"Are we walking much farther?" Elle asks. I glance down at her, trudging along at my side, her bare feet sinking into damp soil. The red hue has washed out of her skin, along with all other color.

"I don't know," I answer.

"Oh." She presses her lips into a thin line.

I shoulder-check for signs that we might be being followed. Slender branches bounce where birds have taken flight, swaying treetops from the ever-present wind, but no crunching footfalls. We're following an animal trail. Dirt and old floppy leaves wind ahead and behind through the easiest patches of bramble. I face forward again, searching for...something, I don't know. We're lost, we've been lost since the moment we set foot outside the Compound. The threat of the military camp forces us to keep moving, but we have nowhere to go.

We stop for a breather. Elle kneels, taking advantage of the short break. The hood of the sweater slips off her head, and she squints at the sudden brightness. Her eyes are swollen and red from earlier.

"Piggyback?" I offer Elle. She glances up from the ground and shakes her head.

"I can walk," she says. "'Sides, your back is all messed up." I run the tips of my fingers over the fresh scar. Only the center, where the explosion hit worst, needs a bandage now.

"It doesn't hurt," I lie.

"Time to go," Sky announces, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He swivels his head left and right, searching the gaps between the trees for signs of the military. He hasn't calmed down since he came back from zoning out. I don't think he can. Suddenly he freezes, muscles tense.

"We have company," he says, pointing at a gap in the trees to the east. A cluster of domed helmets is bobbing through the trees. The faint murmur of conversation carries on the wind. The sun glints off the tip of a rifle, they must be soldiers. They could be looking for us. My breath catches as the soldiers freeze.

Sky reacts first. He takes off like a bullet, crashing through the underbrush towards the group of soldiers, too fast to be anything but a blur. The shiny rifle tips disappear into the bush. A second is all the time I'm given to grab Elle and drop to the forest floor before gunshots shatter the air. Elle screams, covering her ears and melting into the dead leaves. But there's no blood. There are screams but not blood, not anywhere from anyone. That won't last long, Sky is going to get himself shot.

"Go, run!" I urge, scooping Elle off the ground and shunting her to Delilah. "Go!"

Delilah's instincts are almost as quick as Sky's. It's only me passing Elle to her that keeps her from going after the soldiers. It's clear in her eyes that she wants nothing more than to fight, but I can't risk both of the last two people Maverick got out of the Compound in another gunfight. With Elle clinging to her and me already turning to go after Sky, she doesn't have a choice except to clench her teeth and bolt.

Gunfire splits the air again before I reach the soldiers, splinters spray from shattered tree trunks. I flinch after each one, expecting the hit, expecting Sky's ginger head to halt, anticipating the spray of blood instead of wood chips. By some miracle, only one person is on the forest floor by the time I reach the soldiers, and it isn't Sky.

The body on the ground is breathing, alive but not conscious, and not bleeding. Three soldiers are still standing; two men and a tall woman, all with long black guns pressed to the inside of their shoulders. The barrels of the guns sweep side to side as the soldiers try to aim at Sky. He crashes through the underbrush, old foliage crunching underfoot. It sounds more like a herd of fleeing deer than one slight man, and it drowns out the noise I make creeping towards them. With Sky's distraction, I manage to sneak up on the nearest soldier before any of them notice me.

I grab his head from behind, fingers scraping on the rough stubble on his chin. I squeeze just tight enough to keep him from squirming. The other soldiers are quick to train their guns at me. The woman barks out something in Russian, her finger tightening on the trigger.

"Don't!" I say, pressing the soldier's head, turning it towards me as if to break his neck. The other soldiers hesitate, and over the shoulder of the woman I spot Sky.

"Leave us alone," I say to the soldiers. I can only hope they speak English. "We won't hurt you if you let us go. We didn't do anything wrong."

The woman stares but there is no recognition on her face. She doesn't understand a word I'm saying, and her aim doesn't budge a single inch. The soldier worms in my grasp, glaring at me out of the corner of his eye.

"Leave us alone," I say again, slower. This time, the only response is a metallic click. I glance down in time to spot the silver handgun the soldier I'm holding draws. His finger is tight around the trigger as he whips the gun up. He makes it halfway before my reflexes kick in.

His head twists in my grasp, the bones in his neck snap with a hollow pop that makes my stomach flip. The light fades from his eyes, and he's dead before his gun hits the ground.

