Fennikk finished her food first. By the time the rest of us had finished, she lay down on the ground in front of the rock, one arm tucked under her head and the other draped across her middle. She snored softly, and a trail of drool trickled from her mouth to her arm.

While Rekkan repacked his bag, he cast several glances at Fennikk. "We can't sleep here," he told Nikkla. "Will she be able to walk?"

Nikkla jostled Fennikk's shoulder. "Fennikk, wake up."

Fennikk continued snoring.

"Fennikk, baby, can you get up? We have to keep moving."

Fennikk groaned and rolled onto her back without opening her eyes.

Nikkla sighed. "I've pushed her too hard." She grabbed Fennikk's armpits, pulling her up to cradle the child against her chest. "Alright. We're ready."

I frowned at her. I had a feeling however hard she had pushed Fennikk, she had pushed herself even harder. Briefly, I considered offering to carry the girl for her—but I feared Rekkan was already nearing his limit. Our rule was to stay away from people, and he was making a big compromise by allowing them to join us at all.

"You really think you can carry her?" I asked.

Dark lines creased the space below her eyes, but she jutted her chin in determination. "You really think this is the first time?"

Rekkan studied Nikkla and Fennikk, lips twisted to the side. Then he shouldered his bag and started walking.

After a half hour, the woods opened back up to a stretch of highway. Cracked pavement weaved through white fields, occasionally disappearing in the snow like a snake obscured by grass. Nikkla never once complained, but her walking grew slower. Rekkan cast glances over his shoulder, scowling.

When she fell too far behind, I slowed down, and in response, Rekkan slowed too. He drifted closer to my side, and I expected him to tell me that we needed to leave the mother and daughter behind. Instead, he only said, "Let me know if you see anywhere we can sleep. We need a small building set on its own with all exterior walls intact."

I scanned the horizon, but only an occasional tree interrupted the neverending line where white met blue. "What if we don't find anything for miles?"

"Then we keep walking."

I bit my lip. "Nikkla is getting tired..."

"Nikkla is not my priority."

Irritation overrode my previous resolve not to push him too far. "Come on, Rekkan. You really don't care about them at all? That kid worships you."

His jaw tensed. "She is extremely misguided."

"Apparently."

Rekkan started to respond, but then his gaze flitted back behind us, and he halted in his tracks. I turned back to see what had stopped him. Nikkla sat on the pavement, holding her still-sleeping daughter on her lap. Her arms were trembling.

My heart squeezed. I will never stop until I have secured the future you deserve, my mother had written. But Nikkla didn't need to write a dedication in a book; her dedication was visible in her lined eyes and her trembling arms.

I took a few steps back toward her. "Nikkla, are you alright?"

"We're fine," she called back. "Just resting for a few minutes. You go on ahead."

My tongue twisted around an offer to help—an offer I knew would start an argument with Rekkan. But we couldn't just leave them here like this. They were more exposed and vulnerable here than they had been in the woods when they found us. Surely we could at least—

"I'll carry her," said Rekkan.

I blinked at him, but he refused to look at me. When I glanced at Nikkla, hope lit her features, but then she clutched Fennikk tighter and narrowed her eyes.

"Why would you offer that?" she asked slowly.

He pursed his lips. "It's not safe to rest here. But if you prefer to take your chances with the Infected, suit yourself."

She drew herself to her feet, and with a grunt of effort, pulled Fennikk back up into her arms. Rekkan paced toward her with even strides, but he hesitated before touching the sleeping child.

"Uh... so, how do I..."

Nikkla pushed Fennikk into his arms. He caught her with wide eyes, clamping her to his chest like an awkwardly-shaped sack of potatoes.

Nikkla planted her hands on her hips, breathing hard. "If you hurt her," she warned him, "I will kill you."

It was a laughable threat coming from a small weaponless woman who was wavering from exhaustion, but Rekkan just nodded. "I won't."

We continued on our way. Rekkan and I walked ahead, and Nikkla trailed close behind. Rekkan refused to shift his hold on the girl and eyed her frequently, brow pinched.

"I can carry her for a while," I offered.

He shook his head. "I got it."

Another minute passed in silence before I made another attempt to assuage his clear discomfort. "You know, you can move your hands a little bit. That won't hurt her."

But my words fell on deaf ears. Rekkan was watching Fennikk, who now wriggled a little in his arms, eyes still closed. "Zaf, what do I do?" he whispered. "Should I tell Nikkla?"

"Tell her what?"

"The kid is moving."

"Kids move sometimes, you know. It's fine."

"But how can you be sure it's fine?"

Fennikk gave a little yawn, and then her head slipped onto Rekkan's shoulder and her arm wrapped around his other shoulder. He stared at her, unblinking, breath trapped in his chest.

"Hey, relax," I said, biting back a laugh. "Clearly, you're a natural."

He scowled at me. "We're not adopting a kid, Zaf."

I liked the sound of that 'we' very much, especially when Rekkan was walking beside me with a child in his arms. It wasn't so much that he didn't care, I realized, as that he was terrified of caring. He was fighting so hard to keep his heart locked up... and little by little, he was losing the battle.

Under my breath, I whispered, "We'll see."

