Bee clutched onto Em beneath her blankets, sitting amongst her sisters in the back of the wagon. The freaks at the lash groaned, bound tightly in their rigging, themselves unable to escape. Ay had entered some time ago and told her not to leave the wagon. Bee, still reeling from her arrival at the Oasis, didn’t object. She wasn’t even sure she had the energy to move. The fear still gripped her — fear, worry, pain. She felt sick with it.

So there they dwelled, in the shade of a large stone monument, a fallen structure that almost made sense to Bee’s disorientated gaze but was made from dead stone. Had it been carved from the earth, Bee wondered. Why wouldn’t someone just grow their buildings? Why would they make this obelisk? It must have been difficult.

Distant speech drifted on the hot wind. Bee could not quite hear, but sometimes she could guess the words. Were they arguing in there? It sounded like it.

A shadow fell over Bee, and she jolted alert. A dark silhouette above had swooped close, circled, and then moved on. Bee watched it swing out into the distance. A spray of glass sand, kicked up by the wind, hit her in the face, stinging her eyes and mouth. Spitting and whining, Bee hid back beneath the blanket.

Em licked at her wound, where Bee’s forearm had been severed, and the flesh worked back together. Then Em bit hungrily. Gasping, Bee pulled her sister away, repositioned Em on her lap, and held her there with a weak grip.

“Stop that...”

Em writhed and hissed.

Bee stared out of the wagon from under the blanket. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed red. Her face was sore with dried tears. Everything hurt. All the while, Em decided to chew on the blanket instead, but Bee didn’t have the energy to stop her from doing it.

“Little one, you seem so tired.”

Bee turned her head. From the ruins stepped a tall, slender figure. Dressed from head to toe in sunbleached robes, she spoke with a soft and gentle voice, a plate of gold held between two gloved hands.

“There is no need to be afraid. Here,” the stranger said, offering the plate.

Bee’s eyes widened, seeing slices of meat on the plate, and she reached out to grab some. Turning away after grabbing a handful, Bee desperately ate, eyes closed, face slack. The fear shortly subsided as she ate, feeling her strength returning. One of her little siblings sniffed at her shoulder, nuzzling her skin. Em cried out insistently.

Then Bee stirred from her hunger, took more, and began to feed her sisters. Each began to chirp, worming back to life as the food was offered, ending their starvation.

The woman smiled, mandibles turning and compound eyes bulging out. A reassuring pheromone spray accompanied the words, “Such a bond. You must know, empathy is rare in one so young.”

“Who are you?”

“I am one of the temple’s servants. Your name is Bee. Is that right?”

“Um... Yes.”

“May I sit with you, Bee?”

“I guess— I mean, that’s fine.”

The thralls in the rigging groaned as the creature stepped onto the wagon with eight graceful legs. The stranger then sat down on the carriage bed next to Bee’s seat, taking a moment to straighten her robes and clasp her hands together on her lap that faced the child. Once settled, her attention turned between the various offspring before speaking to Bee again.

“My friends are going to bring you more food and water, very soon. I wanted to ask you some questions, if you do not mind answering them for me.”

“No?” Bee said, unsure, tucking her knees to her plated chest and trying to calm her anxiety, looking up to the servant with wide eyes.

“Thank you, Bee. Our friend, Ay, has explained to me that you are the Vat-Mother of Sestchek’s daughter. Is that correct?”

“He’s not my friend.”

The servant dipped her head forward in silent acknowledgement.

“Even so,” the stranger said.

“Yes. I mean, I am.”

The temple servant put a hand on Bee’s shoulder. The child shrank under the touch but did not pull away.

“I can see you are hurt. May I see?”

Bee lifted her arm to show the amputation at her elbow. The older creature made a sympathetic sound, spraying sad scents as she leaned in to see.

“That looks incredibly painful. You are very brave, Bee.”

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to get to know you, Bee, before you left. Ay has told us all about you.”

The temple servant’s reassuring tones patronised and infuriated Bee. She held her tongue, trying to stop herself from making a comment. Somehow, she ended up scowling at the temple servant without even really realising she was doing it. Realising that only upset the child further, the servant removed her hand from the child’s shoulder.

