Breaking World: The Last Sanctuary Book Four by Kyla Stone

Author:Kyla Stone [Stone, Kyla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paper Moon Press
Published: 2018-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

19

Willow

The air was sharp and brittle. Every sound was crisp. The crunch of their boots over snow. The crack of a twig. The soft thud of powdered snow falling from a tree branch.

It was so cold even Willow’s blood felt frozen. She stamped her feet on the snowy ground, her boots crunching a layer of frosted pine needles.

The first several miles, they’d jumped at every sound, but now they were used to the rhythm of the woods, the creak of the bare branches against each other, the soft patter of creatures moving in the snow, the dense trees and the shadows that seemed to dog their every step.

“We’ve been wandering around in the woods for two days now,” Finn said. He’d been complaining all afternoon—good-naturedly, but still. He winced, pressing his good hand to his side. “I prefer a more leisurely pace.”

“And I’d prefer to sip mai-tais on a Caribbean beach,” Willow snapped, “but alas, here we are.”

“You get what you get, and you don’t throw a fit,” Benjie chimed in behind them.

“Listen to the kid,” she said with more patience than she felt. They were just now far enough south of the Patriots’ compound that her shoulders were relaxed a bit, the tension in her gut beginning to unwind.

She checked the Smartflex she’d borrowed from the Patriots’ storage room before they’d left; both the GPS and the compass still worked. It was top of the line, plated in smoky platinum and crusted with rubies. In her old life, she could’ve paid for four years of college with this. Or maybe a house with more than one bathroom.

But the old world was long gone. Now she’d be thrilled to have an outhouse.

They’d traveled about twenty miles in two days, which was a lot for an eight-year-old kid and Finn, who was still recovering from his gunshot wound.

They were all exhausted. Willow’s thighs ached. Her eyes were red and gritty.

Last night, she’d barely slept. Between watch shifts, with the eerily disconcerting forest noises and Finn’s giant body nearly squeezing her out of the too-small tent, sleeping was pretty much a lost cause.

She had stayed awake, staring into the living darkness of the woods, wishing the yellow eyes of Raven’s wolf would appear, and thinking of Silas, of their last conversation before they’d parted ways.

They had been sparring outside near the compound’s training center. Willow had managed to land a particularly nasty punch. Silas stumbled back, clutching his nose. Blood gushed between his fingers. “Damn, princess.”

“Are you okay? Let me see.” She went to him, gripped by guilt, and tried to pry his fingers away. He flinched from her touch like she’d burned him.

Irritated, she spoke without thinking. “You can have friends, you know. It’s not a weakness.”

He spat blood on the ground. “To my father, everything was a weakness.”

She hid her surprise at his response. It was real—with feeling behind it. He’d never brought up his father before. “He’s not here anymore. You are. Believe it or not, there are people who actually care about you.

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