8.

The night flashes by in a blur, and if it weren't for the occasional threat of being incapacitated by a low hanging branch, I almost could've fallen asleep on Cassia's back. With both of the packs attached to me, we travel slower than the others.

Eric leads us, the hollower strapped to his back with rope and his pack on Malik a few inches behind. Malik's wolf is like he is—striking. Jet black fur that shimmers beneath the night sky, and electrifying eyes. They run for hours, the moon their fuel as the terrain shifts to lighter foliage, rockier earth, a steeper incline.

It feels like days pass before we skid to an abrupt stop. Eric lowers to the ground, eyes surveying the area. My heart picks up. I can feel the beat of Cassia's heart, the heave of her body beneath me.

"What's going on?" I whisper.

"The hollower is stirring." Eric shifts uncomfortably. "I don't want her waking up while strapped to me. We should walk the rest of the night and set up camp when the sun rises."

Cassia lowers herself and I slide off, my feet thumping against the earth. Eric pads over to me and nods to the hollower slung over his back. I pull at the ropes binding her to his body and catch her before she slumps to the ground in a heap, working to wind them ropes around her wrists as the other disappear to shift back. When they return, Eric and Cassia talk in hushed voices by the packs, casting glances at the hollower.

"I haven't run like that for days." Malik appears behind me, rolling his shoulders backwards. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." My shoulders are stiff and my neck aches from being in the same position for so long, but I haven't had to exert as much energy as them. "How far did we go?"

"We're about halfway," he says, "but we'll have to walk the rest of the way when she wakes up. We need the hollower to guide us the second half of the trip, provided she's cooperative."

"What if she's not? We'll waste so much time if we don't walk through the day."

"Doesn't matter," Eric huffs, pulling his pack over his shoulders. We haven't spoken since he yelled at me, but I don't miss the way he avoids my eye. "We're not traveling during the day anyway."

"Why not?" I frown.

"Too dangerous."

"But the hollowers are immortal anyway, it's not like the night is any safer."

"But we can't shift during the day and protect ourselves," Malik adds. "Eric's right. We should rest during the day."

Eric grumbles something beneath his breath and hoists the hollower over his shoulder before heading off. With a sigh, I follow, staring at his back with narrowed eyes. I know better than to expect an apology from Eric, especially if he meant what he said, but his words still sting. I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth and force myself to look away. Because if I dwell on his words for too long, my eyes prickle.

The moon dips beneath the trees, giving way for a deep navy to replace the obsidian black. My footfalls are the only disturbance in the eerie quiet. I keep expecting to be struck back by a hollower, or forced to hide in a tree, but nobody seems on alert except for me. I'm not cold, but I wrap my jacket around me anyway, as if it can somehow provide a sense of security.

"There." Cassia points up a slight hill, and I narrow my eyes in the direction. "You see that cave?"

"Could be a good shelter," Malik notes.

Eric tosses me a bottle. "Go with Cassia and find some water. We'll scout it out."

I fish the bottles from my backpack before handing it to Malik. Cassia fiddles with her pack, the shoulders strapped around her front. "I heard a stream a little bit that way," she says. "If we go now we'll make it back before sunrise."

Slipping a dagger into its sheath, I slide behind her, carefully stepping over twigs and fallen leaves and sticking to the trail we made on the way through. Cassia weaves silently through the trues, graceful as ever. I break into a jog to keep up with her.

I recall something Malik said—that Cassia convinced Eric to let me come. And even though I owe it to her, I can't bring myself to bring it up and thank her. The silence between us is necessary to stay as invisible as possible, and yet, there's a tension that lingers whenever we're together; betrayal and bitterness from the past weighs heavily on our interactions. Neither of us has been brave enough to confront it.

"How long will the trip take?" I ask.

"It depends. We're probably another day's walk from the coast, but we're not exactly sure where to go from there. That's where the hollower will help, hopefully."

I bite my lip and nod. If I were her, I wouldn't help us, so why would she? It seems awfully ironic that the fate of our rescue mission lies in the hands of the very species we're trying to take down.

"What were Malik's men doing by the coast anyway? Aren't they from the mountains?"

"They were visiting the elder village, where Malik grew up." She shrugs, unconcerned, before pausing. "Do you hear that?"

"The owl?"

"The water. Come on, it's this way."

We reach the stream a few moments later and lean down to fill the bottles, silence falling over us once again. I hate the feelings that linger—the unspoken words. Like we're both holding our breaths waiting for the other to snap.

"We should be quick," I say, trying to ease the awkwardness, "or Eric will throw a fit and chew my head off again."

"Don't worry about him," she says, waving her hand in the air. "He was the same way about me when I first started training. It's because he cares about you."

"Right." A few moments of silence pass. It's a foreign thought to think Eric is actually capable of caring for me like he does Cassia and Elias, but the prospect of it makes something stir in my chest—a sense of belonging. And yet it doesn't ease the sting of his words earlier.

"Hey." Cassia puts a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look at her. "He didn't mean what he said earlier."

"Eric never says anything he doesn't mean."

"That's not true." She frowns and then shifts uncomfortably. "Nothing that happened three months ago was your fault. Eric knows that, Elias knows that, I know that. You know that, right?"

A familiar feeling stabs at my chest as our eyes meet. I recognize the lilt of her head, the emotion brimming in her eyes—it's the reason I find it so hard to look at her these days. Guilt lines her features. Cassia doesn't blame me because she blames herself. Guilt has isolated the both of us so much that we can't recognize it in one another.

When I look at her, I feel the stab of betrayal and hear the agonizing cries that echoed in the kitchen as she lay over Elias' body. I remember how it felt when I realized that she'd chosen him over me, that no matter how much she cared about me, my life still wasn't worth fighting for. It would be so easy to tell her that she's right to blame herself, that she indirectly caused all of this to happen because of what she did. But then I remember Flo, how I told her I hated her, couldn't forgive her, wanted her to die. And I think of how I felt as I watched her bleed out on the forest floor, and I bite my tongue.

Cassia doesn't press me for an answer and we finish filling the bottles in silence. I shake my head, trying to clear the bitter memories of the past. As we rise to our feet, a high-pitched scream resonates through the trees. My blood runs cold as birds flee the treetops. We exchange a glance before bolting back the way we came.

~

DISCUSSION:

1. How do you guys feel about Cassia? Still mad?

2. Why do you think there was a scream?

3. What do you think might happen next?