I began to open my eyes reluctantly before changing my mind and tightening them shut again. Normally, I’d leap from my bed the moment consciousness became mine, but last night, unlike most nights, my dream had been something pleasant. When this happened, I liked to lie still and hope to fall back into it again, picking up where I left off. Not an exciting, action-packed adventure, or a romantic getaway with my dream guy, or counting my limitless wealth. No. In this dream, I was in a world alone. I rested on the baking hot sands outside my village, no bloodthirsty insects swarming my body to shower me in stings and bites, no shouts to take me from—

“Taylor, what are you doing? Get up. Your brother is already packed and ready!” The shout echoed both inside and outside of my mind. My beautiful mother stood over me when I wrenched apart my eyelids to look up at her. Well, beautiful on the outside at least, with her jet-black hair, narrow brown eyes, and skin far too pale to be suited for the desert. Her hair and her heart matched, I think, but I dare not say so.

“I’m up. It’s the first time I’ve overslept in months, so cut me a break, huh?” I protested, though realizing I’d used up pointless oxygen in doing so no sooner than I’d finished the sentence.

“You haven’t slept in. Your brother’s just up early since he cares about making a good impression on others. You know that our guests are due any day now.” She shoved her hand in my hair, her fingers getting stuck after just a few inches of brushing through. “You’ve been gifted with beauty, the best of both your father and I, and you can’t even be bothered to take care of your hair.” She pushed my head away roughly.

“Right, gotta look pretty for digging up terror ants and stitching up wounded pets. Thanks, Mother.”

She frowned a deep, harsh frown that made her forehead wrinkle. “You never know who will walk by, or whose eye you’ll catch when you return, or whose pet you’re treating. If you fail your exam and get stuck here, your first goal should be to marry well.”

I tensed. I’d gotten to hear this lecture several times a week for the past few years, and since I’d turned seventeen, almost every day. To say I was sick of it would be an understatement. At seventeen, I was already our village’s veterinarian. I’d become an apprentice at fourteen and should’ve studied for ten years, but my teacher died suddenly of a stroke a few months ago, leaving me to take over and the apprentice who’d started a year later than me, Cara, to become my apprentice. I could take care of myself.

At one time, my father had been a renowned inventor and teacher, but our…‘guests,’ as Mother liked to call them, had put a stop to that. His inventions interfered with our village’s adversity rating because they made everyone’s lives easier, and he was warned that if he continued, they would have to raise the threshold for passing the exams, something our ‘guests’ came by to administer yearly and allowed every eighteen-year-old the opportunity to be selected for service by PanTech, and leave the adversity zone. Father became more and more bitter. It was hard to be around him nowadays. Even the most minor accident would send him into a tirade of expletives and combinations of expletives. Sometimes new ones, as though he was determined to at least be able to continue inventing something.

“Okay,” I said to my mother, taking a deep breath. “I’ll comb my hair. Now, could I have some privacy? I’d like to get dressed, so my dear brother doesn’t have to keep waiting.” I felt a tinge of guilt hit me the moment I finished the sentence. It was meant to be a sarcastic remark to irritate Mother, but my brother had always been good to me. Better than anyone else had, at least, even though he was a fool and a coward without equal. Well, except for maybe Mother, with her ‘guests’, and ‘we should be thankful’ and all of her phrases that made Father’s face contort into shapes that might resemble a volcano if it were trying desperately not to erupt despite desperately wanting to…if volcanos were human, I guess.

“Good. Maybe try speaking a bit more lady-like too. I know you think you’re above it because you’ve been lucky in life, but if you are fortunate enough to experience greater adversity, your beauty and your manners may be all you have. Sharpen them while you can.”

I rubbed my forehead, wondering if my face was taking on the strange, furious, involuntary shapes my father’s did when she said things like this to him. I hoped I had better self-control than he did in that respect. “You’re right, of course. Thank you for your advice.” I opened the door, encouraging her to leave as politely but as quickly as I thought she’d let me away with. Thankfully, it worked. She sighed, nodded to me, and stepped quickly through the door, which I promptly closed behind her, calling up every ounce of my will not to slam it so hard it exploded into ten thousand splinters. At least, that’s what I imagined it would do if I could manage to convert my irritation directly into physical strength.

Closing the door left me staring into the mirror that hung from it, cracked, from the times I hadn’t been able to summon that willpower. Maybe I’d inherited my temperament from my father, the way my brother did from our mother. I’d inherited his dark skin as well, but unfortunately not his hair and eyes. Every time I looked into this mirror, I saw a darker-skinned version of Mother, looking back at me and judging me for being such a disappointment. I’m not sure why I cared. Would Mother really be happy if I put on makeup, spent an hour brushing my hair, and walked around town pretending to struggle with carrying some tiny something until a handsome, rich boy tore it from my hands, steadied me on my feet, and kissed me deeply before promising I’d never want for anything ever again? My cheeks warmed a little at the thought, but I snapped back into reality, scolding myself for getting caught up in the scene that played out in my mind. Stupid imaginary handsome stranger and his perfect kissing technique, muscled arms, and long wavy hair blowing in the desert wind. Grrr! I’ll punch him in the face if I ever see him…maybe. I shook my head violently and slammed my open hands into my cheeks. Pull it together, Taylor.

