63.

“It is now, and in this world, that we must live.” The little inscription fell out of the crescent-shaped cookie when she broke it in half. Her squad mates scoffed at it, trampled the box, thumped her head, and ordered her to pick up the pace; too soon would the raiders return to camp, too soon would the dust storms descend. She clipped the fortune under her helmet, her mind hungry for weeks — what other voices lay hidden, trapped, inside their stolen rations? 

grh

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