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It was the work of moments to shove everything Genevieve had gathered into a pack she'd found, but even then, it was moments too long. When the birds had come and Ryker had scurried off to find his cousin in the mess, Ginny had taken shelter in the ship, along with a handful of other people. She'd gotten to work immediately, scouting the ship for useful supplies, but she hadn't ignored the chatter at the hatch. A few of the beasts had fluttered in, and she'd smiled to see them, but right on their heels was a roar that would star in her nightmares for weeks to come.

She should have figured nothing beautiful would happen without a price.

Screams rippled through the assembled teens as the ground rumbled, and Genevieve's face went white. She had an instant to decide—stay and hide, or run with the rest. Fight or flight; scatter or solidarity.

Ginny's choice was pretty obvious when she came tearing out of the ship a few heart-stopping seconds later, backpack bouncing on her back as she sprinted to catch up with the others—and hand fastened around the wrist of a crying twelve year old. Her lungs were burning as she dragged her charge in her wake, and oh, she [i]wished[/i] she'd kept herself in better shape—there had just never seemed much point, locked up in a 10x10 cell and the only anticipated absence would be her execution date. A conversation she'd overheard years ago on the rare day at the track with the other inmates floated through her head.

[i]You don't have to be the fastest, you just can't be the slowest.[/i]

She'd always hated gym class.