from my prison and kept it from becoming my grave. But why? For what purpose? In all my time wasting away in that tower, I never saw a hunter, hiker, or camper. My screams only attracted animals. I only ever saw one person.
The frequency of Mr. Grouse's visits fluctuated. Sometimes, he stayed in the camp for a few days; other times, he only came to drop off food and water and tell me he was still working on a way to safely let me out. I'd given up on him ever finding a way. He probably hadn't ever been searching for one. He'd just told me that to keep me docile, and I'd been dumb enough to believe it for as long as I had. But he hadn't visited in weeks, possibly months. I was down to my last container of water and had run out of food the day before.
"Where are we going?" I asked Dog.
"To our home, up the coast. In Rockshell," Faust answered instead. The man's stomach muscles clenched with his words, emphasizing just how much of him there was. He wasn't big like how I was—soft like a pack of dinner rolls—but hard and intimidating. Mr. Grouse wasn't muscled at all, and he'd kept me locked up without it ever seeming that difficult.
Rockshell wasn't a town name I recognized. I knew we weren't in Yamitt but didn't know how far outside of town the camp was.
My next question stuck in the back of my throat. I'd had no trouble speaking when my intent had been to ask Dog a question, but now that I wanted to address the muscular pile of boulders beneath me, my tongue twisted into a knot.
Dog sensed my distress and nuzzled closer.
Faust noticed and tightened his hold while letting out a slow breath. "You're safe, Storri. That may be hard for you to believe right now, but you are."
The stupid thing was that I believed him. Mostly.
The last person I'd trusted to keep me safe had become my personal bogeyman. I'd hated hearing the engine of his four-wheeler every time he rode it in, but when I went weeks without hearing it, I only got more scared. He'd controlled everything I needed to live. In the beginning, when my supplies dwindled to nothing, I'd tried asking some of the birds to find me food, but we weren't near any towns, so they only ever came back with berries and dead mice.
"We're nearly there." He paused, and when he spoke again, it was with great reluctance. "Do you want to sit in your own seat? If you'll be more comfortable…"
I didn't want that. Sitting on my own meant leaving his safe embrace. I hadn't been touched by a human in… I didn't know how long it had been. I'd kept count in the beginning, but after a while, keeping track felt pointless. Every lonely day was just like the one that came before. There'd been days where I'd felt so starved for touch, I'd sit on my hands until they were numb and then rub my arms while pretending it was someone else.
I didn't want to sit alone, but I had to answer. That was the polite thing. But the base of my throat constricted, and my breaths sounded like air blown through a straw.
"You don't have to answer," Faust said in a gentle tone. "You don't have to move either. Whatever you want to do, Storri."
Whatever I wanted? I hadn't made a meaningful choice since the day I'd walked into Mr. Grouse's office. But I didn't want to move. So I wouldn't. I dug my nose into his shoulder, bringing me closer to his scent. He smelled of the forest, loam and pine, fresh and invigorating. While I was still wary of the man, I wasn't wary about his scent.
He must've understood what I wanted because he didn't ask again.
The wind is changing, Dog said, though to Faust, it probably sounded like a high-pitched whine.
"Changing to what?" I asked.
To home smells.
We were close, then. Close to what, though? Another prison? Not home. I didn't have one of those anymore.
"Is he talking to Dog?" This voice belonged to the other man.
There wasn't anything especially hostile about the way he asked, but the reminder that I was outnumbered in this space made me flinch.
"Hey, shhh, you're okay," Faust said in a soothing tone. "That's Diesel. He's my pack brother."
Pack brother. That was a term I understood. Animals that lived in groups often referred to