Footsteps echo outside.
The door rattles.
Fetchers come in.
They stand. Loom.
They think they’re bigger and stronger than us.
Not anymore.
Crow leaves her corner.
Her skin and eyes are brown.
Her hair and dress are black.
Her shadow on the wall is a thing of wing and claw and bite.
Crow’s hair sweeps across the ground to smash against the
Fetchers’ ankles.
First gets knocked flat.
Second staggers. Crow darts in and slashes.
The top half of Second’s mask falls off.
There’s nothing beneath.
Second screeches and dives for his missing eyes.
I pounce on First’s chest. Grip the edge of his mask.
He lurches up to his full height.
I hold on and swing, pulling with all my strength.
The mask comes free.
I fly across the room.
Hit the ground.
Roll.
Get to my feet with First’s false face in my hand.
The empty space where his head should be screams.
‘Give it back give it back give it back!’
I throw the mask against the wall.
It shatters.
First howls.
Heavy feet pound in the distance.
There’s no more time for Fetchers.
‘Crow! A Feed’s coming!’
We charge out the door.
The Feed thuds down the tunnel.
His mirror-eyes widen when he sees us.
He roars.
I turn to run away.
Crow grabs my arm. Spins me back around. ‘We stop the
Feed.’
She’s right. My mind knows it.
But my body wants to flee.
I haven’t got all my grey.
There’s still a piece buried inside.
A grey that makes me want to hide from the Feed.
Choose the opposite of grey.
I face the Feed.
Straighten my shoulders.
Lift my head.
Stare into his eyes.
Name my last grey. ‘You’re shame.’
The Feed flinches. He thinks I’m naming him.
I am naming him.
‘This grey’s yours,’ I say. ‘My colours are mine. I’m not carrying your shame for what you did. Only my pride. For surviving you.’
The last grey disappears.
Like it never existed.
It never should’ve.
Not inside me.
I’m not the one who should be running from him.
He should be running from me.
From us.
Crow sings:
‘No more for the Feed.
No more in need.
Colours shine bright.
Today catchers fight.
Dead Feed, dead Feed… dead!’
The Feed runs.
We chase.
We follow the thump, thump, thump of footsteps.
The tunnels go everywhere and nowhere.
The thump stops.
He’s run out of tunnel.
There’s only a wall ahead.
The Feed punches the ceiling.
Blood drips down his arm.
He squeals in pain. Pulls himself up through the hole.
We tear after him, leaping up into …
The world.
The taste of fresh air in my mouth.
The feel of soft dirt under my feet.
The glow of the moon and stars above.
I stagger. Throw out my hand. Catch myself against a tree.
Crow tips back her head. Stretches out her arms like she can hug the sky.
‘We are rainbow girls, Isobel-the-Catching! We will bathe in the clouds and sing in the sun and let the world paint our souls and our souls paint the world!’
‘We will.’ I point. There’s a light in the distance. ‘But not yet.’
We go. We find a cage.
Light shines out from gaps between white wooden bars.
Birds of all colours huddle at the top.
The Feed stands at the bottom.
There’s only one door.
It’s shut. Locked.
The Feed smiles.
The birds call out: ‘Free us! Free us! Free us!’
Crow’s hair rises to either side of her like wings.
Strands of black beat the air.
Wind gusts. The door rattles.
The Feed stops smiling.
The birds flutter in excitement.
Crow beats harder. The wind gets stronger.
The door rips from its hinges.
It spins into the night. Smashes into a tree.
Birds fly out in a rush, singing their thanks.
Tiny feathers float in the air.
We walk into the cage.
The Feed falls to his knees.
We circle him.
We’re a loop that begins with me and ends with Crow.
Or begins with Crow and ends with me.
He cowers.
He changes.
His tall frame gets shorter.
His arms and legs shrink.
His eyes aren’t mirrors.
He’s lost his glasses in the chase.
The Feed is a man.
The man’s head turns from side to side.
Tracking our movements.
His skin is sweaty. His lips tremble.
He’s terrified. But it doesn’t make me happy.
It doesn’t make me anything.
Crow and I don’t have to do this for ourselves.
Not anymore.
We have to do it because the Feed must be stopped.
Only we can stop him.
Only we will.
I put my face close to his. I can see into his brain.
‘You’d like to think you’re important to us. But you’re not. When this is done, all you’ll be to us is a bad man we once knew.’
I step back.
‘We won’t think of you again.’
Crow dances.
The world explodes.