Nothing is certain and no one is safe in the scorching sequel to Blood Red Road , which MTV’s Hollywood Crush blog called “better than The Hunger Games .” There is a price on Saba’s head. She brought down a ruthless tyrant and saved her kidnapped brother. But winning has come at a terrible cost. Saba is haunted by her past—and a new enemy is on the rise, an enemy who searches for her across the Dust Lands. Saba needs Jack: his moonlit eyes, his reckless courage, his wild heart. But Jack has left. And her brother is haunted by ghosts of his own. Then news comes that tells her Jack can never be trusted again. Deceived and betrayed, haunted and hunted, Saba will need all of her warrior’s strength just to survive. For the enemy has cunning plans of his own… Saba and Jack are connected so deeply that when she hears he is in danger, she puts her beloved twin brother, younger sister, and friends old and new at risk to rescue him in a postapocalyptic world being ruthlessly rebuilt by a fanatic known as The Pathfinder. This sequel to Blood Red Road (2011) continues Saba and Jack’s love story and explores a complicated sibling relationship while also advancing the story line related to the visionary Pathfinder and his Tonton henchmen. Character voices are as spare as the pockmarked, wreck-littered landscape, and they come with a distinct western twang as Young masterfully moves through the seamless fantasy world she has created. Less secure readers may have trouble following the prose because the spelling supports the dialect, and the lack of quotation marks can make it difficult to track conversations. The older age designation has nothing to do with sex or violence, but reflects the mature decisions and complex relationships present in this romantic quest. Grades 9-12. --Cindy Welch Readers will be champing at the bit to get to the conclusion of this poetic, action-packed trilogy. -- Jennifer M. Brown ― Shelf Awareness "Her immersive storytelling will lure readers deeper into this dangerous, starkly lovely terrain." -- Publishers Weekly ― STARRED Moira Young is the author of the Dust Lands series. The first book, Blood Red Road , won the Costa Children’s Book Award, was a Cybils Award Winner for fantasy and science fiction, and was a Best Fiction for Young Adults selection. The Dust Lands continues with Rebel Heart , which received a starred review in Publishers Weekly , and Raging Star . A native Canadian, Moira lives with her husband in the UK. Learn more at MoiraYoung.com. Rebel Heart JACK   IT’S LATE AFTERNOON. SINCE MORNING, THE TRAIL’S BEEN following a line of light towers. That is, the iron remains of what used to be light towers, way back in Wrecker days, time out of mind. It winds through faded, folded hills, burnt grass and prickle bush. The flat heat of high summer beats on his head. His hat’s damp with sweat. The dust of long days coats his skin, his clothes, his boots. He tastes it when he licks his dry lips. It’s been a parched, mean road all the way. He crests a ridge, the trail dips down into a little valley and it’s suddenly, freshly green. The air is soft. Sharply sweet with the scent of the scrub pine that scatters the slopes. Jack pulls up his horse. He breathes in. A long, deep, grateful breath. He drinks in the view. On the cleared valley floor, a small lake glints in the sun. Beside it stands a junkshack with a bark and sod roof, the rest of it cobbled together from Wrecker trash, stones, dried mud and the odd tree trunk. A man, a woman and a girl are working in the well-tended patches of cultivated land. People. At last. Apart from the white mustang, Atlas, he hasn’t spoken to a soul for days. His aloneness was starting to weigh him down. An there was I, he says aloud, thinkin I was th’only person on the planet. He whistles a tune as he rides on. He calls a hello as they leave their work and come to meet him. They aren’t particularly friendly. They’ve got weary faces. Wary eyes. They’re little used to company, take little interest in the wider world and have little to say. Never mind. Just seeing them and having this awkward, mainly one-sided conversation cheers him no end. The man’s worn out. The woman’s sick. Dying, if he’s any judge of such things. With yellowish skin, her mouth set tight against pain. The girl’s sturdy enough, fourteen or so. She stares at her boots. Silent, even when he speaks to her direct. But her plain, flat face lights with love when her brother comes running from the shack, calling her name, Nessa! Nessa! He’s a cheerful berry of a child. A barefoot, round-eyed four-year-old called Robbie. His family gazes at him with such fond wonderment that it’s clear they can’t quite believe their good fortune. He leans against his sister’s legs, sucks his thumb energetically and sizes up Jack. The battered, wide-brimmed hat. The silver eyes. The lean, tanned face that hasn’t seen a razor for weeks. The long, dusty coat and worn boots. The cro