I cry until the lightning dies.

I scream until the thunder fades.

I howl into the dirt.

Give her back!

But the earth stays silent.

Soon I’m silent too.

I fall to the ground. My eyes close.

I don’t want to wake …

But I do.

Everything is strange.

Two suns hang in the air.

There’s no river. Only a stream.

The trees have no leaves. They crowd together in a forest of sticks.

All the colours are washed away.

The sky is grey not blue.

The trees are dull not white.

Even the suns are pale.

Where Mum’s body was is an empty space.

She’s gone.

Impossible.

Her body was right there.

I stand. Pat the earth as if it has eaten her.

Nothing.

Maybe her body hasn’t gone anywhere. Maybe I have.

Somewhere different. Somewhere else.

My head throbs. I put my hand on it.

There’s something grainy matted in my hair.

Blood.

I’m hurt. Alone.

In some other-place.

I should be scared.

But I’m not.

Mum’s gone. Nothing else matters.

Memories stab my brain.

Us on that hill. The storm. The drive. The water.

She said something to me.

Just one word.

Right before she unclipped my seatbelt.

I couldn’t hear it then.

I can now.

Live.

I fall back to the ground.

My heart is hollow.

Empty.

My body is heavy.

Weak.

Maybe I’ll fade away …

Like the colours of this place.

Yet I don’t.

Live.

My throat tightens.

Tears run.

The last thing she did was save me.

She asked for one thing.

Live.

I don’t want to.

But I’ve got to.

I stand. The world spins.

I stab a leg out. Catch my balance.

Pain spikes through my head.

I stagger to the stream. Gulp down water.

There are fish darting about.

Food.

I walk back to the trees.

Break off a branch.

File the end against a rock.

Spear.

I wade into the water.

The fish flee, only to come back as the ripples die.

I hurl my spear.

It stabs the sandy bed.

Misses the fish.

I reach for it.

Lift. Aim. Throw.

Miss.

My stomach growls.

So does something else.

There are things in the distance.

Things that shimmer in the air like they’re made of water.

They’ve each got four legs.

One tail.

Big jaws that hang open to show gleaming teeth.

Muscles that ripple as they paw the ground.

I grip my spear.

But there are too many to fight.

One of them yips.

All of them charge.

I run into the stick forest.

The shimmer-beasts chase after me.

They howl, surrounding me with wails.

Terror sends strength flowing through my legs.

Something flashes beside me.

I lash out. A beast yelps.

I keep running.

The howls fade.

Then the trees stop.

No more forest. Just a rocky cliff wall.

I look left. Right. The wall goes on forever.

They’ve herded me here.

Live.

I drop the spear and climb.

The world shrinks to edges and angles.

Reach up. Grab the rock. Pull.

Find a hole – there!

Dig in your foot. Stretch…

Howls sound beneath me.

I glance over my shoulder.

The beasts pace below.

One bites down on my spear.

The others fight over the remains.

Snap. Snarl. Claw. Rip.

They’ll eat me the same way.

I keep going.

My muscles hurt.

My fingers tremble.

I’m almost there.

I can see the top of the cliff!

But there’s no way to reach it.

I’ve hit smooth, flat rock.

I search for a hold. Find none.

There’s a ledge to my right. I could rest there. Work out what to do.

I stretch my body as far as it can go.

Not far enough.

Can’t go down. Can’t go up.

That ledge is my only chance.

It’s out of reach. Unless I jump.

I take a breath.

Focus on the ledge.

Jump.

For a second, I’m a bird.

A cloud.

A leaf in the breeze.

Then my right hand claws at the rock.

My fingers dig into a hollow.

My body swings outwards.

My hand stretches … Snap.

I scream but don’t let go.

I slam my other hand into the hole too.

Pain tears down my arm.

It doesn’t want to hold on.

I suck in air. One breath. Two.

Up!

I shoot over the ledge.

My chest lands on top. My legs kick open air.

I swing them onto rock.

My body shakes. My hand hurts.

But I’m safe. For now.

Almost falling taught me something.

The voice that told me to live …

This time it wasn’t just Mum’s.

It was mine too.

I close my eyes.

The wind blows across my bruised body.

For a moment everything stills.

Pauses.

Rests.

Then sounds echo in the rush of air.

Voices.

Somebody’s talking, somewhere above.

My eyes blink open.

‘Hello?’ I call.

No answer.

I stand, try again. ‘Hello? Anyone there?’

‘It speaks,’ a voice hisses.

‘All girls speak,’ another answers.

‘Yes. Speak. Scream. Cry.’

Two figures appear on the cliff-top above.

Then they jump off.

I wait for them to fall past me.

Instead they … flap? … onto the ledge.

They’ve got wings. Leathery. Grey.

Their robes are grey too.

Long robes, which hide their heads and bodies.

Robes that blend with everything else and make their edges hard to see.

Their faces are covered by white masks with human features.

But they can’t be human.

Calling out was a bad idea.

They don’t feel right.

Not because they’re strange-looking.

It’s something else.

A wrongness that makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

I want my spear.

‘What are you?’ I demand.

They answer together, ‘Fetchers.’

One points to himself. ‘I am he-who-is-First.’

He points to the other. ‘This is he-who-is-Second.’

First is larger. First is first. The boss.

Boss people want everyone to know they’re in charge.

‘She has colours,’ Second says.

‘Bright,’ First agrees. ‘Beautiful. Like a rainbow.’

Second hops towards me. ‘Are you alone, little rainbow?’

Fear stirs my stomach.

‘No,’ I lie. ‘I’m here with my mum.’

Who’s dead.

‘My dad.’

Who took off with another woman years ago.

‘Lots of people.’

First goes quiet. Tilts his head. Listens.

Laughs. ‘Liar. No parents, no nothing. You’re a lost little rainbow.’

I back up until I hit the cliff.

‘Don’t worry,’ Second says. ‘We make lost things found.

We’ll make you found too.’

‘We’ll fetch you,’ First agrees.

‘Stay back!’ I snap.

But they’re not afraid.

I’m small and they’re big.

They have wings that fly.

Claws that fetch.

I have only me.

My eyes never leave the Fetchers.

But my hands search the wall.

Looking for a rock. A weapon. Anything!

I find nothing.

They come closer.

I hear a sniff behind the mask. ‘She’s damaged.’

Second doesn’t sound happy.

Maybe damaged is bad?

Bad for them is good for me.

‘I’m hurt,’ I say. ‘Broke my hand. Smashed my head. I’m all messed up.’

‘She can be fixed,’ First says.

‘Only to be broken?’ Second asks.

First shrugs. ‘Not our job. Our job is to fetch. To mend. To give to him.’

Second nods.

First lunges.

I swing my fist. Kick my feet. Yell.

It’s useless.

The not-human thing is larger than me.

Faster than me.

Stronger than me.

I’m fetched.