Excerpt: The Bee and Jupiter

The night was cold. All of the nights were cold, even in Harlow, but this was different. From the woods you could truly appreciate the bitterness of the chill in the air, the speed of the wind, the constant dampness of the city ground. Cold was a whole different concept on the inside of a building.

Yellow shivered, this time not from cold but fear, as she heard the scampering of some forest rodent by her feet. She scrambled away, curling her legs to her chest and attempting to roll herself, still tucked not-so-comfortably in her thin little sleeping bag, to Henry. She trusted him, now. She would have to trust him, now, even if she would rather not. She would have to trust a lot of people she had no business knowing. He grumbled, rolling over but not quite waking up. He murmured in his sleep; she had noticed it the night before. It was always something about the ancients, the Gods of Greece and Rome whose names she had only the vaguest recollection of from her history classes. Ah, the history classes, the history classes were one of the first steps in her training. All wasted time, now, except in helping her decipher the mumblings of her companion. She sighed and looked up at the sky. “No! Persephone…the city…”

They were far enough from the city that it was as dark as pitch. She couldn’t see a thing in the sky, and it was disconcerting. She was uncomfortable, miraculously so, in the darkness, the unfamiliarity sending chills down her spine. Until two days ago, Yellow had never entered the forest. Until two days ago, Yellow had never stepped outside the borders of Harlow into the unprotected world. Until two days ago, Yellow had never felt the burning curiosity that would not leave her now.
Until two days ago, Yellow had never disobeyed.