I sprinted, panting, toward the forest. My younger sister, Annie, was close by my side. My feet tore through the tall meadow grass as I ran, desperately trying to achieve a longer stride. Sweat rolled down my face, stinging my eyes, and my pace began to decelerate as my sides ached from the exertion. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t push myself to go any faster—my strength was beginning to abandon me.
A massive tiger chased after us, and the taste of fear flooded my mouth as I imagined it seizing my life in its mighty paws. My breaths were rapid and panicked, and the tiger closed in on us with each stride I took. As I glanced over my shoulder to see how much it had gained on us, I stumbled over a log directly in my path. The ground rushed up to meet me, and I let out an “Oomph!” as I caught myself on my elbows.
Annie ran on, unaware that I had fallen. I rolled over and crawled backward, frantically trying to put some distance between myself and the tiger. My heart thundered in my chest as my panic and desperation grew. At the brink of the forest, Annie finally glanced over her shoulder, halting when she saw the tiger about to pounce on me.
“Rachel!” she cried.
“Annie, help!” I screamed as I shielded my face with my arms and shut my eyes in terror. The tiger let out a ferocious roar, and I felt the whistle of wind as it leapt toward me, claws extended and razor-sharp. I wondered briefly if this was how my life was going to end as I braced myself for impact, my heart hammering so hard it felt like it would burst out of my chest.
Annie quickly took out a small silver handgun and fired at the tiger. A long rope twirled out of the nozzle of her gun and wrapped around the enormous animal. The tiger began to thrash violently against the rope, and I seized that moment to crawl out of its reach before it could finish me off. Keeping my eyes trained on the tiger, I scrabbled across the meadow, gasping in short, anxious breaths.
Annie’s rope constricted the tiger, squeezing tighter and tighter until the beast could resist no more. Finally, the rope released, and the tiger was left lying dead and still on the ground. The rope vanished, retracting to reload in Annie’s gun.
Relief crashed over me as I stared at the motionless tiger, and my pounding heart began to quiet. Still shaken from the encounter, I slowly climbed to my feet and spit dirt out of my mouth.
“Rachel, are you okay?” Annie ran to my side.
“Y-yeah. Thanks.” I brushed my orange hair out of my face. Orange. That’s my Color. We live in the land of Kuzmos, where everyone has a signature Color. Annie’s Color is Pink—her hair is blond, though. Not everyone in Kuzmos has hair that matches their signature Color. Everyone is born with hair of their Color, but it fades away to a natural color within a month. My hair just happens to naturally have an orange tint to it.
Signature Colors are permanent, and they play a much bigger role in defining us as a person. All of those Colors come from the rainbow: Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Indigo. Purple. Pink. If you put the first letter of each Color together, it spells out Roy G. Bipp, which isn’t a coincidence. Roy G. Bipp is actually a real person, the bravest hero Kuzmos has ever had.
Roy G. Bipp was a man who lived several centuries ago, before the time of our Colors. He lived during a time of dragons, which was a far more dangerous era. Back then, dragons would wreak havoc everywhere, annihilating houses, shops, and entire villages. There was always something up in flames. People used to live in fear, petrified to even step out of their own houses. Many men trained to fight the beasts, each vying to be the one to put an end to the dragons.
But all of them failed.
Then, one valiant young man, Roy G. Bipp, stepped up to do what none of those men could accomplish. Single-handedly, Roy managed to banish all the dragons from Kuzmos for all of eternity. Unfortunately, he died in the act, so to this day, no one knows exactly how he did it. Rumors have circulated, speculating the details of what happened, but there is one thing everyone can agree on: the curse.
Right before Roy banished the final dragon from Kuzmos, the dragon uttered a curse upon our people—that no one would live in harmony and we’d be forever isolated from the rest of the world. That curse separated us into our signature Colors, and in honor of Roy G. Bipp, we named them after him.
