THEY RIDE ALL DAY, the miles disappearing beneath the horses’ hooves. The landscape slowly alters before their eyes, and in the foothills, the first desert flowers bloom, perfuming the air with sweetness.
Hope barely notices. She is still reliving her night with Book. It feels as though there’s a mark on every part of her skin where he touched her. Beautiful tattoos.
They set up camp, and Hope wonders what it is with words, why they’re so difficult to say—the ones that really matter, anyway. Why couldn’t she tell Book what she wanted to tell him? Why couldn’t she express her real feelings?
Why didn’t she convince him to come with her?
Stars explode in the sky as though someone flipped a switch, and the only sounds in camp are murmured conversations, the nickering of horses, the quiet crackle of fires.
Hope knows that sleep isn’t possible, and so she rises from her bed and edges away from camp. Solitude tugs at her.
She doesn’t know what life was like in pre-Omega days, but as she takes in this enormous wilderness all around her—scent of sage and woodsmoke, final bird cries of the evening, a distant coyote nipping at the air—she vows to help protect it. To live in a world worth living, for everyone.
Without knowing why, she strains a hand upward and tries to touch the stars.
“Live today,” she says aloud.
There’s no one there to complete the thought.