Zett is an idiot.

  I knew that already. But seeing him sprint barefoot through the fields, his soles slapping against the dirt like he’s never heard of common sense, really cements the fact.

  "Zett!" I yell after him, but the wind swallows my voice.

  He doesn’t stop.

  I groan, rubbing my face.

  Fine. Whatever. Run yourself into the ground. Not my problem.

  …Except I’m already following him.

  At first, it’s just a few steps, muttering under my breath about how much work I already have to do today. But before I know it, I’ve walked farther than I realized. The orphanage is so far it looks like a button from where I am.

  What's more I am bare foot, the grass cold between my toes.

  I stop, exhaling. "Damn it."

  I hear a thunk.

  I look towards the river flowing nearby.

  Is it Zett?

  I walk slowly.

  Something dark, slumped in the dirt ahead. My stomach tenses. That's not Zett. It’s too big. Way too big.

  I move closer. The shape becomes clearer, massive and unmoving. My breath wavers as my View displays the kind.

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  A Navorian.

  He’s huge—three, maybe four times my size. His body is twisted awkwardly, limbs half-folded beneath him, like some deep-sea predator stranded on shore, which, I guess, is exactly what he is. Armor scorched, scales dark as obsidian.

  I don't move, breathing slow.

  What is a Navorian doing here?

  I swallow. My fingers twitch. Then a really, really dumb thought pops in my head.

  I should poke him with a stick.

  Not my smartest. But I find a branch and prod a limb.

  Nothing...

  I prod harder.

  Still nothing.

  I frown. It must be dead. It's breathing gear—

  My vision flickers as my View scans it. A sharp pulse of information floods my brain.

  Status: Critical.

  Time until death: Imminent.

  My grip tightens on the stick.

  He’s dying.

  Good, a small voice in my head says. They’re the enemy. Let them die like the vermin they are.

  But another voice—louder—says, he’s just a person.

  And I help people.

  This is going to be the dumbest thing I have done in my life.

  I turn on my heel and sprint back to the orphanage.

  By the time I reach the porch, my legs ache, my feet caked in mud. Klev barely looks up from his View, lazily scrolling through whatever’s caught his interest today.

  He glances at me. "You’re supposed to be dragging Zett from the mud, not yourself."

  "Shut up," I mutter, heading for my workbench.

  "Oi, come on—what’s with you?" He leans back, staring vaguely. "You look like you’ve seen a—"

  I slam my toolbox shut. "Don’t finish that sentence."

  His eyes narrow, but he shrugs, going back to his reading.

  I don’t waste another second.

  The run back is worse. The sun presses heavy against my back, and every step feels slower, like the world is fighting me.

  By the time I reach the Navorian, my breath is short, my hands already moving. The damage isn’t beyond repair. I work fast, sealing cracks, reinforcing the edges. My fingers shake as I finish, placing the gear back round his gills.

  Then, it clicks.

  I just saved a Navorian.

  And if he wakes up?

  Yeah. I don’t wanna be here when that happens.

  I run.

  By the time I reach the orphanage, the sun is setting. Klev is digging through the kitchen, looking for food. He notices me, eyebrows raised.

  "You're early.” he mocks. “Had a brand adventure?”

  I wipe my feet, exhaling. “You have no idea.”

  Klev just snorts, turning back to his food. The normalcy of it feels wrong—like I haven’t just broken some unspoken rule. Like I haven’t just changed something I can’t take back.

  Who cares. I have too much work to be bothered with that.

  And wasn't today supposed to be easy?