"I can fly there," I said.
Ellie turned to look at me, her expression caught between hope and disbelief, her eyebrows raised. "Rickon, that's... that's over two thousand miles. Not even you can fly that far in one night. Can you?"
"No, it would take several days," I admitted, feeling the weight of my own limitations. "But I can fly at night when we're less likely to be spotted. Hewes will have eyes everywhere during the day—satellites, drones, military patrols. But at night, in the darkness, we'll be nearly invisible. My people evolved for nocturnal hunting. Our coloring, our silent flight, it's all adapted for moving unseen through the night sky."
"And during the day?"
"We rest. We hide." I gestured vaguely at the store around us, at the aisles of camping equipment and survival gear. "We find somewhere to shelter until nightfall, then continue. It might take us a week, maybe more, but we'll get there."
Ellie's brow furrowed as she considered, her teeth worrying at her lower lip in a way that I found distracting. I forced myself to focus on her eyes instead, on the intelligence working behind her bright green gaze. "But where would we hide? We can't exactly check into a hotel. Your face is probably on every news channel by now... and my face. Not to mention trying to find abandoned buildings, somewhere to stay out of sight...." She trailed off, her gaze drifting across the store, past the fishing boats suspended from the ceiling and the taxidermized animals with their glass eyes, until it landed on something that made her go still.
I followed her stare to a display of camping equipment. Fabric shelters of various sizes set up as if in an actual campsite, complete with sleeping bags rolled out on foam pads and camp chairs arranged around a fake fire pit made of painted foam logs and artificial flames.
"What is it?" I asked, watching her expression brighten.
A slow smile spread across her features, the first genuine smile I'd seen since we fled the yacht. "Dalton used to watch this YouTube channel. A show calledOutdoor Boys. A father and his kids who'd go camping in the most remote places you can imagine. Winter camping in Alaska, survival camping with minimal gear, ice fishing. All of it." She walked toward the display, her hand trailing over the taut canvas of a tent, her fingers tracing the seams. "They have everything here. Everything we'd need to survive in the wilderness for days, maybe weeks."
Understanding dawned on me. "Instead of searching for places to hide..."
"We make our own hiding spots," she finished, her voice gaining energy and conviction. "We camp in the wilderness. The deep wilderness, miles from any roads or trails, where no one would think of looking. Where there are no cameras or witnessesto give away our location." Her eyes were bright now, animated with excitement. "We could stay completely off the grid. There are millions of acres of national forest between here and Montana. More space than Hewes could ever hope to search."
"Won't it be cold?" I asked, thinking of the route we'd have to take. The temperatures would only grow colder as we traveled north and closer to the mountains.
"Yes," she admitted, but her smile didn't fade. "But they make these things called hot tents—canvas tents with a wood stove inside." She pointed toward a thick canvas tent with an aluminum pipe protruding from the roof. "You vent the smoke through a pipe, and the stove keeps the entire space warm, even in sub-zero temperatures. Dalton always wanted to try one, he watched hours of videos about them." Her voice caught slightly on his name. "We can stay warm, cook, melt snow for water, and completely hide from aerial surveillance among the trees."
I looked at the display with new appreciation, seeing it not as simply merchandise but as tools for survival. Ellie astounded me with her brilliance. Hewes would be watching roads, airports, train stations, bus depots, anywhere a fugitive might logically flee. He'd have agents checking hotels and motels, monitoring monetary transactions, and phone records. But the vast stretches of uninhabited wilderness between here and Montana? Millions of acres of forests and mountains where we could simply vanish like smoke on the wind?
"Show me what we need," I said.
For the next hour, we worked in silence, moving through the store with purpose. Ellie led the way, selecting items with the precision of someone who'd clearly learned enough to know what mattered.
The hot tent itself, a heavy canvas affair in forest green, large enough for two people to move around comfortably, with a stovepipe jack reinforced with fire-resistant material. A compactwood stove that broke down into pieces for easy transport, the metal surprisingly light for its size. A folding saw and a hatchet for processing firewood. Sleeping bags rated to negative twenty degrees Fahrenheit. Insulated sleeping pads in muted colors. A compact cookware set—pot, pan, utensils. Water filtration straws with replacement filters. Freeze-dried meals in silver packets—Ellie grabbed two dozen, reading labels to check calorie counts and preparation requirements. Waterproof matches in a sealed container, magnesium fire starters as backup, and headlamps with extra batteries. A comprehensive first-aid kit. Two hundred feet of paracord. A small folding shovel for digging holes and clearing ground.
We packed everything into one massive duffel bag, distributing the weight carefully.
"You should change," I said, gesturing to her dress, which was now rumpled and dirty at the hem. "Something warmer. More practical."
She nodded and disappeared into the clothing section, her footsteps fading. I heard the sound of hangers scraping on racks, the rustle of fabric. She returned minutes later, transformed. Gone was the elegant dress she'd worn for dinner. In its place: black and white camouflage pants that hugged her curves in ways that made my mouth go dry, a thermal base layer in charcoal gray, a thick fleece pullover, and an insulated jacket. She'd pulled her hair back into a practical ponytail and wore sturdy hiking boots with thick treads. She looked capable, ready for anything, and somehow even more beautiful than before.
"Your turn," she said, holding out a matching set of camo gear, the fabric heavy in her arms.
I took the pants and boots but hesitated over the jacket, holding it up and eyeing the back with obvious doubt. "My wings," I said simply.
Understanding crossed her face, followed quickly by concern. "Right. You'll have to go without a shirt."
"I'll be fine."
"You'll be freezing," she protested, her voice rising slightly, genuine worry creasing her brow. "We're going north, Rickon. It's going to be freezing, maybe colder. And that's during the day. At night, at the altitudes you'll be flying..." She shook her head emphatically. "You need something."
"I'll be fine," I repeated, more firmly this time, touched by her concern. "My body temperature runs hotter than humans. Significantly hotter. It's an adaptation for high-altitude flight. Our blood carries heat more efficiently."
She looked skeptical but didn't argue further, though I noticed her filing away the concern for later. I changed quickly, grateful for the privacy of the empty store. The camo pants fit well enough, snug at the waist but loose in the legs. I packed the insulated shirt and jacket in the duffel. I hadn't been totally honest with Ellie. I did feel the cold. My kind weren't immune to temperature. It just didn't affect my thick hide the way it did human skin. My dermal layer was dense, almost armor-like in places, designed to protect against the razor-sharp ice winds of my homeworld's upper atmosphere. I could endure cold that would kill a human in minutes. Endure it, though. Not enjoy it.
When I emerged from behind a display of kayaks, Ellie was staring at the loaded duffel bag, her arms crossed over her chest, biting on her lower lip. "How are we going to carry all this?"
I grabbed a length of climbing rope from a nearby display and tied it securely around my waist using a series of knots I'd learned in warrior training. Then I attached the duffel bag so it would hang suspended below me in flight, distributing the weight across my center of gravity. The weight was substantial but easily manageable.
"Like this," I said, testing the security of the knots.
