Page 64 of Rejected Moons (Rejected Moons 3)

Chapter Forty-two: MILO

Emlynshakesmeawake.“Come on,” she says. “We’re about to get moving.”

“Where are we going?” I sit up blearily. Nate and I were up way too late talking last night. We should have been more sensible about leaving one person to stand watch while the other slept. Now we’re both going to be tired all day long.

Emlyn shrugs. “Don’t know,” she says. “All I know is that we can’t stay in one place for too long. My pack is still hunting for me.”

“And they’ll kill you if they catch you?”

“They definitely will.”

I nod and get to my feet. “Where’s Nate?”

“He went down to the river to get some water,” she says.

“Do you think he would care if I borrow a heavier shirt?” I ask, plucking at the thin t-shirt he gave me last night. “It’s a little chilly this morning.”

“Oh, no, he won’t care,” she assures me. “All his stuff is in that backpack.”

I go over to the backpack and start to rummage through it. I find a pullover hoodie pretty quickly, but as I’m pulling it out of the bag, a crumpled up piece of paper falls on the ground.

I pick it up, thinking I’ll just put it back in the bag, but the image drawn on it catches my eye, and before I can stop myself, I’m unfolding it and examining the drawing.

It’s Emlyn.

My breath catches in my throat.

My first thought is that Nate is an amazing artist. This is a wonderful likeness. But—no. Something’s wrong.

And now my eyes go to the words written underneath the picture, and I’m skimming what the flyer has to say, and I’m horrified.

Bounty.

That’s the word that jumps out at me.

No. I can’t believe this. I don’t want to believe this.

“Milo?” Emlyn says. “Is everything all right?”

She’s behind me. She’s looking over my shoulder. “What is that?”

Wordlessly, I hand it up to her.

“Where did you get this?” she breathes.

“It was in his bag,” I say.

“This is a misunderstanding.” She sinks to her knees beside me. “It has to be.”

“Maybe.”

She looks at me. “You don’t think so.”

“Why would he have this?” I ask. “What good reason could there be for him to have this?”

“Maybe…” But she trails off, and I know she’s realizing the same thing I am.

There is no good reason.

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