Annie blew out a frustrated sigh once she realized I was okay. “I hate how much we have to deal with things like this because of those stupid Reds.” She kicked at the unmoving tiger’s paw. “Sometimes I wish Reds didn’t exist.”
“Hey, if they didn’t exist, neither would we,” I told her. “As frustrating as the Reds are, we just have to deal with them because there’s nothing else we can do.”
Our mother was a Red—it’s thanks to her that Annie and I are alive right now. The problem is that all Reds in Kuzmos loathe the Pinks with a burning passion. So after our mom gave birth to Annie, she left us, not being able to cope with having a Pinky in the family. We never saw her again. My dad’s a Yellow—or, he was a Yellow. He passed away last month, and that’s when my whole world was turned upside down.
Before Annie was born, I vaguely remember a time when my mom, my dad, and I were one happy family. My mom cared for me as any loving mother would, and I remember she and my dad were extremely happy together. Once Annie was born, that all changed. My mom and dad started arguing a lot more, and they never had time for me anymore. My dad’s attention was mostly focused on Annie since she was younger than me and needed more care, and my mom became much more distant.
I remember one night when my dad was screaming at my mom, holding Annie tight in his arms. My mom was brandishing a gun, which wasn’t unusual, since we had a whole chest of guns in our living room, and I’d even held one before. What confused me was that my mom had it loaded and aimed at Annie, even though both my parents had stressed how dangerous it was to aim a weapon at someone. I never saw my mother again after that night. Later, when Annie and I were old enough to understand how Colors worked, our dad told us she had tried to kill Annie that night.
After my mom deserted us, my dad tried his best to play the parental role on his own. He wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough for Annie and me. I have some amazing memories of the three of us together. He was away a lot for his job so he could support us, but at least Annie and I learned how to be independent and live on our own. Every day used to be so bright and sunny when my dad was around, and now that he’s gone, it feels like dark gray clouds have settled over the sky and lingered for the past month. The clouds have slowly begun to blow away, but too many still remain.
With my mother being a Red and my father being a Yellow, it was a lot harder to predict what Color Annie and I would be. With two parents of the same Color, a child is almost guaranteed to be the same Color as them; you never know what two different Colors will combine to make. Red and yellow combine well to make orange, and that’s how I was born. But births don’t always follow the rules of Color combinations, so that’s how we got Annie.
Annie bent down to inspect the tiger, and sure enough: there was a thin red band encircling its front left paw.
“Darn those Reds,” Annie muttered.
My blood began to boil with contempt at her discovery. The Reds had been chasing Annie her entire life, and I was fed up with it. They want to kill her for the same reason my mom tried to kill Annie when she was a baby—the Red and Pink rivalry. This rivalry has been going on for over a century, originating from an intense encounter between the two Colors. The Reds want completely to exterminate the Pinks—or as everyone else calls them, the Pinkys—from Kuzmos. Reds as young as toddlers have it drilled into their minds that the Pinkys are dangerous, which ultimately leads to them growing up to support the Pinky genocide.
The one small comfort is that the Reds who dedicate themselves to hunting Pinkys don’t kill the kids. Early in the rivalry, the Reds established a prison in their village, and that’s where they keep all the Pinky kids until they’re adults. The Reds claim that it’s part of their “good nature” and that they’re being humane, but the amount of free labor the prison gives them says otherwise. The Pinkys may live to see adulthood, but many would say that their life ends upon entering the prison.
There have been numerous attempts over the previous century to stop the Reds from continuing in their cruel ways, but all have been in vain. The Reds gained the upper hand early in the rivalry, and the Pinkys have never been able to overcome it. They tried to seek help from the other Colors, but no one was willing to help—it was all part of the dragon’s curse to isolate everyone from one another. The dragon’s curse created a divide between all the Colors, and thus arose the problem of Color prejudice. Even to this day, most Colors are reluctant to help other Colors.