After another half hour of walking, we finally found a Rekkan-approved place to spend the night: a gas station. A snow drift covered a third of the door to the store, and the windows were cracked, but the structure held firm. Letters that would have once lit up neon hung crooked across the front of the convenience store, declaring it Pikkel's Petrol.

Rekkan passed Fennikk to Nikkla with visible relief. "I'll go in first," he said. "Zaf, you keep watch out here while I'm gone."

Rekkan kicked the snow away from the door and pried it open. A little bell tinked inside, tinny and distorted, a relic from a time when humanity worried about such trivial things as unattended customers. Through the window, I watched Rekkan prowl down a stripped aisle, rifle raised. Then I forced myself to scan the area around us.

Nikkla and Fennikk huddled against a wall, Fennikk rubbing sleep from her eyes. In front of us, the hoses had been ripped from gas pumps, and ice fossilized the trash scattered around a blue dumpster. White snowflakes fluttered down to dust the garbage, caught in a breeze... but why did I not feel the breeze?

The dumpster rattled.

I yanked out my switchblade and flicked it open. "Watch out," I hissed at Nikkla and Fennikk.

The dumpster lid popped open, dusting the ice-crusted trash in a flurry of white and wafting a rotten stench. A woman shot up ram-rod straight in the center of the dumpster, sporting a pin-striped shirt, lopsided pigtails, and a three-toothed grin.

I flashed a desperate glance at the store behind us, but Rekkan had not returned. The knife trembled in my hand. "Stay back," I warned the woman.

"Welcome to Pikkel's Petrol," she replied, her grin splitting her face like a canyon. "Let me know if I can assist you!"

She flung herself at the side of the dumpster, which wobbled precariously.

"Shit, I'm f—" I darted a glance at Fennikk. "Fine! Everything is fine!" Then I rapped on the wall nearest me. "Rekkan!"

The dumpster tipped, a crash muffled by snow. For a moment, the woman disappeared under a pile of trash bags. Then a mottled foot emerged, followed by frostbitten arms and a maggot-filled grin.

The door behind me burst open, and boots stomped the snow.

"Welcome to Pikkel's Petrol," she told the newcomer. "Let me know if—"

The shot of the rifle burst through my eardrums, bringing tears to my eyes. The woman's head exploded, and she flopped to the ground as her brains slopped out to sizzle in the snow.

As Rekkan lowered his rifle, he licked his lips and shifted uncomfortably, darting a glance at Nikkla and Fennikk. They stood frozen, mouths agape. 

"Well, no Infected in the store," he said, his voice muddled by my ringing ears.

Fennikk pulled away from Nikkla. "That was..." Her gaze traveled from the exploded brains to Rekkan's rifle, and her eyes lit up. "Awesome!"

Rekkan blinked.

Nikkla turned away from the sight, looking a little ill. "Come, Fennikk," she said, grabbing her daughter's arm. "Let's get inside."

Nikkla scoured the store to confirm Rekkan's assessment of safety. Meanwhile, Rekkan and I pushed the heaviest shelves over to cover the windows and door. Fennikk sat on the counter and watched us. The moment we finished, she hopped down and skipped over to Rekkan.

"Mister Rekkan, can I hold your gun?"

He huffed a disbelieving laugh. "Nope."

"Can I touch it?"

"Nope."

"Well, can I... look at it?"

"Uh..." He scratched the back of his neck and darted a glance at me. When I just shrugged, he sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

In stilted, choppy phrases, he explained to Fennikk how the rifle worked. I didn't understand half of what he was saying, and I was sure Fennikk understood even less, but she nodded and tilted her head periodically as if it was all quite fascinating.

A quiet snicker brought my attention to Nikkla, who watched the pair from just over my shoulder. I decided to take advantage of Fennikk's distraction to find out more from her mother.

"Nikkla, there's something I've been wondering," I said. "If you are so sure Etherland is safe, why didn't you bring Fennikk there years ago when the Infected first crossed the mountains into the North?"

She worried her lip, still watching Fennikk. "I have a brother who lives there. Or, lived there, at least. He used to work for the Noble Forces. I wrote to him just after the Infected came North to ask if we could stay with him. He said his house was not ready for visitors—that it was even messier than mine, and that his food had all fermented."

A chill trailed down my spine. "Was that the exact word he used? Fermented?"

She thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I'm sure of it. I read that letter many times because it felt... off. I wrote back asking what he meant." Her expression clouded. "But I never heard from him again."

I released a breath through my teeth. Almost every survivor I had talked to still clung to the dream of Etherland, but no one had heard from anyone who lived there in years. Even Ether will fall in the Third Phase.

"Then why are you traveling to Etherland now?" I whispered.

"Because every week, Fennikk has more close scrapes with death than the week before, and it's only a matter of time until..." Her voice choked off, and she swallowed. "I've watched too many friends get torn apart by Infected, and I can't imagine whatever is happening in Etherland can be as brutal as that."

My throat closed up as images flitted past my mind: my mother's lurching stride, the tear of teeth through flesh, the fountain of blood, my father's scream. I hadn't even liked my father, and the memory still haunted me. To see that happen to someone I loved as much as Nikkla loved Fennikk...

"I understand," I said.