The woman reacts the quickest, her aim is steady despite her dead teammate dangling from my arms. I duck to hide my head behind the body, forcing myself to breathe through the nose while my heart rate skyrockets. I killed someone. My head spins, something that tastes like copper and electricity coats the inside of my mouth. I killed someone and there are armed soldiers trying to kill me, and I don't know if this dead body is a good enough shield to keep me safe.

Suddenly Sky is in the clearing, snatching something from the woman's hefty utility belt. His arm flashes in front of her and blood sprays from her side. She screams, swinging her gun to fire at Sky.

He skims past the last soldier as the woman squeezes the trigger. The crack of the bullet sets my ears ringing all over again, blood mists the air and Sky staggers to a halt. In front of him, the soldier collapses, a bullet in his neck.

One soldier left. My grip loosens around the neck of the dead man and with my moment's hesitation past, I throw him. The living soldier has her gun up and aimed at Sky. She squeezes the trigger the same moment the body crashes into her. There's a shot and a gasp in quick succession, then the soldier hits the ground hard, her gun goes flying and the body pins her down.

I scramble over to the pinned soldier. She writhes under the weight of her teammate, snarling vicious words at me. A solid kick to the head is all it takes to knock her out. Good thing too, I'm starting to shake and it's not from pain.

"Watch out!" Sky shouts, the click of a gun reaches my ears a second too late. It's followed at once by a wet squish and a garbled yelp that can only mean one thing. I turn to see the soldier who was lying on the ground unconscious earlier is on his knees. His gun is still half-raised and pointed at me, but his grey eyes are so unfocused that his pupils are two different sizes.

Sky stands in front of the soldier, his sweater and pants are soaked and the pommel of the blade he grips is glistening red. He looks from the soldier to the knife, disgust curling his lip. There's something eerie about the way he's holding himself, as if he's forgotten to breathe. Except I can hear him breathing, loud and shaky over the rustling leaves.

"Are you hurt?" I ask, making my way over to him. He jumps at the sudden noise, and I regret speaking. He whips around to stare at me, flecks of blood mingle with his freckles and under all the dirt smudges, his face is pale.

"A graze," Sky says at last. He looks down as if to find the injury, and catches sight of all the blood coating his clothes. Horrified, he presses the back of his hand to his mouth, muffling a sharp groan.

"It washes out," I say, repeating the same words Mav said to me the first time I came out of the dome unsure of whether the other person had survived. It's the only thing I can think of. This is a Maverick kind of situation, it's not something I know how to fix. Sky lifts his gaze to me, uncertain. "It washes out," I say again, putting my arm around his shoulder. He leans into the touch, ducking his chin to look at the blood again.

There's a moment where he wavers, something dark flickering behind his eyes. "We're messed up," he sighs, resting his forehead in his palm, the darkness winning out.

"You're okay." I rub his back. He pushes his fingers through his windblown hair and heaves a shuddery breath.

"Of course," he says, trying on a smile that wobbles despite his efforts. When he breaks away, he shakes himself out like a wet dog and clears his throat. "We should take their backpacks, they'll have stuff we can use."

"Good idea," I say. Sky nods but doesn't turn around. The knife in his grasp spins and he gnaws his lip nervously. "Why don't you go and find where Delilah and Elle went, I'll grab the packs."

Relief is plain across his face as he agrees. He darts off before I can say another word, and then it's just me and four bodies in the wilderness.

Only two of the soldiers have backpacks and I pick through them, sorting out what could help us most. There are food packs, medical kits, two knives, two blankets that crinkle when I touch them, and some other things. I leave behind one of the blankets and anything like flares or bullets that we won't use. Everything else gets crammed into one backpack. By the time I finish packing it all up, the unconscious soldier is stirring. I stand, hefting the backpack, and as a precaution I go around and bend the muzzles of all the rifles. No use taking chances. On my way out of the clearing I wrestle the olive drab jacket off the soldier with the broken neck. It's the cleanest one.

With the backpack snug on my shoulders, I head the direction Sky went. When I've gone far enough that I can't look in any direction and tell where the soldiers were, Sky shows up by my side.

"We're not far. We found the cave we stayed in before and holed up there," he says, his cheeks and eyes are red.

"Here," I toss him the jacket. He catches it with ease and slips it on. Zipped-up, it hides his bloodied shirt well. There's nothing to do about the spray of blood down his pantlegs, but this is a little better at least. He rolls his shoulders and tugs on the sleeves.

"Thank you," he says quietly, smoothing the front of the jacket. "This helps."

