enough time for the Sisters to fire off a quick succession of darts. We raced to the next boulder and dove behind it. There was a fourth station to get to, but I wasn't convinced we'd make it.

Their bullets were coming fast, ricocheting off stone and splintering trees, making the air sing. We cowered behind rocks, ducking beneath the whizzing bullets. At this rate, we'd have no chance at pulling off the rest of our plan. We were stuck-helplessly pinned down. Unless we did something-soon-we'd be dead before we even got to the next phase of our attack.

Hope didn't wait for Cat's signal. She got up and took off, darting between trees so that none of the Hunters were able to get a clean shot. One of them gunned his four-wheeler, chasing after her.

My breath caught at the sight of her; she was still alive! But she was visibly panting, and the ATV had no problem closing the gap. He raised his weapon and tried to steady it. Hope zigzagged behind trees. The Hunter waited for just the right moment. The perfect shot.

Hope broke into a small clearing. It was madness, leaving the safety of the woods, but she tore straight up a small hill in the open ground. The Hunter revved his engine and followed. She was as good as dead. Nothing separated the Hunter from his prey.

"Come on, Hope! Come on!!" I yelled. "Get out of there!" Soon others were chanting as well.

"Hurry up, Hope!"

"He's right behind you!"

Then, without warning, Hope disappeared. Completely vanished. Here one moment, gone the next. A fraction of a second later, the Hunter's vehicle went airborne as though launched from a rocket pad. The four-wheeler sailed in one direction, the Hunter in the other. Both landed with ground-thumping thuds.

Hope popped up out of a tiny foxhole. On the downslope side was the ramp she and Scylla had created from rocks and logs, covered with pine needles. One moment the Hunter was gunning his ATV, ready to extinguish her life . . . and the next he was soaring through the air.

Now he writhed in pain, his left leg bent at a grotesque angle. Hope steadied a crossbow and fired a dart that pierced the Hunter's groin. No Kevlar there.

One less Hunter . . . and Hope was still alive. My heart hammered in relief.

We'd survived the first three phases of our plan-fishing line, boulder rolls, and ramps-and still more than half of the Hunters were uninjured. We were running out of options.

Cat gave a double whistle and we scrambled up the hill. Below us, Hunters moved forward like an advancing tidal wave, their engines rattling our teeth. We reached the crest of the hill and lowered ourselves into shallow foxholes. We were down to our final scheme. If this didn't work, we'd have to run.

I tried to swallow, but couldn't. We'd been in tough situations before, but nothing like this.

Dozer began freaking out. "I can't do this!" he shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I can't take it anymore!"

Four Fingers and I tried to calm him. He shook us off and kept screaming. "Lemme outta here! I wanna go home!"

Nothing we said or did could quiet him. Even when Four Fingers clamped his hand across Dozer's mouth, Dozer bit him, hard. Four Fingers let go and Dozer rose to his feet, walking toward the Hunters.

"I give up!" he cried, hands in the air. "Don't shoot! I surrender!"

Four Fingers took off in a mad run. He tackled Dozer to the ground just as the Hunters began firing. Somehow, Four Fingers was able to drag Dozer back without either of them getting shot. But Dozer put up one last challenge. He lifted Four Fingers up and threw him to the ground, smashing his head against a slab of granite.

All of us began pelting the Hunters with every rock and dart and arrow we could lay our hands on. I saw that of all the Hunters, the Man in Orange had gone completely untouched. Even though he wore no protective gear, not one of us had managed to slip an arrow past the plating of his ATV.

But Cat was ready to take him on. He pulled back his bowstring until his thumb rested against his cheek, held the draw . . . and then released. The arrow zinged forward through a gunpowdery haze.

At the final moment, the Man in Orange ducked, and it seemed like Cat had missed entirely. Then a thin line of crimson rose to the surface of his cheek: pearls of blood from lip to earlobe. The arrow had grazed the uninjured side of his face. He lifted a hand to inspect the damage. When he pulled his fingers away, they were slick with blood.

His bared his teeth, and they were pink and blood-stained. Like the wolf that had dragged June Bug away.

We stumbled to our feet and made it to the very top of the ridge, just managing to avoid a hailstorm of bullets that pitted the ground. We dove behind boulders. Hope was one rock away. I caught her eye.

"You okay?" I mouthed.

She nodded. It looked like she wanted to say more, but there wasn't time.

The Hunters were closing fast, no more than fifty yards away, drawing closer.

"Now!" Cat shouted at the very top of his lungs.

Emerging from the earth itself-from shallow pits behind the Hunters-hidden Sisters rose up and unleashed a flurry of darts. Scylla and little Helen and a dozen others began catching the Hunters in the backs of their necks. The Hunters went tumbling off their four-wheelers, and those who weren't struck by arrows were pummeled by swinging rocks we'd festooned with spikes.

"Don't let up!" Cat roared. We pelted them with everything we had until it was a horizontal rain of missiles.

The Hunters were in disarray. The Man in Orange took in the situation with wild eyes and flared nostrils, blood dribbling down his chin. Then, with a snarl, he gestured to his troops. They turned their vehicles and began heading down the hill. A retreat!

He swung his eyes back at Cat and me a final time. And then he did something utterly unnerving. He smiled. It chilled me to the bone.

A spontaneous celebration erupted, and for the first time, Less Thans and Sisters hugged and congratulated each other. It was as though the act of fending off the Hunters-together-had torn down whatever walls existed between us, created some new and lasting bond. High fives and laughter overtook us. Hope and I found ourselves next to each other and shared a quick embrace. It was only for the briefest instant, but I was certain I could feel the beating of her heart against my chest. We pulled away, barely able to look at each other.

"Let's see who's wounded and get the hell out of here," Cat said. "These guys'll be back."

He was right. Celebrations were for later.

We rounded everyone up. Red had caught a bullet, but it only grazed his arm. Four Fingers suffered severe head trauma when Dozer threw him against the boulder. Dozer had no memory of his freak-out, or if he did, he didn't acknowledge it.

"What the hell, Dozer," Twitch said. "Why'd you go and hurt Four Fingers?"

"I didn't do nothing," Dozer responded, and left it at that.

But worst of all, we were missing one Sister.

We spread out and searched. Our joy at fending off the Hunters turned to grim reality when we found her, the girl named Iris, her body riddled with bullets. When I looked at Hope, I saw her eyes were filled with moisture. She turned away and gritted her teeth.

The grave was shallower than we would've liked, but time was not on our side. We cleared away pine needles and burrowed as deep as we could.

"We can always come back later and give her a proper funeral," Flush said as we stood awkwardly around the mound of earth. But we all knew that was a lie. Once we reached the new territory, we'd be done with this place. I hoped never to set foot in the Western Federation Territory ever again.

"Grab your arrows and let's clear out of here," Cat said.

"How about the guns?" Dozer asked. He reached for the assault rifle clutched in the stiff fingers of a dead Hunter.

"Leave 'em," Cat said. "They'll just slow us down."

"But that's our ticket outta here," Dozer said, his tone belligerent. There was no hint of the cowering LT who'd cried for help moments before. "That's how we'll win."

"We won just now because we used our heads," I said, shooting a glance at Hope. "Because the Sisters knew how to use their weapons-and because Frank taught us how to use ours."

Dozer's eyes darted from Cat to me and back again. I thought his head was going to explode. "You're all crazy. Let's at least take the four-wheelers then," he sputtered.