Xe tucked the blankets around her, then went back to the dining room to continue Isaho’s digging because there was some faint chance that one or the other of xe’s bondmates was still alive, protected by the table or some vagary of the falling walls.

Xe uncovered Bazekiyl’s hand, flattened and broken yet still lovely, pale gray-green, smooth as the bark of a silk tree, almost as soft as Isaho’s baby skin. Xe pulled the ribbon free, knelt weeping and rolling it into a tight cylinder. Because xe couldn’t bear to dig any more, not right then, xe took the ribbon to the old refrigerator, set it an one of the shelves, and stood looking down at her daughter. Xe was the last alive of xe’s clan and everyone xe knew had little room in their lives for anyone else. Xe didn’t know what to do.

Isaho’s face was relaxed, her breathing slow and deep, but she was crying as she slept, tears seeping past her short thick lashes, sliding down the sides of her face to wet her pillow.

Thann went back to digging.

When xe uncovered Mandall’s head, xe’s last hope died. Xe bent and kissed the matted brown crest hair falling over his ear, the only place xe could bear to touch, then began covering him again.

Xe’d almost finished when a sound brought xe swiveling around, a piece of broken brick in xe’s hand.

Isaho. The ribbon was tied in her hair, a big awkward ugly bow. She was looking out past the pile of rubble, not seeing it because she was seeing something else, though what it was Thann couldn’t guess. Xe’s thinta read anguish driven so deep it was almost not there-and over the top of it was a frightening eagerness, a need that reached out and covered over everything like the devouring iscabu weed that was eating Khokuhl almost as fast as the shells were destroyed the city.

“Linojin,” Isaho said suddenly. “Mam and Baba and

Keleen, they’ve gone to Linojin. We have to go find them, Anya meami. Soon as it gets light, we have to go.”