New World Rising by Jennifer Wilson Page B

been, younger than any child alone should be in Tartarus. Once abandoned by their Tribes, most kids lived only days, rarely seeing five.
    “Don’t you have a family?”
    At this her face turned down and her eyes began to fill with tears again. She shook her head. A part of me wanted to hug her, to comfort her, but I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t the nurturing type. I could barely stand myself, much less other people. But something in this little girl softened me.
    “What’s your name?”
    She swallowed thickly and I noticed for the first time the scar across her throat. It was an old one, healed with time like the one on the back of my head. It ran from the base of her left ear to her collarbone.
    “You can’t speak can you?”
    She shook her head again. The child was not stubborn, as Arstid had falsely accused. She was a mute. I looked her over carefully. Her nails were chewed down to bloody stumps and her body was small. Too small, like mine was, like a child that knew hunger all too well. She must have been an abandoned orphan, undoubtedly pushed out by a family of Scavengers. It was amazing she had made it this long. The girl began to fidget under my gaze.
    “It’s okay, we can figure out your name later.” She smiled a little at this. “I’m Phoenix.”
    Her smile widened.
    We were interrupted by the beep of the door. The same young man with the food tray came in.
    “I see you found your friend.” To my surprise he was talking to the child. She grinned up at him with admiration. I looked at him more carefully now. Could this child see something in him I could not? Maybe his actions had been purely out of kindness and not a threat as I had first thought.
    He bent and handed her a piece of bread. She grabbed it and plopped onto my cot enjoying the treat. He offered me the other. I gazed at his hand for a second before taking it.
    “Thank you,” I murmured as he smiled warmly at me.
    Now that I wasn’t looking for signs of deception in his every movement, I realized he was actually good looking. His sandy hair fell into disarray around his face. The lines of his features were severe, accented by a long nose and squared jaw, but his face was surprisingly gentle. When he smiled, so did his hazel eyes.
    I turned away, not wanting to notice anything more about him.
    “How did you get stuck with food duty?” I asked, remembering Maddox’s harsh comment about having to feed us.
    He shrugged, “I volunteered.”
    That was not the response I had been expecting.
    “It doesn’t bother you to be so close to prisoners unarmed?” I raised an eyebrow at him, noticing his conspicuous lack of weaponry. Everyone here seemed to be armed, even the stern-faced Arstid had a knife carefully concealed on her thigh. Only someone with trained eyes would have noticed it.
    “I choose not to carry a weapon most of the time, besides I don’t believe all of our guests wish me harm.” His eyes softened a little as he looked at me.
    I stared at him. The child raised her hands and he handed her a bowl of soup.
    “Even the most gentle people have a dark side you know.” I was trying to warn him.
    “I know,” he said handing me the other bowl of soup. “It's how you control that darkness that defines you.”
    Without another word he left, leaving my mind reeling.
    That night I actually laid down in my bed for the first time since I had arrived. Arden had reappeared just before lights out and seemed unsurprised by our new addition. He just raised his eyebrows then shook his head. As the lights went out, a small hand grabbed mine from beneath the cot. I had offered the child my bed, but she just grabbed a blanket and curled up beneath it. I smiled at her natural instinct of preservation. She was sheltered below me and if someone came in the night they would have to go through me to get her. It was something I would do.
    As my hand hung over the side of the cot, she sought it out, her tiny fingers wrapping around mine. I couldn’t