I was ripped from my thoughts as the tiger picked up its head and roared weakly one last time. Startled, Annie gasped and fell backward. The tiger’s head finally sagged to the ground again, its eyes fluttering shut for the last time.
I helped Annie up. “Ready?” I asked.
She nodded, and we whistled for our pets.
Nearly every kid in Kuzmos who’s ten or older owns a pet. It’s a fond tradition for parents to take their kid to a pet store on their tenth birthday and give them the chance to pick out an animal. The options are always abundant—there are so many pet stores scattered throughout the villages. Once a kid chooses a new pet, that animal receives a colored band of its owner’s signature Color around its paw, hoof, or fin. This marks the animal as a pet, protecting it from hunters.
I watched as a beautiful golden lioness came racing out of the woods toward us, followed by a magnificent bronzed griffin. I smiled. The lioness was Annie’s pet, Sandy. Annie’s had Sandy for just over a year now, and they’ve become very close in that time. I’m just as tight—maybe even tighter—with my griffin, Kya. We’ve been together for a little longer than five years, and I’ve loved every minute of it that I spend with her.
You didn’t get into any trouble, did you? Kya nickered as she nuzzled me with her head.
That’s another thing about our pets—they can communicate with their owner. The connection happens soon after the animal receives its colored band, but it only extends to its owner. I can talk with Kya, but not with Sandy.
“Of course not, Kya,” I murmured, stroking her head.
Uh-huh. Her eyes tracked the dead tiger on the ground in front of us. Then why did you kill a Red tiger?
I sighed. “You can probably guess.”
Understanding dawned in Kya’s eyes. You should get home, then.
I nodded, swinging myself onto her back. Next to me, Annie climbed atop Sandy. Our faithful animals broke into a run, carrying us home.
Annie took the lead, her petite body bouncing up and down atop Sandy as she rode. Her long, blond hair flew out behind her with the grace of a waterfall, fluttering in the wind. Her hair always reminds me of our father—he had the same fair-colored locks. She also has his bright-blue eyes, and as she turned around to give me a smile, they lit up like the sky.
I returned the gesture, my vivid emerald eyes crinkling as my mouth curved upward. We began to approach our house, and I pushed my hair out of my face as I looked up, scanning the trees.
At last, Kya and Sandy came to a stop at the base of a large tree. I climbed off Kya’s back and went over to the trunk, wrapping my hand around a lever hidden in the bark. I pulled it down, and a rope ladder tumbled down the tree. Annie and I climbed up, and Sandy and Kya trotted around to the side of the tree where we kept bowls of water out for them.
I pulled myself into our homey tree house through a large, open window that reached from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. I was about to collapse onto the sofa when I noticed Annie open our chest of guns. She rifled through them, muttering to herself as she selected a few.
“What are you doing?” I asked her.
“Getting more protection,” she replied. “We’re going to need it.”
“Why?” I asked, wondering what she was talking about.
“We’ll need the extra protection when we go back, in case the Reds try to attack us again.”
Annie may only be eleven, but with the mature way she acts, you’d think she was older. She’s always trying to prove that she can handle more responsibilities and sometimes gets it in her head that she can make decisions on her own without consulting anybody else.
Like now.
“Are you serious? We can’t go back now. There are Reds lurking nearby,” I told her, my brow knitting in disbelief.
“Rachel, if we don’t go back now, we’ll have to wait two days to trade. Tomorrow’s Sunday, and you know that we can’t trade on Sundays. And our food supply is already too low,” Annie reasoned. “We don’t have the money to buy any more food. We need this trade.”
“Annie, they could kill you,” I tried to tell her, my voice fraught with concern.
“At most, they’d capture me,” Annie retorted, not seeming too fazed by the fact.
“Annie, you know that the Reds only keep Pinkys alive until they’re adults. You’d still end up in their prison for years,” I said worriedly, wishing she would take the matter more seriously. After our dad had passed away, it had fallen upon me to protect my little sister. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t fail, and I wasn’t about to break that promise.