"Yeah, no problem," I reply. "Are we really so close to the cave?" I scan the surrounding area and find that some of the terrain does look familiar. That doesn't necessarily mean we're in the right place. I was delirious with fever the last time I was at the cave.

"We travelled a lot faster going downhill than we did going uphill," Sky explains. "Plus, nobody had to drag you." He shoots me a wink to show he's teasing.

"Ha, funny," I snort, ignoring the creeping sense of guilt in the pit of my stomach.

Sky leads the way, walking at a normal pace for once. He shoves his hands in his pockets, the sleeves of the jacket bunch up around his wrists. True to his word, it isn't long before we're rounding the last boulder to the mouth of the cave.

Weak smoke leaks out of the entrance, the source is a decrepitly small fire farther in. Delilah crouches by the fire, feeding it scraps of grass and funneling the smoke away. Elle sits beside her, legs folded to her chest and elbows on her knees, shivering. When she spots us, she jumps to her feet, a smile spreading over her face. She sways dangerously for a moment, but the spell passes, and she runs the short span of the cave to crash into me.

"You're back!" She throws her arms around my waist while I drop the backpack. "I was worried."

"Me too, hermanita, es bueno now," I say, rubbing her back. I can't help but notice that she's shivering and sweating at the same time, obviously symptoms of withdrawal.

"Oh," she huffs, pushing away, hands flying to her face. Blood leaks between her fingers from her nose.

"Did you bump your nose?" I ask. She shakes her head, sending drops of blood flying. With nothing else to wipe the blood away, I pinch her nose with my bare hands and tip her head forward. Warm drops splash on my palm in time with the crackle of the fire. We're used to her getting nosebleeds, it happens a lot, but two in the same day seems excessive.

"If you start to feel dizzy sit down, okay?" I say, eyeing the puddle forming on the floor.

"M'bueno," Elle says around her pinched nose.

"What's that mean?" Sky asks. I glance over to see him watching us, his fingers are snapping out an unsteady rhythm, the real source of the crackling that I thought was the fire. "Bueno, I mean, you say it a lot to each other,"

"It means 'good' or, um," Elle hesitates, her voice is garbled but steady. "'Okay,' like estas bien, is 'you're okay.'"

"What language is it?" Sky asks, rocking forward on his toes. The trickle of blood from Elle is slowing, she should be okay in a few more minutes.

"Español," Elle answers.

"Espanol," Sky repeats, murdering the accent. Elle corrects him.

"Ñol."

"Nee-ol." He props his chin on the back of his hand. She takes her hand away from her nose to flap it at him, it looks like her nosebleed has stopped at last, and Delilah tears her stare away from the flames in time to see me scrubbing the trails off Elle's face with the corner of her sweater.

"You two." Delilah points to Sky and me with a smoking twig. "Go get me something to feed this fire, and Elle, you come back over here and sit," she instructs.

Elle obeys right away, with the way she's shivering, I'm not surprised. She folds up like a pretzel, as close to the fire as she can get without toasting herself. Holding her palms out to warm them, the pattern of the flames flickers up her skin, making it look like her arms are burning.

"That's cool," Sky says. Elle beams at him, the flame pattern engulfing her neck and licking at the edges of her face. I smile a little. It's nice to see her in better spirits after this morning.

We make our way outside to gather kindling. The air is sharp but not bitter cold like it was a few days ago, the sun shines brighter too. Maybe not warmer, but definitely brighter.

"Did you have any siblings?" I ask Sky as I pick a nearby pine tree and begin to scrape the flaky bark off it. There were lots of siblings at the Compound. Cousins too. I think most of them were sold into it, like Elle and me.

"Nah, I was an only child. I always wanted a little brother though." He picks dead twigs from the barren ground. There's some stringy green stuff hanging off the branches of the pine. They're dry to the touch, I take a handful and add it to my clump of bark.

"What about you, Delilah?" I call, catching her attention. She's beside the backpack now, picking through the supplies. Elle tends to the fire, poking at it with a half-burned twig and puffing on it occasionally.

"Hm?"

"Any siblings?"

She pauses with a shiny package in either hand. Her brow crinkles above her nose as she tries to remember.

"Yeah, an older sister. She lived in Nizhny Tagil, I wonder if she's still there." She digs out a pot from deeper in the pack. Her forehead is still crinkled, like she isn't sure of her answer.

"I bet we could find her," Sky says brightly. "All we have to do is make it back to civilization and from there it's a tip of your hat and off you are to the rest of the world."

