I turn and in the last of the evening light I see her.
Cassia.
Even far away, I know it’s her by the way her dark hair tangles with the wind and how she stands on the red rocks of the Carving. She’s more beautiful than snow.
Is this real?
She points to the sky.
Chapter 22
CASSIA
We’re almost to the top; we can almost look out over the plain.
“Cassia, stop,” Indie says as I start to climb an outcropping of rocks.
“We’re almost there,” I say. “I have to see.” Over the last few hours I’ve felt strong again, clearheaded. I want to stand on the highest point so I can try to see Ky. The wind is cold and clean. It feels good rushing over me.
I climb on top of the highest rock.
“Don’t,” Indie says from below. “You’re going to fall.”
“Oh,” I say. There is so much to see. Orange rocks and a brown-grassed plain and water and blue mountains. Darkening sky, deep clouds, red sun, and a few small cold flakes of white snow coming down.
Two little dark figures, looking up.
Are they looking at me?
Is it him?
This far away, there’s only one way to know.
I point to the sky.
For a moment, nothing happens. The figure stands still and I stand cold and alive and—
He starts to run.
I make my way down the rocks, slipping, sliding, trying to get to the plain. I wish, I think, my feet clumsy, moving too fast, not fast enough, I wish I could run, I wish I’d written a whole poem, I wish I kept the compass—
And then I reach the plain and wish for nothing but what I have.
Ky. Running toward me.
I have never seen him run like this, fast, free, strong, wild. He looks so beautiful, his body moves so right.
He stops just close enough for me to see the blue of his eyes and forget the red on my hands and the green I wish I wore.
“You’re here,” he says, breathing hard and hungry. Sweat and dirt cover his face, and he looks at me as though I’m the only thing he ever needed to see.
I open my mouth to say yes. But I only have time to breathe in before he closes the last of the distance. All I know is the kiss.
Chapter 23
KY
Our poem,” she whispers. “Will you say it to me?”
I put my face close to her ear. My lips brush against her neck. Her hair smells like sage. Her skin smells like home.
But I can’t speak.
She is the first to remember that we are not alone. “Ky,” she whispers.
We both pull back a little. In the fading light I see the tangles in her hair and the tan on her skin. Her beauty always makes me ache. “Cassia,” I say, my voice hoarse, “this is Eli.” When she turns to him and her face lights up I know that I didn’t imagine his resemblance to Bram.
“This is Indie,” she says, gesturing to the girl who came with her. Indie folds her arms across her chest.
A pause. Eli and I glance at each other. I know we both think of Vick. This should be the moment we introduce him to them but he’s gone.
Just last night Vick was alive. This morning he stood next to the stream, watching the trout as it swam. He thought of Laney while the colors flashed and the sun shone down.
Then he died.
I gesture at Eli, who stands very straight. “There were three of us this morning,” I say.
“What happened?” Cassia asks. Her hand tightens on mine and I squeeze back gently, trying to be careful of the cuts I feel carved into her skin. What has she been through to find me?
“Someone came,” I tell her. “They killed our friend Vick. The river, too.”
Suddenly I’m aware of how we must look from above. We’re standing here on the plain out in the open for anyone to see. “Let’s get inside the Carving,” I say. In the west beyond the mountains the sun slides low—almost gone—on a day of dark and light. Vick gone. Cassia here.
“How did you do it?” I ask, drawing closer to her as we slip into the Carving. She turns to answer me, her breath hot on my cheek. We come together to kiss again, our hands and lips gentle and greedy with each other. Against her warm skin I whisper, “How did you find us?”
“The compass,” she says, and she presses it into my hand. To my surprise it’s the one I made of stone.
“So where do we go now?” Eli asks, his voice wavering, when we reach the spot where we camped with Vick. It still smells like smoke. The beams of our flashlights catch the silver of fallen fish scales. “Are we still going to cross the plain?”
“We can’t,” Indie says. “Not for a day or two, anyway. Cassia’s been sick.”
“I’m fine now,” Cassia tells us. Her voice sounds strong.
I reach for the chert in my pack to start another small fire. “I think we stay here tonight,” I tell Eli. “We can decide more in the morning.” Eli nods and without my asking begins to gather brush for the fire.
“He’s so young,” Cassia says softly. “Did the Society send him out here?”
“Yes,” I say. I strike the chert. Nothing.
She puts her hand on mine and I close my eyes. The next time I strike, the sparks snap and fly and she catches her breath.
Eli brings an armful of stringy, tough brush. When he adds it to the fire, it crackles and the smell of sage rises into the night—sharp and wild.
Cassia and I sit as near to each other as we can. She leans into me and I keep my arms around her. I don’t fool myself that I hold her together—she does that on her own—but holding her keeps me from flying apart.
“Thank you,” Cassia tells Eli. I can tell from her voice that she smiles at him and he smiles back, barely. He sits in the spot where Vick sat last night. Indie moves to give Eli more space and leans in to see the fire dance. She glances at me and I see a flash of something in her eyes.
I shift position a little, blocking her view of us with my back and angling my flashlight so that it shines on Cassia’s hands. “What happened?” I ask her.
She looks down. “I cut them on a rope,” she says. “We climbed into another canyon looking for you before we came back to this one.” She glances at the other two and smiles at them before she leans in more closely. “Ky,” she says, “we’re together again.”
I have always loved the way she says my name. “I can’t believe it either.”