“Well, I’m going now, with or without you,” Annie told me, holstering the selected weapons at her side. She crossed into another room and slung a few furs over her shoulder to use for trading. With one more meaningful glance at me, she walked back to the window and descended the rope ladder, gripping its sides tightly in her small hands.
I bit my lip anxiously as I watched her. From my experience, when Annie got this stubborn, there was no changing her mind. She would stay true to her word and make the trade, whether or not I came with her. The least I could do was go along to give her more protection.
“Wait for me,” I called down.
I went over to our chest and glanced through the weapons, picking out the ones that would provide us with the best defense. We have a pretty substantial collection of guns, which is normal for fur traders. Our father was a fur trader, and before he died, he introduced Annie and me to all the duties of fur trading. Now, we continue his work to support ourselves.
A few times a week, we hunt animals for their furs. There’s such an overwhelming number of wild animals in Kuzmos that certain measures need to be taken to reduce that number. Some people catch animals and take them to the pet stores, but we catch them for their fur, which we then trade for food or money. Depending on the type of animal we’re hunting, we need a specific kind of weapon, and for that reason, we have several dozen different guns in our chest.
It’s very important to take the right kind of weapon for the right animal; otherwise, it might not have the intended effect. That’s what led to my father’s fatal mistake. He was out for a hunt, tracking down a beast of a lion. Before he left, he’d accidentally grabbed a gun for smaller animals, so when he shot the lion, it had little effect. All it did was enrage the lion, who turned on him and attacked. My father had another gun on him, but by the time he realized his first gun was useless and reached for the second one, the lion was already on him. Another hunter passing by saw the whole thing, but by the time he jumped in and killed the lion, it was too late.
My father was already gone.
Annie and I were informed of his death later that night, and I vividly remember crying all night with her in my arms. It took a huge toll on both of us. Ever since then, we’ve been extra careful in making sure we have the right equipment for the right situation.
Selecting a few weapons, I holstered the guns by my side. My gaze fell upon a newspaper on our side table, and I paused to scan it. From my angle, I could read the headline: MASS BREAKOUT AT PINKY PRISON. FIVE PINKYS ON THE LOOSE.
It wasn’t uncommon for Pinkys to try to escape from the Pinky Prison. In fact, once every few months, an attempt actually succeeded. Sometimes the Pinkys even had help from the outside. Despite that, I didn’t want to test our luck. If Annie was captured, there was a good chance I’d never see her again, and I’d never be able to handle that. Especially not with the loss of our father so recently.
I averted my eyes from the newspaper and walked over to the window. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I lowered myself down the ladder.
Annie was already sitting atop Sandy, and Kya stood next to them, waiting for me. I pulled the lever hidden in the trunk again, and the ladder folded and retreated back up the tree. I moved over to Kya and placed my hands on her bronzed feathers. I was about to swing a leg over her back when an idea struck me.
“Actually, wait,” I said, turning toward Annie. “Why don’t you turn into Sandy? It would disguise you better.”
All Pinkys are born with the power to turn into their pets, and they have full access to that ability as soon as they’re old enough to choose their pets. This power, while extraordinary, can also be dangerous, which is why the Reds hold such a grudge against Pinkys.
Centuries ago, before they hated each other, Reds and Pinkys were actually civil toward one another. They weren’t necessarily allies, but their relationship used to be no different from any of the other Colors. The incident that began the rivalry started with two teenage boys—a Red and a Pinky. Both sons of village chiefs, they got along better than most. They spent a great amount of time together and even shared the same pet: a wolf.
Then one day, the Red pulled a cruel prank on the Pinky by pretending to be an attacker and frightening him. The Pinky, on instinct, turned into his wolf and attacked the Red. He was so blinded by fear that he ended up killing the Red. This could have been considered an accident if not for the Pinky’s attitude afterward.
