ONCE AGAIN, HOPE SLEEPS hardly at all. It’s not just what the Hunter said but other things, too. Like the memory of the Heartland.
They’d made it there once before, and not a day goes by when Hope doesn’t remember the life they glimpsed that night. Families having picnics. Children playing tag. Musicians in gazebos. More heaven-like than any heaven she could imagine.
They’d done the right thing. Crawling under the fence and coming back for the others. Trying to save the Less Thans and Sisters. Still, Hope longs for the day when she can have even a fraction of that happiness . . . with someone by her side.
She runs her hands through her hair and then lets them linger on her face. Who is she kidding? There’s no chance of that. Not with these two grotesque scars.
Morning comes and Cat returns from watch. “There’s one out there,” he says.
Heads turn. They know exactly what he’s talking about.
“Close?” Flush asks.
“Close enough.”
“Could just be a loner,” Flush says hopefully. “Not from the Libertyville pack, just one on its own.”
“Could be.”
But then again, probably not, Hope thinks.
They break camp and set out. They’re getting good at these hasty departures. The snow comes down hard, falling throughout the day. When they left Dodge’s Log Lodges, it was up to their ankles. Now it’s nearly to their knees.
Book takes point, the first to burrow through the thick drifts. Cat offers to take his place, but Book refuses. It’s like he’s driven to get out of here. Hope wonders if he’s trying to get away from Dodge’s . . . or her.
The blizzard still rages when they stop for the night, and their clothes are plastered in white. They look like mythological creatures.
There’s no way they can go on a hunt, and all they have left is a dwindling supply of onions and potatoes. After tying the Hunters to a grove of trees, the Sisters and Less Thans huddle together against the side of a cut bank, trying to ignore their gnawing hunger. Book is as far away from Hope as possible. When Hope gives him a glance, he looks in the other direction.
“You’re not going to make it,” the Man in Orange calls out gleefully, just as everyone’s about to fall asleep. “You should’ve let us kill you when we had a chance.” He leans his head back and lets out a mocking laugh.
Hope grits her teeth but says nothing. She doesn’t have the energy or desire.
An hour or so later, when most everyone’s asleep, Hope pushes herself to her feet and walks the length of the cut bank. She wends her way between sleeping bodies, careful not to nudge anyone awake.
She can see his outline against the fire, the flames’ flickering lights tousling his brownish-black hair. He’s keeping watch, his eyes staring intently at the black beyond their camp. With no greeting whatsoever, she plops herself down beside him.
“Why’d you do it?” she asks.
Book is startled to see her. “Do what?”
“Come back from the other side?”
Book’s eyebrows arch in surprise. “That was last summer. You’re asking about that now?”
“We were there—we reached the Heartland—and then you decided we needed to come back to save the others.”
“That’s right. Do you regret it?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Then . . . ?”
“I just want to know what you were thinking.”
He lets out a long breath. “I saw those families and how happy they were, and I figured that’d be us pretty soon. It just didn’t seem fair that that’s the life we were going to be leading while we had friends stuck back in camp. There wasn’t really any choice in the matter.”
“Sure there was a choice. You didn’t hear the rest of us suggesting we cross back over.”
“Maybe not then, but once reality set in, your conscience would’ve gotten the better of you. I know you.”
“You do, do you?”
“A little bit, yeah,” he says. “It was the right thing to do and you know it.”
The light from the fire dances on Book’s cheeks. Hope turns away.
“Why’re you asking me this?” he wonders.
“Just curious.”
“Maybe, but we haven’t spoken in days, so I bet there’s a reason.”
Hope feels her cheeks burning and is grateful for the dark. She angles her face away from him.
“So what is it?” he presses.
Hope is suddenly unable to speak. She has the sense of what she wants to say, but somewhere between her brain and her mouth, the words are getting stuck. It’s like there are too many and they’re all jumbled together and she couldn’t form a sentence if her life depended on it. If she attempted to talk, it’d just be gibberish.
“Are you gonna tell me?” Book prompts.
“It’s like I told you,” she says, then quickly rises. “I was curious. Good night.”
Before Book can stop her, Hope slips into darkness, pulling the hood tight around her face.
As her fingertips trace her scars, she vows she will do whatever it takes to finish off Dr. Gallingham and Chancellor Maddox—even if it means sacrificing her life in the process. After all, she thinks, it’s the right thing to do.