I bump into Samick. A lot. Shoulder just knocking into his arm over and over.
If he’s annoyed, hurling me those scathing glares of his in the dark, I don’t know. He doesn’t throw in a snarl or hiss or anything.
He doesn’t yank the tether, either.
Not once in the dozen times I’ve smacked into him.
After a while, the mud levels out into the firmness of asphalt again, and even though it’s slick with rainfall and puddles, I’m grateful for the return to the road.
Samick tugs me closer every so often, like he’s pulling me out of the way of potholes and fallen bikes, but it isn’t much longer before the torches rise, starting as orange lights cupped in darkness, then—together—blasting through the shadows.
The town ahead is revealed.
Without a word, Samick steers me back to the captives—the humans, the kuris, the evates—and leaves me in the protective circle of the guards.
Pissed me off the first time he left me with the guards after Rust came back. Now, I think I’ve figured it out. Here, I’m protected by the rules of the general, the law of the unit. Like, Rust would get in serious trouble for attacking me among the captives, out in the open, in plain sight.
So he’s biding his time, watching, scheming.
I’m sort of safe as the fae destroy the town. As safe as I can be.
I don’t weep as screams come from the buildings.
I don’t talk to Connie, the evate of one of the warriors. A mate, who I just think is cursed.
I don’t even sit with her.
I sit as close to the biggest guard as I can.
And I watch, mute, until the town is ash and we leave it behind.
Just another day in the blackout.
Except this one is coming with the heaviest cramping weight settled in my belly. The last day of my period. I can tell it’s the last by the sensations, like my body is trying to rinse out all the leftover scraps of blood hanging around in my womb, and it’s fucking horrible.
Thankfully, the unit stops to make the big camp somewhere in a field near a murky reservoir and with troughs toppled over. Must’ve been a farm once upon a time.
The rain has stopped. But the mugginess sits stagnant in the air, and so I feel the damp on my face, glittering on my gloves, wetting my lungs with the threat of another virus.
I look forward to the campfires. But those are a good fifteen minutes away.
The pattern is predictable now.
Samick hands off my tether to Arwyn, then hikes up the hill arching away from the lake’s shore.
I don’t know for sure where he goes off to, but I’ve got an inkling.
Ever since I saw the antenna poking out of his satchel, I’ve suspected that he’s contacting them.
Dare.
Bee.
The thought of her sends my stomach slingshotting through my chest.
I steel myself.
It doesn’t help me to wallow about her. Or even think about her for more than a few seconds.