I take the bark and add a few small branches to the mix. We return to the cave to surrender all the kindling and fuel to Delilah. Sky snaps his fingers almost silently the moment he's free of the bundle of twigs. Elle scooches out of the way, choosing to curl up beside a ripple in the cave wall. She rests her head against the rock and watches Delilah feed the shrinking fire. It takes a couple tries, but she catches a flame on a curl of dry bark, and from there it's a matter of time before the fire roars to life. Heat and light wash over us, carrying the scent of smoke.

Certain that the fire is happy and healthy, unlike any of us, I grab the bag in search of the food packs. At the sight of the green-brown packaging, Sky's stomach grumbles loud and clear.

"Hungry?" Delilah teases.

"Cook the food already." He snatches the package from me and starts prying it open. He fumbles with the tabs but eventually manages to tear it open and dump it on the ground. Plastic-wrapped crackers and spoons scatter on the stone, heralded by the clunk of metal tins. "Is this the same as the stuff before?" he asks, even as he's ripping into one of the tins. Red sauce drips on his fingers. "Guess so."

"Hey look, it's almost as bright as your hair," Delilah smirks. Sky rolls his eyes.

"Wow, so original," he says, squeezing the last bit of sauce from the second package into the pot. "What's next, we gonna call Trick 'four-eyes' and drop a spider down your shirt?"

"I am not afraid of spiders," Delilah declares, but she narrows her eyes at Sky nonetheless.

"You were," Sky says to the floor, eyebrows up like he doesn't believe her.

"And then I found out there were worse things than creepy eight-legged bugs," she retorts.

"Like the soldiers," Elle says, her voice barely carrying over the crackle of the fire. I glance at her, biting the inside of my cheek.

"They won't get you again," I promise, forcing myself not to clench my fists and instead gather the crackers. I can only imagine what they might have done to her in that camp, how afraid she must have been. I'll never let that happen again, I should never have let it happen in the first place. "You're safe."

She nods absently, her hair falling over her face in a curtain. I lay the crackers at her feet for her to take when she's ready.

"I've been thinking." Delilah prods at the fire, feeding it a whisper of air. The tongues of flame waver under her care. Sky taps a spoon against the rim of his tin.

"Well, don't keep us waiting," he urges. All eyes train on Delilah as she sits back and tucks her hair behind her ears.

"Is it safe for us to go back home?" she poses the question, and silence creeps up after it. Sky presses his lips into a thin line. The normally smooth skin over his blue eyes crumples like a wad of used paper, and he stares hard at the fire. I, for my part, can't help but look over at Elle's resting form. Russia is a long way from the island, even if it weren't, would I... could I take Elle back there? Her skin shifts in time with her breathing, taking on the texture of the fabric in patches along her face, and the color of stone across her spindly fingers. My parents will never have their son back, that's for certain, but do they deserve another chance with their daughter?

Nobody can come up with an answer to Delilah's question. A small paper packet rests outside the ring of firelight. I pick it up and turn it over while I'm thinking. It's not until I poke it and feel a hard lump that I realize it's not a napkin.

"What's this?" I pass it to Delilah. She holds it up to the light, squints at the writing, shakes it a bit.

"Multivitamin." She passes it back, eyeing Elle as she does.

"Hendrix." A low groan snaps my attention to the corner where Elle was resting. She's sitting up, her hair is a limp halo around her hollow cheeks, her head is clenched in her clawed fingers. I'm by her side in a moment. "My head hurts," she whispers, as if talking makes the pain worse. I kneel next to her and scoop her into my lap. Her head rests on my chest, and I rub her left temple. Headaches already. I bite my tongue and press the back of my hand to her forehead. She's burning up, even hotter than before, sweat all but pouring off her head.

"I'm going to throw up," she mumbles, moving only her lips.

"Let's go outside."

She nods microscopically and unfolds her legs. I help her to her feet and bend to wrap my arms under her shoulders, she leans all her weight on me, but she's so light it's like supporting a feather. Elle bows her head so her hair hides her face when we pass the others, I squeeze her shoulder gently, it's the most reassurance I can offer. Neither Delilah nor Sky look up from what they're doing, they carry on a hushed conversation until we're past.

We make it a half-step to the left of the entrance before Elle starts heaving. I hold her hair back while she clutches her stomach. A pained expression scrunches her face. She doesn't lean over quite far enough the first time and the top of her sweater gets soaked. Red so dark it's almost black splatters the rocks. The stench of decaying blood fills the air and makes her gag again.

