I’m still standing when Tarver returns. I hear his footsteps through the tall grass long before he reaches me, so when he announces with uncharacteristic cheer, “Burrows—we’re in luck,” I manage not to jump.

I glance over my shoulder to find him standing there smiling, his arms full of plants and long grasses. The sight’s distracting—but not so distracting as what I heard. I turn back toward the plains.

“Did you hear anything while you were out there?” I ask, squinting into the afternoon light and trying as hard as I can to keep my shivering to a minimum.

“Wind,” he replies, punctuated by a rustle as he drops his armful. “The grass, the occasional scurrying critter. There won’t be anything larger out here, there’s nothing to feed it.”

“I heard a man.”

The sound his monster of a gun makes when he takes it out of its holster is getting to be familiar. I sigh, shaking my head. “I don’t think he means us any harm. He didn’t sound angry.”

Tarver comes up next to me, peering in the same direction I’m facing. “You sure? There’s not much room for someone to hide out here.”

“Positive.” He can’t accuse me of dreaming this time. I’m wide-awake, every nerve on edge. “I thought it was you at first, but you were too far away. It sounded really close, like he was nearby.”

Tarver’s frowning now. I catch him shooting me a sideways glance, before taking a few steps forward to turn in a slow circle, scanning the area. “I guess a voice could be carried a ways on the wind. What did he say?”

I hesitate, clenching my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. “I don’t…know. I couldn’t quite tell. It was like listening to voices through a wall. You know they’re speaking a language you understand, and you know you could hear them if you could just…” I don’t know how to explain it.

He stops watching the plains, turning his attention fully on me. “Well, which was it? Was he distant or right next to you?”

“I don’t know!” The burst of frustration escapes before I can control it, and my voice is shaking with whatever’s seized my body. “He was right here, but muffled. Like—the sounds were clear, but there was no meaning in them.”

He’s staring at me, and I feel my face starting to burn.

“I’m realizing how this sounds,” I whisper.

“Not good,” he agrees. But then he surprises me, and turns around to holster his gun and cup his hands around his mouth to bellow across the plain. “Come on in if you’re out there. We’re armed, but we’ll play nicely if you will.”

He drops his hands, turning his head slightly to better listen for a reply. My own ears strain, skin prickling at each rustle and whistle of grass and wind.

Then, from only a few feet away, comes the voice, clearer than ever. I still can’t make out what he’s saying, but this time I can tell he’s excited.

“There!” I dart forward to stand at Tarver’s side. “There, it’s the same voice. I told you.”

He isn’t smiling. He’s not looking out at the plain, but rather down at me, his expression more troubled than annoyed.

“I heard nothing,” he says quietly.

The words are like a punch in the stomach, leaving me gasping. Even he wouldn’t be so cruel. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.” Carefully, Tarver reaches out and takes hold of my shoulder. “I’ve been working you too hard. You’re exhausted. Let’s just sit and rest, and you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

I jerk my shoulder away with such force that I wrench the muscle, although I scarcely notice the pain. My spine tingles uncomfortably. “I’m not hallucinating, Tarver!”

He smiles, though it doesn’t touch his eyes, which remain grave, fixed on mine. “It’s no big deal,” he says dismissively. “I’ve done it myself, once. Come, sit down for me, and I’ll see about finding you something to eat besides those ration bars.”

“I know what’s real!” I want to smack him, shake him, do whatever it takes to convince him that I know what I heard. My shivering slows, my dizziness ebbing. As a breeze skitters past and touches damp skin, I realize I’ve been sweating.

“Lilac,” he says, voice soft and weary. “Please. Rest.”

I wonder if he knows how easily he can win this way—how can I fight him when he’s so tired, so sad? The relief at having heard another human voice has shattered into a thick misery, so dense I can barely breathe. I sink back down onto my blanket, eyes burning. I refuse to cry, not while he can see me. But was it too much to ask to have been proven right, just once? Instead he thinks I’m going mad, that Lilac LaRoux’s so traumatized she can’t even tell dreams from reality. I wish Tarver were here alone.

And the worst part is that I know he does too.

“Sudden trauma can manifest in any number of ways.”

“That’s true. We receive extensive training.”

“Did you notice any of those manifestations in Miss LaRoux?”

“No. Well, only that she was off her food, but I think that was an objection to the ration bars, mostly. Not quite what she was used to.”

“Otherwise nothing?”

“That’s what I said. Are you having trouble understanding my answers?”

“We just want to be certain, Major. Exact.”