“Like I said,” she murmured. “It’s not finished. I’m not sure it’s any good.”
“Maybe I'll start calling you Lark instead of Crane.”
Her head lifted, eyes wide.
“It was very pretty,” I said. “Sad. But pretty.”
She swallowed. “My emotions seep into the song when I’m writing. Maybe once we’re finally settled north, I can write something happy.”
I reached out, brushed my thumb along her cheek.
“I want to see you happy,” I said. “I want to make you write happy songs.”
A knock startled us.
The door swung open.
Cade stood in the doorway.
“It’s time to go.”
“Finally!” Crane said, hopping off the bed and grabbing her backpack.
She leaned her guitar against the closet door.
And gave it one last look.
Saying goodbye.
Before heading out the door.
Cade turned to me. His stare was hard and focused. His fingers moved.
Don’t take your eyes off her. She stays with you at all times. If anything happens, take her. Nothing else matters. Keep her safe. That’s an order.
I nodded once.
When we snuck off base, Crane kept looking back.
I nudged her forward. “Keep pace.”
“Why can’t we drive again?” she complained.
“Arca tracks convoys,” Cade answered. “They’ll notice one missing. We don’t want to make it easy for them to find us.”
“How far is it?”
“Far,” Cade said. Short. Final.
We walked at a brisk pace.
Moving as a unit.
Kept Crane close to me.
Close enough to touch.
An hour passed.
