Wings of the Walker - CoraLee June Page 0,221

ear. There was a fire in his expression that wasn't there before, making my breath hitch. His smoldering hands left a blazing trail of tension down my neck. I wasn't the only one craving more. But I wasn't ready for that. At least, not until I had the rest of my guys back.

"As much as keeping you to myself has been nice, I'm kind of tired of hearing them mope."

I'd spent time with them. We ate our meals together—in silence. We shared a tent. Hell, most nights after training, I’d crawl into bed beside Patrick or Kemper. The Scavengers assigned each of us jobs, so we were busy throughout the day, but I'd still see them, kind of. I just wasn't present. Not really.

I was hollow. A shell of who I was before. We’ve all changed. Patrick, my handsome and playful twin, wasn't smiling as much. I missed his sweet lullabies and kind smile. Kemper lacked his usual ambition. He felt like he'd failed us—failed me. And he’d practically given up on trying to fix everything around him.

Despite this, they pushed the boundaries I drew around myself. They'd linger in the tent. Hold me while I slept. Kemper kissed my cheek each morning before patrol, and Patrick made me breakfast. Half of me resented them for it, while the other half wished that they would push more. I needed someone to force me to get better, I needed someone to force me to stop being so self-destructive.

Fighting with Huxley made me feel alive again, but even that wasn't the real me. It wasn't enough. I guess they were getting tired of loving a ghost. What if they left me? Would they grow tired of waiting?

My expression must have echoed the fear I felt because Huxley then wrapped me in a huge hug. I sunk into his sweaty hold. Silent tears fell down my cheeks, dampening his chest as sobs made me shake.

"I'll talk to them," I finally said.

Chapter Two

Huxley and I walked back towards our tent on the outskirts of camp. We'd been staying with the Water camp close to the Eastern border. Huxley mentioned that Tallis regularly traded with them. It was a risk to come here, but it was our only option. Dormas was out of the question, for obvious reasons. And any alliances Cyler had procured dissolved once word got out that Cavil held him prisoner. The Elite blindly believed in Cavil’s authority and didn’t dare challenge him, and an alliance with us was exactly that—a challenge.

It wasn't easy getting settled. Aside from Aarav, the camp leader, most of the Scavengers thought it was too big a risk to hide us in their camp. I couldn't necessarily disagree with them.

Rumors of Cavil's instabilities traveled far and wide. We knew there was a target on our backs, and if found, we would put everyone at risk. Scavenger communities were constantly being pushed deeper into the deadlands by Cavil's growing army. The glowing woods weren't suitable for habitation, and the further you went, the worse it got. But the Scavengers adapted as much as they could, and we learned to adapt alongside them.

I learned more about the deadlands and its toxic water supply during my time here. Long ago, a contamination bled into the soil and the water, making everything glow. Long term exposure weakened a human’s immune system. It also made their bodies run less efficiently. It took more work to keep warm in the winter time, and they suffered many food allergies too. It was interesting to learn all they’d suffered just to escape the rule of the empire.

We made sure to settle far away from the others and tried to make ourselves scarce yet useful. Huxley, Patrick, and Kemper rotated patrol shifts, and I worked with the camp healer, Lilly. I liked my job. It helped me feel closer to Maverick. She was an old, grumpy woman with a mischievous attitude. She taught me about the different plant properties and methods of healing while chastising me for moping about. Each time I learned something new, it felt like I was honoring Maverick. And each time she insulted me, my skin thickened. I appreciated the tough love.

We had a routine. It wasn't ideal, it wasn't home, but it was enough—for now. The worst part about the deadlands was living next door to Linda Stonewell. Since escaping with us, she’d also taken up residence in the deadlands. "I need to fetch water for Linda again tomorrow," I told