The first few days after we left the mountain, excited chatter swirled around us. People were eager to see something new,and apparently, many of the younger children had never left the mountain.
The thrill of adventure has worn off, giving way to constant complaints, as children loudly make their displeasure of being forced to walk for yet another day known. Their parents soothe them, but there’s only so many times a mother can tell her child that the end will come “soon” before their offspring gives up all pretense of civility.
I don’t blame the children for being upset. This has been a very long, tedious journey, and the days are melting together. I almost miss being in the woods—almost.
I’m at the back of the group where several wagons are being pulled by mules. A few carry supplies, and three of them cart the injured, including Gabriel.
The mule pulling my Hunter’s wagon answers to the name Lucy. Although her name is sweet, she isnot. Lucy bites and kicks and stomps every time someone gets too close, making Chaos seem like a sweet little pony. Unfortunately, the gelding isn’t here. He, along with the rebels’ horses, is being moved above ground to the new location. It was too dangerous for everyone to follow that route, so, we are walking through endless tunnels.
Lucy’s driver, Byron, has to call out to the young children several times a day, reminding them to avoid her hooves. When the younglings run past, Lucy takes aim for their heads. The mule is temperamental, and she doesn’t seem to like anyone, but I think she hates me the most.
As if she knows I’m thinking about her, Lucy looks back, and I swear, she’s glaring at me. I’ve never been hated by an animal before—most of them love me—and it’s an odd feeling.
Still, I don’t want to anger her, so I duck my head and peer out from under my lashes. A few seconds later, she huffs and looks ahead once more. Maybe it’s not me she hates butthe situation we find ourselves in. The tunnels are low, and the ceiling barely rises above my head. I’m not sure Gabriel would be able to stand straight.
I run my hand down the side of the wagon, brushing Gabriel’s clammy skin.
“I’m still here, Gabe,” I say softly. “I’m keeping my promise. I won’t leave you.”
Every night, I lie down next to the wagon in case he wakes while I’m sleeping.
“I’m not sure where we’re going,” I confide in his still form, hoping that Eva is right and talking to him will help. “But I’ve picked up bits and pieces. Everyone keeps calling it a camp.”
I pause, but other than the steady crunching of stones beneath the wheels, there’s no response.
“I don’t know what it’ll look like. I guess it could be a city of tents, although I’m not sure how they would keep that hidden. Several people have mentioned something called the net, but I don’t know what they’re talking about.”
More silence.
Reaching into the wagon, I pick up Gabriel’s hand. “I bet if you were awake, you’d know all the details by now. You have a way of talking to people and gathering information that I admire.”
Still nothing. The silence is weighted and depressing.
After a while, I let go of Gabriel’s hand so I can focus on walking. It’ll be another few hours before we stop to give the children a break, and I need to concentrate on keeping a steady pace.
It’s lonely back here. Byron isn’t the chatty type, and Skyler is at the front of the caravan with most of the other rebel soldiers. When we left, she told me to ask her if I needed anything, but I don’t really think my questions are worth bothering her.
After we stop for water and a small snack break, I practice drawing up my magic while walking. This has been part of my daily routine since the battle. Blue sparks flit around my fingers, and they come more quickly today than they did yesterday.
I manage to engulf my hand in my blue flames before I put them out for fear of accidentally hurting someone.
By the time we stop for the night, I’m barely able to lift one foot in front of the other. Still, I reach into the wagon, trailing my fingers down Gabriel’s cold cheek.
“Please wake up.” I repeat the words I’ve said a dozen times over. “I need you, Gabriel. I need to hear your voice. Talk to me. Yell at me. Give me a fucking head start, for the suns’ sakes. Just come back.Please.”
This time, the responding silence is unbearable. I never knew how much I needed to hear Gabriel’s voice until it was gone.
That night, as I lie beside the wagon, hot, salty tears dampen my cheeks. I’m not crying for the pain in my feet or my legs. I’m not even crying for everything I’ve lost. Every tear and worry is for the man who has slowly become the most important person in my life. It’s painfully ironic I haven’t reached this realization until now.
As sleep threatens to pull me into its embrace, I twirl Amelia’s bracelet around my wrist. I don’t believe in the gods anymore, but I still shut my eyes and reach out into the universe.
Please, I whisper, casting my words into the darkness of my mind.If anyone can hear me, if anyone is there, please help him. Heal him from whatever is keeping him from me.
There is no answer, but I won’t break my promise. I will remain by Gabriel’s side no matter what.
Once, I ran from him.
Now, I need him.
