Ally liked to bury things.

Crusty earth gave way under her cracked fingertips as mounds of grainy dirt lodged underneath her nails. The soft scratching sound settled her into a steady rhythm, relaxing her as much as she ever relaxed. Digging had been her favorite thing to do as long as she could remember. Even before. She could remember clutching little rocks in her small fist, shaking them triumphantly in the air as her mother pretended to scold her for all the holes in their backyard.

Now, though, it was a way to spend time, a way to combat against the raging boredom of her life. She had already buried over six sticks. She had to do at least two more to reach her goal for the day. Not that it really mattered—nothing mattered in this wasteland.

The muggy air clung thick in her throat, but the tightness in her chest didn’t bother her. She’d been breathing the decaying air her whole life and had gotten used to the humid stench. Her mother used to worry it would ruin her lungs; her father used to grunt back that they had to stay.

What’s done is done, he would growl, effectively shutting down the conversation.

On that point, Ally could admit, he was right. The damage he’d done to Ally’s life was irreversible.

Ignoring the taste of rot that came with each breath, she gave a huff, blowing a piece of stringy blonde hair out of her face. Her kneecaps whined against the hard earth; her shoulders ached with the strain of leaning over for so long. But she had a goal to accomplish. So she disregarded the pain in her bones, the tightness in her chest, the blanket of dread that seemed to follow her everywhere.

And kept digging.

The sun rose as she worked, the light filtering through the smog. Tiny beads of sweat began to form on the back of her neck, dripping down the collar of her cloak. In the distance, someone screamed, then a stray dog howled. Ally hardly noticed. She dug until the hole was as deep as the length of her arm, then she reached into her pocket and pulled out the next stick. She tossed it into the hole without ceremony. A grunt escaped her as she reached across the opening to slide the excavated dirt back in, effectively burying the stick.

The broken branch hadn’t been anything special—just a piece of dry wood she’d found the day before, part of yesterday’s collection quest. Small. Insignificant. And now buried, never to be seen again, never to be acknowledged or missed.

Just like people. Just like her mother. Just like Ally.

Ally got to her feet and brushed her hands on her dirty pants, admiring her work. A scream sounded again, long and drawn out, until it abruptly cut off.

Just another day in the Molds.

For a moment, she watched the horizon through the hazy air, looking across the vast empty land and past the cluster of shacks beyond. For a moment, she let herself wonder what life was like outside this place. For a moment, she considered walking on and on until she found somewhere better. Anywhere.

But then that moment passed, and she remembered she could never leave. The Molds had marked her, the stench permanently etched into her skin in a way that she could never hope to wash off. There was nowhere else for a rat of the Molds. Definitely not for the child of Monty the Merciless and a dead mother nobody talked about. Her father had damned her to this years ago, ensuring Ally would always be a worthless stick and someday would be buried too. And that would be the end of it.

What’s done is done.

Lip curling in disgust, she stared at the sun rising over the land she hated so much. It burned her eyes, but she held her gaze, challenging the sun to give her something more than the fate of a stick.

I’d make you proud, she thought. I’d make everyone proud, if only you’d just let me.

Seconds passed and her eyes stung worse and worse. Finally, she growled and blinked away, pressing her palms into her eyes.

“Fine,” she muttered as colored spots danced along her vision. “You win.” The words burned her grainy, dirt coated mouth. “But someday,” she promised, “someday I will stare you down and I will win.” Win what, she didn’t know. Just something.

Brush rustled next to her. She jumped and turned, a shape moving out of the corner of her eye. Or was it still a sunspot? She wasn’t sure, but she did know one thing.

Out in the Molds, everything counted as a threat.

Muscles rigid, Ally clenched her teeth and jumped back, expecting the worst: a rabid stray dog, a ruthless neighbor, her drunken father. Instead, she found herself staring at a rabbit. A small, white rabbit, streaked with lines of dirt.

The creature stared at her, as if just as surprised as she was to find it wasn’t alone out here.

Once her surprise faded, Ally slowly reached inside her cloak pocket and pawed through her stowed rock collection. Her fist closed around the sharpest one, and she stared at the rabbit, imagining the best way to kill it.

She and Jesper would eat tonight. Actually eat, not just slurp up the mushed grains her brother mashed with water every day or get sick off of rancid meat from an old dog carcass they’d once found. They’d learned long ago that trying to trade for actual food themselves in the Molds could only be a death sentence—Jesper had nearly lost his hand the last time they tried— and Monty was only interested in stocking their cupboards with ale.

But this…this rabbit was a gift from the sky. She just had to kill it and somehow skin it. Her brother wouldn’t go near the animal while it was bloody, but she could figure out how to skin it herself. Couldn’t be much harder than the rotting dog. The rabbit was smaller, sure, but it would be fresh and untouched by decay. A rare miracle.

At the thought of something warm—of meat—Ally’s mouth started watering and her stomach grumbled painfully. She could practically smell it now, feel the first bite of meat sliding down her scratchy throat and spreading warmth throughout her bony limbs. She imagined her brother’s look of surprised pride at what she was able to do, all on her own.

It was an effort to keep from licking her lips as she took a hesitant step forward. The rabbit cocked its head, black eyes unblinking.

And took off.

Shouting a curse, Ally lurched after it, her worn boots skidding along the uneven ground. The rabbit leapt quick and fast, effortlessly dodging dips and rocks that made Ally stumble. She hissed through her teeth as the distance between her and the rabbit grew larger and larger, her hope of dinner—of a victory—getting farther away with each breath.

With one last push, the rabbit hopped over a rock and disappeared.

Ally cursed again when she skidded to a stop and saw the hole. Collapsing to her knees, she stuck her face in the opening, hoping she would come nose to nose with the vermin. But a small tunnel yawned open before her, showing nothing but dirt and darkness.

Jumping to her feet, she kicked at the hole and screamed at the sky, hurtling her rock as hard as she could. It bounced uselessly against the ground, and that made her scream in frustration again.

Stupid rabbit.

Stupid rabbit.

Her fit of rage passed eventually. Breathing heavily, she glanced around the wasteland before trudging back to her house. She never went back unless she absolutely had to, but she knew Jes would be looking for her today. And she’d show up empty handed, as always.

“Stupid rabbit,” she growled under her breath as she walked. She should’ve smashed its skull the moment she saw it. She should’ve waited to chase it with the hope it would come back. She should’ve just kept digging. Now she had two extra sticks to bury tomorrow.

Ally’s footsteps slowed until she stopped. Perking up, she turned around to glance behind her. A whisper of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Without another thought, she stomped back over to the hole and filled it with dirt.

“There,” she said once she finished, brushing her hands on her dusty pants. “Now you’re just like the rest of us.”

And with that, she started the long walk back home.