One month ago, children began vanishing. Panic spread throughout every terrain as the "snagglers" struck. Criminals, concealed in the shadows, picked children like fruit from a tree in the dead of night. The Pures enforced a lockdown throughout the city. By sundown, all the Terrain-gates would be closed and military troops would patrol outside each Terrain to make sure no one entered or exited. Anyone who missed the deadline faced a choice: to hide, praying not to be unfortunate enough to cross paths with a band of snagglers, or to be mistaken for one.

I dragged my feet through the mud. It latched onto my ankles, seeping into my boots, squelching as I strained to pull them out. Dark, hair plastered my face. I gritted my teeth, tightening my grip on a small, cold hand, urging the soaked figure forward. Catherine's pale face peeked out from underneath her hood. Sniffling, she looked up with round coffee-brown eyes.

"I can't feel my toes, Robbie." I forced a smile despite the chilling numbness.

"The quicker we get home you can warm your toes in a nice bath. How does that sound?" With a slight nod she trudged onwards.

I glanced at the sun behind the drizzling rain, it radiated on the black horizon, dragging down ashen clouds, pulsing a sickening amber haze. A familiar outline emerged behind the hill. Squinting my eyes, I saw the gate: it was closed.