Yelena's head cants slightly, expression shading thoughtful. "If we're lucky, it will be a thing," she says. "Like the poem they made us all read when we got here."

The poem she still suspects, deep down in the most distrustful corners of her heart, might be the real reason they seem to be targetted by horrors when they strain their leash too far.

"No one has said anything about something being done to them, at least."