Lily grinned. “Don’t let Caleb hear you say that.”
“Right?” Tristan said, smiling back at her. “The Outlanders hate the Woven on, like, an irrational level.”
“Irrational—unless you’ve grown up watching them kill people you love, I guess,” Lily added quietly.
“Maybe it’s a good thing we didn’t grow up here,” he said, struck by an idea. “Maybe it’s time someone with fresh eyes looked at the Woven problem. Studied their behavior.”
Lily crossed her arms and leaned back. “Like a science experiment.”
“Why not? Someone should be studying them instead of just killing and burning them,” Tristan said, leaning back against the tree like Lily. “They’re treated like vampires that’ll rise from the dead if you don’t utterly destroy them. It’s bananas.”
“You’re right. We need to start thinking about them scientifically, not superstitiously,” Lily decided. “We shouldn’t be slaughtering every one we see. It’s a waste of energy, anyway. I’m going to tell everyone to only fight the Woven that attack us, and the next time anyone kills one, I’ll have the carcass brought to us so we can study it.”
Tristan sat back up. “Are we finally getting you to dissect?” he teased. “I thought your vegan sensibilities were too refined for that.”
“I was not going to dissect a cat, Tristan,” Lily huffed, angry that he’d bring up a debate she’d had with her physiology teacher nearly two years ago. “And by the way, I did just as well as you on that anatomy exam without dissecting. So there. And this is different, anyway. These are Woven, not cats.”
“Mr. Carn would freaking love this,” Tristan said, still chuckling to himself as he leaned back against Lily’s shoulder.
“It’s good to have you on my side,” Lily said, thinking about Rowan and how he’d fought her on every question she’d posed about the Woven.
“I’m always on your side,” Tristan said as if it were obvious.
And it was. He’d always stuck up for her, always defended her. He was here when she was taking the biggest risk in her life by dragging a bunch of people across a continent to follow a hunch. Rowan wasn’t.
“Well, thanks,” Lily said, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Tristan smiled to himself, staring at the trees. He didn’t need to answer her.
*
They reached the trail through the Appalachians with five fewer braves than they’d started with. One had been picked off in the night by the Woven, and the other four had turned back. Lily wasn’t angry. Climbing the mountains wasn’t going to be easy with a large group; and the fewer she had to fuel, the easier it would be on her. As it was, Lily found it hard to resist any of their faint whispers for strength. She wanted to fuel them, maybe a little too much, but it was still energy spent. Her tribe was making great time because of Lily’s strength, but it left her tired all the time. Just looking up at the mountains they had yet to cross was enough to make her want to cry.
She felt Tristan come up behind her as she stared at the looming peaks, which were turning from a golden pink to lavender as dusk descended.
“‘Purple mountain majesties,’” she mumbled, finally understanding the true meaning of that line from “America the Beautiful.”
“They do look a bit purple,” Tristan answered. “And you don’t have to carry us up them, you know.”