To Be Free by Marie-Ange Langlois Page B

appease, crouching in front of him. He looks up, in the
middle of zipping up his own, and blinks, slightly startled at how
close I am in comparison to a minute ago. "I think I'll manage,
though; I've scrounged up some extra medication from the other
first aid kits in the store and I'll take them for a few more days.
Alright?"
    He frowns at me, clearly
displeased, but sighs in defeat regardless as he pulls the zipper
shut. The man stands, pulling the straps over his own shoulders and
pulling the cowl over his head to shadow his features.
    "How far is it to the first
camp site?" he asks, watching me stand as well. I frown, thinking
that one through a minute.
    "I'd say about eight hours," I
inform him, scratching my hair. It's been ages since I've been able
to shower daily, and looks like I'm going to have to live without
that luxury for a bit longer. "They're expecting us to go either
north or south, so we'll follow the north-eastern trail that'll
take us into the depths of the woods and continue north when we get
to the other outpost three days' walk from here."
    "If it's eight, we could skip
the first and go to the second," he notes, and I'm shaking my head
before he even finishes, pulling my cowl over my own head.
    "The second is about sixteen
hours away from the first," I tell him, and here he curses softly,
carding a hand through his dark fringe. His hazel eyes look almost
blue in the pre-dawn light filtering from behind the trees. "We'd
be walking until sunrise."
    "Alright, we'll stick to the
original plan, then," he says, shrugging a shoulder. "I also trust
your sense of direction more than mine, so I'll leave you to guide
us, okay?"
    "Not that it's very
complicated," I scoff, pulling the straps of my backpack higher
onto my shoulders, wincing slightly as they dig into my skin
painfully. "There's a path cutting clearly through the forest -
well, sort of, anyways."
    He's frowning at me, pulling on
the edge of his cowl as if it could go any further over his face if
he just pulled enough.
    "If it's so obvious, won't they
see us coming from a mile away?" Quinn questions, and I avoid the
urge to roll my eyes at him, reminding myself that it's not his
fault he was sheltered in his little fantasy for the last few
years.
    To be honest... I really ought
to be a lot fairer to the man and give him some credit. He's taking
all of this pretty well, and he's been through hell and back the
same way I have.
    At the very least, I could
maybe learn to trust him a lit-
    No. Not even
that. I can't afford to let anyone else in like that again - just
the thought of it makes my heart beat once painfully in my chest.
Something lodges itself in my throat, and I'm pretty sure
that something is
the organ beating beneath my ribcage.
    I just can't let another soul
see me so vulnerable. I can't give anyone else the power to break
me, although to be fair they wouldn't have much to break...
    It's not like you can fix
something you can't see in the first place.
    "Around the ten-mile mark we'll
be skirting through the woods instead," I remark, shrugging a
shoulder and glancing out the frosted glass to the drizzling land
beyond the safety of the walls. "If need be, there's a sort of
'underground' part of the hike, though it's not on the lodge's
itinerary."
    Eleven looks at me blankly,
confused, and I clarify.
    "They used it to smuggle
alcohol during the probation," I supply flatly, and he snorts into
his hand.
    " God bless
America , right?"
    Laughing lightly, I carefully
open the door as quietly as I can, slipping out into the darkened
evening air - having decided that it'd be somewhat safer if we
moved at night, when Recon One will more likely be exhausted and
lazy - and waiting for Quinn to make it out after me before I slip
it shut as quietly as I can. The rain hits the cowl thrown over my
head almost noisily, running down the lengths of the fabric
covering our bodies.
    I have a slight headache
tickling the edge of my consciousness, barely perceptible,