I shouldn’t have felt relief, but I did. Every dweller homed in on that cry. Even if we weren’t so quiet, that scream was a beacon above everything else.
I relieved Luna of our supply bag when I realized she was carrying it, and we continued, moving swiftly, striding at a hard pace as the cries faded in the distance. I glanced at her several times, processing what she had done. Screaming like that had been bold and stupid and brilliant.
She had saved my life.
“Thank you,” I said, still holding her hand as I led her through the woods, unwilling to let go just yet. I adjusted my grip on her slim, cool fingers.
“You’re welcome,” she replied.
“I suppose you’re going to be insufferable now.”
“Why? Because I saved your life—twice now—and proved I’m not such a complete burden?”
“I never said you were a burden.” Precisely.
“No. You just didn’t want to bring me with you.”
“That’s because I work better alone.” At that reminder, I released her hand.
“Except for tonight.”
I sighed, closing my eyes in a hard blink, still seeing that ax descending toward me. She was right.
Tonight I needed her.
SEVENTEEN
Luna
FOWLER HANDED ME a piece of bread, his fingers grazing mine. I snatched my hand back, bringing the coarse-crusted bread to my mouth and tearing off a bite, comforted at once. The salty burst of flavor tasted of home, and a pang punched me in the chest.
For so long I had yearned to be free of walls. It wasn’t supposed to be this ugly out here. People weren’t supposed to be so horrible.
The back of my throat burned, and I gulped, trying to chase away the sensation. Perla had known. I swallowed back a bitter laugh. She had always known. She understood what we had and what I would be giving up.
Frustration bubbled up in me, mingling with the bitter twist of other emotions. “I just wish—” I stopped. He didn’t care.
“What?” His voice rang out impatiently, almost like he resented asking me.
“I wish I had appreciated what I had,” I snapped.
The gift of all those years with Sivo and Perla, when I had lived relatively safely, when I had been surrounded by love, brought fresh tears to my eyes.
“Life is full of regrets. They’ll cripple you if you let them.”
I laughed hoarsely. “It’s that easy for you? You can simply will all your regrets away?”
As usual, he didn’t reply.
“Tell me something, Fowler,” I added. “Are you not crippled?” Wasn’t being numb, an empty shell, a punishment in itself?
“We aren’t talking about me.”
“No. We never do that.”
Sniffing, I blinked against the sudden sting in my eyes, taking another bite of bread and chewing faster, as if that would somehow stave off the regrets.
So far my adventures had revealed only the ugliness of life.
Except that moment with Fowler.
The brief press of his face to mine when I had thought he might kiss me had been unexpected and wonderful. Even if he didn’t know why he had done it, he had. I had that.
“It’s the last of Perla’s bread,” he said, his tone clearly suggesting I slow down stuffing my face.
Cheeks burning, I covered my mouth with my fingers and slowed my chewing, trying to savor this last small bit of Perla.
He shifted, his boot scuffing against the ground. I inhaled, catching a whiff of his spicy scent. I’d never smelled anything like him before and I didn’t think it was due to my lack of exposure to others. It was inherently him.
I exhaled through my nose, enjoying the flavor of the dark, hearty bread on my tongue. “I’m going to miss it,” I murmured, turning the bread over in my fingers. “I could never make bread quite like her. Even when we reach Allu, I doubt I shall be able to replicate it.”
I waited, hoping he would say something. A few words about the better future that waited me in Allu. But nothing. Silence. He offered nothing that revealed he even thought I would reach Allu with him, which only seemed to confirm my suspicion that he thought I wasn’t going to make it there.
I tore a small bite with my teeth and chewed slowly, reaching for my flask and washing the mouthful down with some water.
He expelled a breath that wasn’t quite a gasp but close.
“What? What is it?” I jerked, immediately thinking that some bat-crazed individual had found us.
“Firebugs.”
I straightened, alarmed. “Firebugs? What are those?” I was accustomed to bugs, but that didn’t mean I liked them. The world was teeming with them. They owned the night right alongside the dwellers.
He hesitated. “Have you never heard of firebugs before?”
I shook my head, trying not to feel so unworldly even if I was.
“When I was a boy we used to trap them in jars. They’re small flying bugs and their bodies light up in the dark.”
“They’re here now?” I asked, turning my face left and right nervously. “Will dwellers see them and be attracted to the light?”
“They never bother with them. They’re not a food source, so they ignore them.”
I relaxed somewhat, but still searched for evidence of these creatures that lit up like fire.