I threw open my closet doors. My tiny wardrobe of highly practical and very unladylike outfits filled the tiny space, including the very unpretty one I designed to slow down a terror ant attack in the case that my latest technique of harvesting their hives didn’t work or didn’t work well enough. It was more of a psychological trick I played on myself than anything else. After all, it only took a few terror ant bites to leave you hunched over a bucket for days heaving out your guts and wishing your mother had never given birth to you in the first place, or that you could at least swap pains with her in the process. There was nothing quite like a terror ant bite. I was tempted to describe it as a hot nail being driven into the skin, but that would stop hurting after a few moments, whereas the terror ant’s bite didn’t for days. The tingling and numbness lasted weeks, sometimes months, in older bite victims. The lucky ones, that is. More than a few bites would land you in the grave. Your hollow bones, at least. They made quick work of everything else. I had to give my brother credit for being willing to go out and do this with me. Bravery and stupidity are siblings, my father used to say. It ended up being an ironic statement in his case.

I threw on the outfit and flung open my door before realizing I had forgotten to comb my hair. I quickly closed it again and spent the next few seconds brushing my comb through my hair painfully, completely disregarding the ‘proper’ technique my mother showed me. I didn’t have all morning, after all. Correction, the morning was all I had. Once it became light out, the terror ants were more active, and this would be suicide. It could be regardless, but we could at least take the proper precautions to put the odds in our favor. A terror ant hive was such a delicacy to PanTech’s proper citizens that it could supply my clinic and feed my family for weeks. Apparently, you could only find them here, or so I guessed. It’s not like we knew anything about the other adversity zones. Or how many there were. We assume that there must be several, considering we didn’t recognize any of the employees who came by to check in our cozy little village to ensure our adversity level was still optimal. For our own good, of course.

My second attempt to leave my room worked out better. Just outside my door, rounding the corner, was the common room where my mother was preparing food. My brother was sitting at the table, a small piece of meat on his plate. He’d remembered my instructions, at least. If you ate a full meal while trying to wear these clothes, things would get unbearably tight very quickly. The longest I’d ever been able to wear it when testing it was a few hours, and by then, you’re up against prolonged restricted breathing or a heat stroke, both of which were preferred death to terror ant bites. “Thanks for being ready,” I offered. “We’d better get going.”

My father’s attention was held by a mess of papers on the large wooden table, glancing over them while finishing a long puff on his smoking pipe. Preparing the upcoming school year’s curriculum in something, I suppose. He was brilliant, so it could’ve been anything. But, aside from my brother and I, he didn’t have the heart to teach anymore. “I still think you’re crazy for doing this, Tay, and even crazier for dragging your poor brother along. When you get back, I’ll need you to deliver these to the school. I’m nearly done now, so I expect I’ll be done with them by then.” He never looked up at us or took his eyes off his papers. He only took another long pull from his pipe and blew out a cloud of smoke that filled the air with a pleasant cactus berry aroma. Father was clever with language. It was frowned upon to offer your children too many kind or encouraging words. It would affect their adversity, after all, to have parents who were too kind. But, in that one simple phrase, implying he expected us to be back soon, what he’d really said was, You’re brave. I believe in you. You’ll succeed, and I’ll see you soon.

“Sure, I’ll drop them off on my way to the clinic,” I said. “Ferris, are you ready?”

“Born ready. Born ready to get this suit off as soon as possible, at least,” Ferris replied, wiggling uncomfortably in his chair.

I sighed. “If you’re going to start complaining this early, you’re going to really love it when we start walking around in them. Or when you have to put the mask on. Or when the first terror ant crawls—”

“Okay! I get it. Try not to be too grateful. You’ll hurt yourself.” His tone said he meant it as an insult, but his smile said the opposite. Only I saw the smile.

“Alright, you two need to leave. I have work to do,” Father said. “You said you needed the cooler morning air before the sunrise for this to be safest, so you better get going.” Good luck, he was most likely thinking.

I took a deep breath, or at least what would have to substitute for a deep breath, grabbed my rucksack with the supplies I needed next to the door, and lit our lantern. I stopped just before opening the door and took a long look around. I was probably crazy for doing this, and who knew what my brother was thinking. The two of us looked at each other. I placed my hand on the door handle for a long moment, my way of offering him one last chance to change his mind. He didn’t.

We flung open the door and ventured out into the dark, open desert to tempt fate for profit.