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Stalking forward, he ignores my question. His hood is up, and his sandy hair sticks out at the bottom, reminding me of a scarecrow. It makes me smile, although none of this is funny.
“Fine, stay here with Nigel, then. Suit your fucking self,” he says, calling over his shoulder.
The mere thought of that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Wait,” I call out and run after him, eager to leave the cold, malevolent energy behind me.
After a few minutes, I can barely keep up with him, and I start crying, the tears pouring out of me. He turns his head at me and grunts, but I offer to hold the muskrat. So he sweeps me into his arms, and I let out a sigh from not having to put pressure on my legs anymore. He carries me the rest of the way, probably because he doesn’t want to hear me whine.
Relaxing to the rhythmic sway of his arms, I stare down at the lifeless eyes of the rodent I once would have gagged at.
Sweet victory.
What we need to survive is protein, but primarily fat. It could put life back into us for a few days until we consider our next move. Micah showed me how to render it, cook the fat, and consume it with liquids. Even a flat rock can be used to pool it. That’s what’s truly kept us going all these months. I wonder if Ezra knows how to do that, though somehow I doubt he does.
When we finally arrive at his camp, he carefully helps me into the shelter, lifting me by my hips and gently setting me down. He lights a fire with a bit of fuel he has in a water bottle—he stole it from our collective supplies. Fuel is yet another resource that is becoming quite limited. The flames flare up, casting a warm glow around us. I stare up at Ezra, who still hasn’t spoken since we left Nigel.
“I’ll be back,” he says.
My skin turns clammy as a wall of terror slams into me. I stare over the cave lip, half expecting to see argyle hovering over it. I look at Ezra with pleading eyes. “Please don’t leave me. He’s going to come for me, isn’t he?”
Ezra pulls his spear into his hand, prepping to leave me. “Yeah, I wouldn’t put it past him. I’m going to check the area and make sure he didn’t follow us.”
“You’re scared of him, aren’t you?”
His beady eyes flash. “I’m not scared of anything anymore. But I can understand why you are. Naomi didn’t like being around him, either. She said he was suspicious. But he helped me hunt; he saved my life when your fucking boyfriend decided to mutilate me. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead.” He presses his stubby hand to my chest. “And you serve as a reminder of what Micah did to me, so I’m sorry if I’m a bit conflicted on what to do with you.”
“He killed Maison in cold blood,” I remind him. “Or are you blocking it out because it’s inconvenient for you?”
His eyes shoot daggers at me, his lips turning down. “There isn’t a fucking day that goes by when I don’t think about it, London.” He jumps out of the cave with ease.
Shit. I pressed him too hard.
Still, Maison is the only topic that fires him back to life. Maison is the key to winning him over; I know it.
I curl up in a ball, enjoying the flames on my face, and start to daydream about Micah. My tall athlete in his dark hoodie, with his dark eyes and equally dark soul, each of which sets alight my fire.
Five days of nothing but my own haunting thoughts after spending months with him, through which he was my entire existence.
Five days…
Micah hasn’t come for me.
Five days…
I haven’t even heard a whisper from him. It’s as if he never existed at all.
Eventually, and I have no idea how long I waited, Ezra returns, and the muskrat we caught is skinned and cooked. He watches me with disgust as I curl into a ball. He’s obviously still pouting from when I called him out. However, he still hands me a hunk of it and some fresh water. I carefully scan the liquid for mold but end up drinking anyway.
“Nigel’s not around. I checked everywhere,” he tells me. “But stay close to me, no matter what. He doesn’t like you, London.”
I scoff. “Evidently.” I have a feeling in my gut that this is not the last I’ll see of Nigel.
Ezra sits with his lanky legs out in front of him, chewing on his meat. “Do you want to know the real reason why I want to keep you around?” he asks me with his mouth full.
My heart stops at the way he says it, as if he has no plans to let me go.
He plans to keep me… like I’m a possession.