Sensing her discomfort, the creature was content to wait in gentle silence. As time passed, Bee desperately wanted to believe that someone could show her some genuine kindness. However, a creeping sense of doubt remained, and she hated herself for that newfound pessimism.

The far-off speech, carried on the wind, was full of twisted, angry words. It joined the low thrumming of wind through stone and the hiss of sand catching the ruins. A reptilian creature that had kept out of sight made a terrible, guttural roar that rolled over the rocks and bounced off the sands in a terrible echo.

“How old are you, Bee?”

Bee frowned and looked down at Em’s toothy, worming face.

“I don’t know. I remember my first days,” Bee explained. “We were all born together, mostly. I think it’s nearly twenty days ago, maybe.”

“You have a pretty accent. Where does it come from?”

That was a meaningless question, Bee thought, mind clouded with suspicion. Eventually, however, she decided to sweeten her tone rather than bite back with it.

“I just speak like my mother.”

“And your face? It really is quite beautiful and I haven’t seen anyone with anything quite like it.”

“I don’t know. That’s just how I look.”

“Well, you are very lucky, Bee. I hope that you know that. You remind me of my daughter.”

Bee compressed her lips into a tight line as she looked ahead, over the thralls and their rigging, past the temple’s ruins and the glass desert beyond. Then, after a moment, she remembered herself and gave the creature a shallow smile.

“Does she look like me?” Bee asked.

“No. However, she has become very well-behaved, like you.”

“Do you have any more food?” Bee suddenly asked, looking at the servant’s empty gold plate.

“That is one of the things I wanted to talk to you about, Bee. You are a very important young child and I wanted to speak to you about your source.”

“My source?”

“Yes.” The servant reached out and put her soft, gloved hand on Bee’s chest. The child seized with the suddenness of the touch but let it happen, sitting there with her heart beating in her throat.

“Your source,” the servant continued. “It is inside of all of us. A water engine, as well as tiny machinery.”

“A water engine?”

“That’s right. It burns water to power us.”

Bee baulked, watching the servant, unmoving until she elaborated.

“Food, amongst other things, is unnecessary. It is wanton greed in our minds to keep carbon biomass to yourself. By indulging, you sin, and the more you sin the more befouled creatures you create. You shed them like the misdeeds of your past, and they haunt the world long after you are gone. Instead, you should patiently wait for the world around us to take the mass back and restore itself splendid and beautiful.”

“How can that possibly be true?” Bee asked quietly.

“Oh, Bee. I used to be a sinner as well. But you are a very important child. I cannot stress that enough, and I want you to understand that your urges are immoral. They will lead you down a path of greed and destruction. I do not want you to end up like your mother.”

Em chirped and struggled on Bee’s lap beneath the servant’s arm, and it was only then that the stranger retracted it and looked down on them both.

“I would like you to tell Ay that you want to stay here with us. Learn our ways. We can teach you so much about you and your destiny that I do not think you have ever had the chance to learn.”

“Do you really know about me?”

“Yes. There has long been a struggle to control the genetic discord amongst the self-declared God and Goddesses of the cities, their holy wars, their so-called crucible. I know all about it. If you stay, I can tell you everything.”

Bee stared up at the servant, expression vivid as she frantically searched the creature’s faceted eyes for sincerity. Words didn’t come to her immediately. Instead, she was interrupted by a clacking and a hiss, drawing her attention back towards the temple ruins, where Ay glided out with his enormous, tailed body, flanked by two gaunt freaks that struggled on spindly legs. They all carried heavy bags, but only Ay hefted them easily between two hands, his third carrying his lance.

His beak opened as he saw the scene. Wet eyes met Bee’s, giving her a slight nod.

“Not bothering you?” He rumbled, asking the child but looking at the servant sitting next to her with venomous intent.

“We were just speaking about Bee and her mother,” the creature answered with a hollow graciousness. Bee swallowed a lump in her throat as the servant continued, “Bee actually has something she would like to tell you.”

“Yes,” Bee said, hugging Em tightly. She glanced up at the creature beside her before speaking to Ay with hesitation and quiet dismay. “I’m really... Really looking forward to getting to the Crawling City.”

The servant’s eyes snapped down to the child, posture growing tense and hostile.

Yet Ay laughed watching this, shoulders rocking as he simply said, “You and me both.”