Lucky for me, we take a foot-worn path through the trees. The route from Sol's village to the Summus' settlement mustn't be one so ill-used. The dirt is hard-packed from decades of traffic and the greenery on either side doesn't threaten to take over. It's almost nice, unlike my traipse through the Outlands yesterday, forging my own path through bushes and undergrowth with no direction.

At first, I have no trouble keeping up with Sol's steady gait. But after the first few miles, I begin to notice myself falling behind. I guess I didn't have such opportunity to exercise in Herald.

Sol notices my gradually decreasing speed and stops, briefly looking to the sky. "We cannot rest for too long, but sit. Have a drink."

I sit against the rough bark of a tree and eagerly reach for my pack, removing and uncapping my canteen. Before I even put the spout to my lips, Sol stops me with a gentle hand on my wrist.

"Slowly, and just a bit," she advises. "You will need to save some for later."

I get the idea, but I also want to down the entire container.

So I only drink a little, just enough to wet my tongue. I want more, but Sol says the journey will take all day.

We don't sit much longer, maybe two minutes, but it's enough to put some vigor back in my stride. After returning my canteen to my pack, we continue along the path. We walk in comfortable silence. I get the feeling Sol is like me; she's a listener. We prefer to stand on the sidelines and observe, to listen to others talk and understand what's not being said. We don't feel the need to fill silence with useless chatter. I am currently content with listening to the wind in the trees, and the early-morning birdsong in the canopy above us. Most importantly, the quiet lets me think.

I think about all sorts of things. What is happening to Markee right now? Is she hurt? Or being held prisoner? I think of Mom and Dad back at home in Herald, probably overwrought and fantic. Miles, his border patrol squadron cleaning up the mess around the wall. What will Vera think when I don't show up at her market booth today? Will anyone tell her I'm missing? And the council...

How will the council explain the Breach? Markee's abduction? My disappearance? I already know that they won't send anyone to search for us, but what's to stop this from happening again?

I remember what Rik said, about Sol not going back to Summus Aspen's village. She has a nephew there; why wouldn't she want to spend time with her relatives more often?

Though she's taking me there now, the reason she's been staying away makes me apprehensive. So I decide to break the silence.

"When did you last visit the Summus' village?" I ask nervously.

Sol's steps never falter, no hint of surprise in her features. Her silence continues for a moment, thinking.

"It's been almost four years since we left there," she replies. "Hazel had just turned five years old."

I'm not sure what I expected, but I can't keep the image of a five-year-old Hazel wandering down this dusty path from entering my head, tiny feet and tawny hair included. So young to make this journey. And never once returned. Neither has her mother. I don't feel comfortable asking why, or else I'd be prying, but I would like to know what to expect.

"What's it like there?" I ask. "Is it anything like your village?"

"Not at all," she scoffs. "Everything there tries to be bigger. More than necessary. Pretentious and hollow."

I chuckle at the idea of a near-medieval hut and no indoor plumbing being ostentatious.

"Really," she continues, raising her eyebrows. "You'll see what I mean."

We continue on our westward march. I can almost feel the distance grow between me and the walls of Herald with every step. I've gotten a lot more comfortable being away from home and everything familiar. Not like I have an option, after coming this far.

When the sun is high in the sky, and we both are wiping away beads of sweat from our brows, we take a break. We sit in the shade of an oak tree just off the path and dive into our lunch rations. I immediately go for the flat bread Sol packed for me. The crust is coarse, but the inside is blessedly soft. I remember Sol's lecture on rationing the water, so I save half the loaf, but devour the nuts and berries. I don't even touch the dried meat, leery of what animal it could have been.

When we start walking again, it feels like it's gotten even hotter. Without a cloud in the sky, the sun beats down on us, no shade in the middle of the path where we walk. Sol pauses, and I pull up beside her, watching her pull something out of her bag. When she places a cloth around my neck, I want to swat her away. It's already hot enough! I open my mouth to protest, but she beats me to it with an explanation.

"You will wear this, or else the sun will burn you."

Four summers ago, on a day as hot as this, Markee and I decided we would accompany Miles and Rhett to the canals to fish. Of course, Markee's too cool to bait a hook, and I was never exactly the sportsman type, so we laid out on the bank while the boys caught dinner. Hours later, we left as red as Old Man Wyatt's barn. Markee was so angry--her freckles seemed to triple in number. I spent the next two weeks nursing blisters and peeling skin.

I am quick to thank Sol. I didn't even think of the back of my neck being so exposed. Even though I'm sweating bullets, I'd rather that than another blistering sunburn.

The day endures, and the sun, ever blazing, sinks closer to the western horizon.

"Not much longer now," Sol tells me. We've been travelling at a good pace, judging by my sore calves and breathlessness. I'm eager to reach our destination, not only for a reprieve from trudging along this infernal dirt pathway, but because I'll hopefully be close to Markee. If Sol's right about Summus Aspen wanting something from Markee, we shouldn't have to look far. Wherever the Summus is, Markee will be.

She has to be.

Gradually, the dirt path widens into a dirt road, and the trees surrounding us become sparse. Thinking we must be getting close, my feet move a little faster. Each footfall brings me closer to Markee. I briefly wonder if Sol will help us find the way home, after all is said and done.

We round a bend in the route and a brick building comes into view. Then two more. Soon enough, standing in front of us is a sprawling village. Sol's village is practically an outpost compared to this. Her home could be swallowed twice by how far this compound stretches.

"Welcome to Keir," Sol says, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. I squeeze back, thankful for the support, and giving some back. Her motive for leaving remained here. We both have a reason to be brave.

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