She's puking up blood. That isn't part of withdrawal. Cold fear runs down my spine, sending goosebumps across my skin. The moment she stops heaving I'm on my knees, pulling up her shirt to look at her stomach. There's no bruising anywhere on her torso, no puncture wounds, and no swelling.

"Does it hurt when I press on your belly?" I ask, pressing right below her ribs to feel for anything I might have missed.

"No."

I let her shirt fall back into place, rocking to my feet. She wipes her mouth on her sleeve and looks at the mess on the front of her sweater.

"Sorry," she croaks, meaning the sweater. In the fading light she looks washed out, purple splotches circle her bloodshot eyes like bruises.

"It's fine," I assure her. "Let's get that off you." I tug the slimy sweater off her and discard it. It's useless now. With only a thin shirt acting as a barrier between her skin and the chilly wind, she shivers. I guide her back inside where it's warmer. She walks a few steps on her own and plunks down by the fire.

"Here, we ate." Delilah holds the half-empty tin of soupy cabbage-meat-mix out to me. I take it gratefully and offer a spoonful to Elle.

"No thanks." She hugs her knees closer to her chest, shivering. She squints at the fire, the light must make her headache worse.

"You should eat a little," I say.

"I can't," she says, turning her face away from the heat of the fire and closing her eyes. "My stomach still hurts."

Even this close to the fire she's trembling. I rub her arms, running through her symptoms in my mind. She's got the shakes and a fever, headache, stomach cramps, and with nothing substantial in her stomach, I don't know if I can give her any more Tylenol. Can I? Should I try to let her sleep it off? What if it can't be slept off, what if it gets worse? For a fleeting, horrible moment I wish we were back at the Compound. At least the Whitecoats could give her the right thing to stop her pain. I don't even really know what's wrong.

"Here, you look cold," Delilah interrupts my train of thought. She offers a grey hoodie to Elle. The tank top she escaped in hangs looser than it did a week ago. Her shoulders are thinner, but still squared. Elle eases into the sweater, thanking Delilah for it.

"Just returning a favor," Delilah replies. It's the same sweater I gave her the last time we were in this cave. Our eyes meet across the fire, and I know we're both thinking the same thing; last time we were here, there were a lot more of us.

Elle leans her head on my shoulder. "Dígame un historia?"

"What's that mean?" Sky asks.

"Tell me a story," Elle whispers, tilting her chin to face him.

"Trick tells stories?"

She nods, completely serious. A glint appears in Sky's eyes that I don't particularly like.

"It helps me feel better. Want to hear one?"

"Absolutely." The mischievous glint spreads to the rest of his face. I bite my tongue only because Elle sits up a little straighter, and the crease between her eyes gets a little shallower.

"Which one? The fairy one? The tree one?"

"The Compound tree one?" he asks, looking to me. "Mav said all of the older Experiments did."

I shift uncomfortably, reaching to let my fingers skim the edge of the burn scar. Sky's right, I know the story. An Enhanced told it to me and Maverick when I first arrived, back when the story circulated regularly. Then the guards started punishing anyone who told it, and the Enhanced vanished under uncertain circumstances. I nod once, to confirm Sky's suspicions, and hope he doesn't press for more.

A moment passes, then a weak smile crosses Delilah's face. "I was married under that tree," she says.

The tree in question was a towering pine on the far side of the crumbling basketball court, beside the fence. The 'coats hated it, the rest of us saw it as a sign of hope. It stayed longer than any of us, which was a feat in itself considering some of the chemicals they dumped on the poor thing. But the real reason we loved the pine was the legend of who put it there.

"Can you tell us?" It's Delilah who asks.

The room is slowly getting hotter, there's a tightness in my chest, sprung by all this discussion of the pine tree's secret legend. I fiddle with my glasses to buy more time.

"I don't think that's a good idea." All I can think about is the Whitecoats, waiting for me to mess up, wanting me to tell a forbidden story so they get the chance to toy with Elle. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle in anticipation. I know it's all in my head, but old habits die hard. I scratch the edge of the burn until it stings.

"I could tell you," Elle chimes in. "I know all about the pine, Drix and Maverick told the story to me." She grins up at me, proud of the fact that she knows the story and unmarred by the awful deaths the Experiments suffered. We should never have told her, but we were less careful back then.