The Pinky threw his friendship with the Red out the window after the incident and wasn’t afraid to go around to others gloating about his feat. He was convinced that the Red had deserved it for playing such a dirty trick. The matter might not have received much attention if the boys were regular citizens, but since they were sons of the village chiefs, it quickly escalated. The Red village chief was furious at the Pinky’s family and immediately demanded that the boy be put on trial. The Pinky’s family fought back, but eventually, they went to trial and the Pinky lost. He was executed right away.
After that, things quickly spiraled out of control. The Pinky village chief felt that his son had been wrongly accused, so he took it upon himself to exact the necessary revenge. Shaw—that was his last name. Everyone knows of the attack of the Shaws. The family recruited the support of the entire Pinky Village and struck the Reds head-on. With Pinky Chief Shaw in charge, they absolutely devastated the Red Village. In only a few months, they destroyed the entire village, sparing few Reds.
The Reds eventually managed to recover from the attack of the Shaws, and they came back stronger than the Pinkys. They rebuilt their village, adding the Pinky Prison, then started targeting Pinkys, fearing that they would attempt something like that again. To this day, Reds go around Kuzmos, capturing or killing any Pinkys that they encounter.
Now, it’s the Pinkys who live in fear of the Reds. The Pinkys built a thick wall around their village to protect themselves from the Reds, but nothing can entirely eliminate the threat of the other Color. Whenever they venture outside their protective barrier, the Pinkys still have to deal with the fact that a Red could identify their Color at any time and kill them.
It used to be much easier to determine someone’s Color before the rivalry. Everyone wore something of their Color every day, whether it was a shirt, coat, or pants. Once the Reds began capturing the Pinkys, the Pinkys stopped wearing their Color. Soon, every other Color stopped as well. Rumors say that the Reds developed a skill to tell someone’s Color just by looking at them. But it’s hard to know for sure—the Reds are tight-lipped with their secrets.
Annie climbed off Sandy, agreeing that she would disguise herself in animal form. She sent her golden lioness off into the woods, and Kya followed. Now I would be able to pretend that Annie was my pet.
Annie closed her eyes to concentrate, and slowly, her exterior features began to morph. Her hair retreated into her scalp until only a short tuft remained, and golden hair sprouted along the rest of her body. As her hands and feet grew bigger and thicker, it became harder for her to stand on two legs, and she finally fell forward on all fours. Whiskers emerged from her face, her nose and mouth elongating into a snout. Her ears moved higher up and became rounder as they expanded in size. Her eyes turned a shade of amber, while the rest of her pelt was deepening in color. Finally, a ropy tail developed to complete the look.
I sized up Annie. “Incredible,” I murmured as a smile curved on my face. As many times as I had seen her transform, it never ceased to amaze me. “Now you look like my pet. Let’s go.”
We set off toward the Indigo Village—our usual trading destination. As we weaved through the woods, I began to relax. Everything around us was tranquil and calm. Birds chirped, a gentle breeze blew, and sunlight glittered through the trees in bright rays. I even saw a lithe deer prancing around the trees a little way off. If the deer felt comfortable enough in this area, I supposed I could feel less anxious. We had our guns, Annie was in disguise, and we had killed the tiger. All we had to do was reach the Indigo Village and make the trade, then we’d be fine.
The chirping of the birds turned into loud squawking, and there was a flutter of branches as they flapped away. I glanced back at the deer just in time to see it hurriedly scamper off, following the birds. I frowned. That was odd. Usually, animals liked to hang around and bask in the sunlight on a day as peaceful as this one. I glanced around to see what had startled them and suddenly noticed how eerily quiet the woods had become without the birds chirping. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I was so distracted by the animals that I was caught off guard when a gang of five heavily armed Red men stepped out of the trees and approached us from behind. Annie alerted me by stopping in her tracks and letting out a low growl, her hackles raised as she turned to face them.
