“This here is Burns. Now, he’s with us, so don’t go crazy. He’s my best friend-saved my life a hundred times. He’s one of our family, and we don’t take kindly to it when people try to kill him.”

One of the women slowly pulled her gun out and held it pointed at the ground.

The redhead spoke for the first time in a distinctly gentle tenor voice. “No, it’s okay, Nate. See? They’ve got one of their own.” He pointed straight at me, and Ian tensed. “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s gone native.”

Burns grinned at me, then crossed the empty space, the no-man’s-land between the two tribes, with his hand stretched out toward me.

I stepped out from around Ian, ignoring his muttered warning, abruptly comfortable and sure.

I liked the way Burns had phrased it. Gone native.

Burns stopped in front of me, lowering his hand a bit to compensate for the considerable difference in our heights. I took his hand-it was hard and callused next to my delicate skin-and shook it.

“Burns Living Flowers,” he introduced himself.

My eyes widened at his name. Fire World-how unexpected.

“Wanderer,” I told him.

“It’s… extraordinary to meet you, Wanderer. And here I thought I was one of a kind.”

“Not even close,” I said, thinking of Sunny back in the caves. Perhaps we were none of us as rare as we thought.

He raised an eyebrow at my answer, intrigued.

“Is that so?” he said. “Well, maybe there’s some hope for this planet, after all.”

“It’s a strange world,” I murmured, more to myself than to the other native soul.

“The strangest,” he agreed.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

STEPHENIE MEYER graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in English literature. She lives with her husband and three sons in Arizona. Read more about Stephenie and her other books at www.stepheniemeyer.com.