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San Volcán, it felt like ages ago.
Luckily for me, there were no Guardias. While I was grateful to be out of the tunnel, and far away from the Canciller, this wouldn't be over until I got out of Arrebol.
Magda was being watched over by Santiago. That meant that I could leave. A pang of loneliness hit me in the chest, and I hugged my arms close to my body, trying to preserve the heat. I'd been running away from the Canciller, but I had run away from Antonio and Magda as well. Would they worry about me?
Would Antonio try to help me the same way he had after the audition?
During the ball, Antonio had wanted me to stay. He had told me that there was a surprise waiting for me.
Despite the cold, my skin heated. He had been so close, and neither one of us had wanted to step away after our dance finished.
I shook my head and closed my eyes while my throat tightened. Nothing mattered in relation to him anymore. It didn't matter that we had danced, or that I had saved his life. I was going to leave that all behind in the dead of the night.
That made my eyes burn in the cold with unshed tears.
Survival was my first priority, leaving Arrebol was the second. As long as I was here, everyone was in danger. If I could leave, maybe they would stop searching. Maybe they would let me go.
But first, I needed to get moving. My plan was simple, not unlike the plan I had made to escape Puerto Dolores. After the bombings, Magda and I had taken a train to Casas Grandes. While there was no place in the Islas de Arrebol that would be safe for me, I was sure that if I could find a boat willing to take me somewhere new, I could start again.
Alone, but alive.
A thick blanket of snow covered everything, and I shivered at the undiluted frost that sank into my fingers. The sky was cloudy and starless, and all around me were shades of gray and black. Only moonlight from the low-hanging moon broke through the gauzy masses to illuminate my way as I walked. It drew me toward the faint glow of the city lights.
The snow crunched beneath my feet as I trudged forward. I could ignore the fit of the boots because I was so relieved not to be freezing.
Within the hour, the sun burst over the horizon. The sky lit up in a beautiful blush of pink, and hope swelled within me.
I blinked back a fresh wave of tears.
It was the solstice, the first one I’d ever spent alone. I was supposed to be sleeping in after the night's festivities. I was supposed to be putting on a dress, and I could've been walking through the gardens with Magda.
It was obscene how much the trajectory of a life could change in a mere twenty-four hours.
Pain like I hadn't known for a long time washed through me. I had to get to the capital before anyone found me.
Chapter3
Los Lobos Del Bosque
After an hour of walking, my vision clouded. Staying up for the last thirty hours had taken its toll on my body. A depth of weariness burrowed itself into the foundations of my being. Even taking slow, quick steps was like walking across hot coals.
At least I was warm. There were worse ways to flee.
Progress through the forest was hard to track, and I was only aimed in the general direction of the capital. Luckily, I had been awake when the sun had risen, so I had a good grasp of my general location.
My mind and body begged for sleep so loudly that when I reached a small clearing, I collapsed onto the hard, frozen ground. I laid there, the cold seeping into my bones while I drifted off to sleep. It felt like walking through a familiar door leading me to a land I hadn’t been to in a long time.
Dreaming didn’t guarantee a friendly environment, but at least the sunshine would add another layer of warmth while I rested.
When I awoke, the bright light had faded to a frosty blue glow over the forest. Hunger and thirst alerted me almost immediately, followed by the acute awareness of a figure looming over me.
Cursing, I jumped to my feet.
“Buenas noches, Doña,” I said quickly, more out of habit than politeness. The setting sun had set the sky on fire, as if in a burning tribute to its departure. I had slept much longer than I wanted, and my body was stiff and the toe of my boot was covered with a patch of frost.
There was an old woman, a Dreg by the state of her clothing, who had no intention of returning my pleasantries. Dregs were known for their nomadic lifestyles. With no families or systems in place to support them effectively, they traveled from place to place seeking a way to survive.
She looked almost as ridiculous as me in her oversized coat paired with threadbare pants, and I was a young woman running through the snow in an old Guardias coat, clown-big shoes, and large golden jewelry encrusted with diamonds. Sleeping in the mud had done little to actually soak the strange, resistant material the Guardias used, but I could feel grime caked to my arms.