My heart froze as I took in their deadly weapons and disagreeable scowls. My first instinct was to take out my gun and shoot, then run away, but I knew that wouldn’t work—I was outnumbered. The only way out of this was to tell them what they wanted to hear and act normal. I tried to calm myself down so I wouldn’t seem nervous. I didn’t want to give us away before they’d even begun their questioning.
I shouldn’t be too worried, anyway. Reds often did routine checks through Villages to make sure that no Pinkys were hiding from them. There was a good chance this was just another one of those, so I was sure with a bit of confidence I could bluff my way through it and keep Annie safe.
The biggest Red, who was obviously the leader, said to me in a gruff voice, “Excuse me, Miss…” His tone held an obvious question.
“Turner. Rachel Turner. Orange,” I supplied to the Red, trying to act casual as if I had nothing to hide.
“Miss Turner, have you by any chance seen any Pinkys … around …” He stopped mid-sentence as his gaze fell on Annie. His brow creased, as if he were confused by something. His confusion was quickly replaced by realization.
Nervously, I answered, “Yes? Something about Pinkys?”
The Red managed to draw his eyes away from Annie. “Yeah. Have you seen any Pinkys around here?”
I desperately tried to come up with something that wouldn’t give Annie away. “Um, no.” I tried to disguise the fear in my voice, but it still came out high and squeaky.
Luckily, the Red didn’t seem to notice, because once again, he seemed distracted. He turned and whispered into the ear of two of his companions, and they immediately walked behind me. I assumed they went into the woods to take care of some other business. I didn’t want to take my eyes off the Red leader for even a second.
“So you haven’t seen any Pinkys around here?” the Red leader asked me again. His tone had changed somehow, becoming more menacing.
“No,” I answered, growing more suspicious by the moment. My hand inched toward one of my guns.
Suddenly, Annie let out a growl and pounced on something behind me. I swiveled around, but as I did, something hit me from behind. I fell to the ground and hastily drew my gun, but it was smacked out of my grasp, my hands forced behind my back.
Annie let out another loud roar, trying to attack whoever had disarmed me. I heard the shink of a blade being unsheathed, and Annie backed up with a soft whimper. She gazed at me with big, scared eyes as the other two Reds surrounded her. I wanted to reassure her as I struggled against the Reds holding me, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t even reassure myself.
“Then why does your pet have a pink band around its paw?” the Red leader asked, emphasizing the word pet as if he were mocking me.
I tried to think of a good lie, but nothing came to mind. The only thing I could think of was a weak excuse. “Maybe you’re color blind?” I squeaked.
The Red leader glared at me.
Knowing that Annie was doomed otherwise, I tried our chances with escaping. “Run, Annie!” I shouted.
Annie pounced on the Red leader, knocking him backward. His head smashed hard into a rock, and he fell unconscious. Annie growled at the other Reds as a warning, then took off.
Once the Reds came to their senses, it wasn’t long before one of them fired his gun at Annie. She stumbled, then ran a few more steps before falling limply to the ground and remaining still.
Even from a distance, I could see the dart embedded in her side.
“Annie!” I screamed, my heart freezing. “NO!”
The two Reds still had a good grip on me, and I struggled to get free, desperate to rush to Annie and help her.
“What should we do with the Orange?” the Red who had shot Annie asked in a raspy voice.
“Shoot her. If she’s unconscious, she can’t follow us or tell anyone where we went,” another Red, probably the second in command, ordered.
The Red that wasn’t holding me grunted. “It’s just a girl. Ain’t nobody gonna believe her.”
“If she’s old enough to carry a gun, she’s old enough to experience the sting from one. Just do it.”
The second Red sighed. “Fine.” He turned to me and took out a handgun.
I froze.
The Red pointed the gun at my thigh.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
He fired.
Pain stabbed in my leg, and my attention immediately concentrated on it. I barely felt the Reds release me as the world started going dark all around me. I tried to stay conscious, but I wasn’t strong enough.
Finally, darkness swallowed me.