"Okay, go ahead." Sky folds himself beside the fire. He rests his chin in his palm, a look of interest on his face. Delilah leans back on the cave wall, wearing a similar expression. Elle rubs her hands together deviously and takes a dramatic breath. She links her fingers and holds her hands up as a projector screen. The silhouette of a pine tree appears over her knuckles.

"Once," she announces. "There was a girl. She was brought into the Compound years and years ago, and she loved to cause trouble. She was una fierabrás." She pauses, fishing for the right English word. Her eyes are bloodshot. I roll her word around in my head for a moment for the right translation.

"Spitfire?" I say.

"A spitfire. She didn't listen to anybody, not even the 'coats. She didn't just cause trouble, she breathed it. So when the Whitecoats enhanced her, they made her florokinetic." She puffs her chest and scrunches her face when she mimics the Whitecoats, her hair turns white and her skin greys.

"I've never heard of 'florokinetic'," Sky interrupts.

"Never?" Elle's brow crumples.

"They only ever made one," I explain. Lei Kikira was the Compound's first and last Experiment given the ability to control plant life. She was gone long before any Experiment still alive showed up. She caused more damage than she was worth to the Whitecoats; Elle only knows the tame version of the story.

Elle continues with a curt nod. "The girl was miserable for months, she couldn't control her power very well, but she practiced. She grew grass during breaks and stuff, kept it real secret so everybody thought she was still useless. Then one day, she snuck over to the basketball court and found a sproutling near the fence. Witnesses say all she had to do was touch the sproutling and poof!" Elle jumps abruptly, hands thrust into the air. I lurch to keep her steady. The sweater sleeves flop to her shoulders and pattern of pine green complete with interwoven dapples of light and chipped bark climbs up her extended arms, giving them the appearance of pine boughs.

"She climbed over the fence on a branch and ran off, never to be seen again."

With the story finished, Elle heaves a huge exhale and returns to her place cuddled in my arms.

"Good story," Delilah says, "do you feel better?"

"Sí." A smile brightens Elle's tired face, and, exhausted, she lets her eyes close.

Delilah stretches her arms above her head, yawning. Her back pops all the way up to her neck. "Ow," she mutters, rubbing the back of her neck. "Damn, I feel old."

"You are old," Sky teases. Delilah scowls at him.

"Go fetch more firewood for your elders, young man," she says.

"But—"

"Go!"

While Sky slinks out to collect more wood for the fire, I slip Elle off my lap. In the span of time between her finished story and now, she's fallen fast asleep. Good, she needs it.

I crouch by the dying fire to feed our remaining bark and twigs into the embers to get the fire blazing again. The coals crackle and hiss at the slightest touch. Most are buried under a thin layer of powdery white ash. Delilah flicks her fingers to help coax the embers back to life. The small flames come reluctantly and sputter. When at last the fire crackles happily, I plunk back and make a face at it.

A quiet creeps over the land, ushered in by the end of the story and the setting of the sun. Sky returns with an armful of sticks. He feeds them to the fire while he hums something melodious. We drink all but the last of the water we took from the stream yesterday and eat our fill of the little packaged meals. Outside, the shift from evening to night is coming to an end.

"Delilah, can you pass me the Tylenol?" I point to the bag. A warning ache is worming at my hips. Forget feeling old, my joints creak like actual grandma bones.

"Already?" She looks dubious, but she fishes the bottle from the side pocket anyways. She lobs the bottle, and I catch it with my free hand. It rattles louder than it did earlier. I brace it against my thigh to get past the child lock without shattering the plastic and pick out two red pills. One sticks on the way down but doesn't stay. The threat of pain almost has me reaching for more, and I have to remind myself to ration the pills. Who knows when I'll be able to get more, who knows if Delilah or Sky will need some, I can't go eight a day like I did at the Compound.

I set the Tylenol to the side and check on Elle. She's fast asleep. Gently, I lay her down in my lap, so she won't wake up with a weird crick in her neck.

Sky stops humming, and I look over to see him watching me.

"What?" I ask, perhaps a little defensively, remembering his earlier reaction to the Tylenol. He shrugs.

"You're different around her," he says.

"A good different," Delilah adds. She leans back against the cave wall, her hair is gathered on one side and her fingers work to braid it into a single rope. The cut over her eye is healing well.

"Oh," is all I say. What else am I supposed to respond with? I push my glasses up my face and stare at the fire. Outside, a night bird sings. I listen to it, the thoughts swirling in my head all boiling down to one thing;

What's next?