Buck up, he told himself. When this is all over, then you can sit down and have a good cry about it.
“Okay, listen up!” he yelled. Rutger, Mothball, and her parents were standing right in front of him in the very first row. He exchanged glances with his two fellow Realitants, relieved to see there’d be no teasing. Time for business.
When the Fifths had quieted and all the attention turned to Sato, he continued. “We don’t know what to expect, what kind of defenses they have, who’s watching us—anything. Jane could send a whole pack of fangen or who-knows-what at us any second now, so we need to get moving. I want us to split into three groups: left, right, middle.” He pointed as he spoke. “Middle group stays here, close to the fence. Rutger, you and I will stay with them.”
The short man nodded, his face scrunched up as if considering whether he’d gotten a good assignment or a bad one.
Sato pointed to the left. “Left group, you guys go around the perimeter that way. Right group, go that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction. “I want you to run as quickly as possible while still being able to keep a good lookout. With any luck, you’ll make your way around that wall and meet up on the other side. Then come back here. We’ll decide what to do based on what you learn.”
As the Fifths separated into smaller groups, Sato started doubting his first major decision. What if they were attacked? What if, by splitting up, they’d weakened themselves too much? What if the groups never hooked back up again? What if . . . what if . . . what if?
He shook it off. He couldn’t do anything until he knew what they were dealing with, and it seemed too dangerous to send individual spies out to scout the area. He was sticking with his decision, and that was that. He had nothing but his instinct.
“Okay, then! Go, already!” He shooed them like dogs, and immediately made a mental note that he probably shouldn’t do that ever again.
But they didn’t seem to mind. Mothball, her parents, and the rest of their group sprinted toward the right, heading for the fence. Once they were right next to it, they took off running alongside it. The left group did the same thing but in the opposite direction. Those ordered to stay put gathered tighter around Sato.
Rutger stood right next to him and reached up to poke him on the upper arm. “I’m proud of you, Sato. Have to admit, I didn’t wake up this morning thinking I’d see General Sato by the end of the day, but here we are. Don’t worry—worst thing that can happen is we all die.”
Sato grumbled, not in the mood.
Rutger kept talking as if they were sitting down for a nice picnic. “I’m really happy about how it worked out. You need someone cranky to lead like this, and . . .”
Sato tuned him out, searching for signs of guards or visitors. He couldn’t see very well over the tall Fifths, so he stepped out of the crowd, scanning the area with his eyes. The day was fully bright now, not a cloud in the sky.
A quick movement in the woods caught the corner of his eye, like someone had poked their head out to look around, then pulled back again, hiding. But when Sato focused his attention on the spot, he saw nothing but trees.
Sato pointed at three Fifths, one by one. “You, you, and you,” he said, making another note to learn these peoples’ names. “Come with me.”
Rutger finally realized he wasn’t being listened to. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Just be quiet,” Sato replied. “Let’s go.”
He moved away from the rest of them with the three Fifths he’d chosen right on his heels. Keeping his eyes glued to the spot where he’d seen the movement, Sato ran for the forest. He’d made it about halfway to the tree when a figure darted out from behind it—an oddly shaped, wispy thing. It seemed to fly through the air like a ghost, quickly disappearing deeper into the dark woods.
Then other creatures did the same, darting out from behind at least a dozen other trees that lined the boundary between the field and the forest. They were all like living, flying shadows, gone before Sato got a better look.
He stopped and held up a hand. “Those had to be some kind of spies or guards. Now Jane or whoever’s in charge of this place definitely knows we’re here. I hope I didn’t—”
A commotion from behind cut him off. He turned to see Rutger excitedly pointing toward the far bend of the wooden fence to the right, where the group of Fifths that had gone in that direction was already coming back, marching along through the slippery mud.
“Something’s wrong,” Sato half-whispered. “They shouldn’t be back yet.”