The surprise on Luke's face was almost laughable. I would giggle myself were I not so embarrassed. A playful grin forms on his lips.

"No," he answers, his voice dropping half an octave. "There is no one in Keir awaiting me. I'm rarely in the village, and when I am, I try my best not to stay long."

"You stay in Sol's village often?" I ask. For some reason, I can see Luke more at home in a smaller, more personal environment. But at the same time, I have no problem picturing him sitting tall on a throne of stone.

He nods. "It's like my second home."

Home. Such a distant thing, physically, but I'm starting to realize that there are pieces of it I carry with me always. I feel it in the wind, cool like any summer day in Herald. I see it in the trees, their bark rough like Dad's hands. I hear it in the birdsong, so much like the tweets we hear playing hide-and-seek through the woods in springtime. The memory of home is never far.

We sit together in comfortable silence, and eventually the cicadas come out to sing. For a while, we just sit and listen to their chirps fill the night air.

"Tell me about your home. Herald."

Never in a thousand dreams would I have thought Luke would ask me anything about my life. He seemed so content to be distant, but the fact that he is interested now brightens my mood.

"It couldn't be more different from the Outlands. Natio," I clarify, using their terminology. "The governing system, the economy, the people. Electricity."

"Perseca has electricity," he tells me. "It is much more... advanced there." He shrugs his shoulder, where his weapons are slung. "That's where I got my bow."

I've wondered how he procured the arched contraption since I first saw it. I would not have thought the intricate strings and cam systems could be made outside of Herald. Perseca must be the leading technological city in Natio.

"I'm actually surprised I was able to handle living without electricity these past few days," I muse. "We always complain when the lights go out in Herald, but seeing you all live without it every day..." I pause, searching for the right words. "It makes me appreciate your patience and motivation so much more. It's special, working so well with what you have. No one out here seems to be bothered by the lack of electricity."

Luke says nothing, just grins at me. It makes me anxious.

"What?" I ask to fill the silence, trying not to squirm.

He shakes his head, the furrows in his face deepening with his growing smile. "You are going to do great in Perseca." With that, he stands, picking up the mess from dinner.

What is that supposed to mean? It sounded like a compliment. Should I thank him? Oh, wait. He's already gone, probably into the woods to scout the perimeter. We agreed to make rounds every hour.

I lay back on my bedroll. Luke's scent has faded as the day dragged on. I try to ignore the object to my immediate left, his bedroll laying perfectly parallel to mine. I shouldn't be so nervous. We slept in the same room last night, after all. What difference will a few less feet apart make?

Focusing on the stars above me, I marvel at how much brighter they are than in Herald. I've read about light pollution, but I never thought it affected our eyes this much. I wish I remembered more constellations from our Environmental Science lessons.

"I'll take first watch if you want," I offer when Luke returns. Before I even have a chance to get up, he waves me off. I can barely see him in the moonlight, but I can tell there's a disapproving frown on his face.

"I don't very much like that idea. Most creatures come out when the night is still young." He grabs a knife from his pack, then sits on the edge of his bedroll, his back to me, facing the woods. "You get some sleep. I will wake you when it is your turn to watch."

Not wanting to argue, and realizing he has a point, I pull my blanket up to my chin. It's strange to me how scorching it is during the day, but then how cool it gets at night. It is just chilly enough to make me uncomfortable.

I've had no trouble falling asleep these past few days. Worn out from the trek, my body wastes no time going into rest-mode.

When I open my eyes next, the morning birds are chirping and there is a faint light in the eastern sky. The sun has not risen yet, but soon.

The devil!

Sitting up abruptly, I scrub the crud out of my eyes. "You said we were going to switch off guard duty!"

"I said no such thing," says the little liar. He sits smugly on his bed, a pile of wood shavings before him and a small carved piece in his hands. "I said I would wake you when it was your turn to watch. You can watch the sun rise."

I flush. I can understand what he did, but it makes me feel bad. With the sun's arrival, chances of danger diminish. He let me sleep through the night for my own safety. Still, with the way his eyes are drooping, he has got to be exhausted. I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off.

"We were supposed to have a safe place to stay last night. It is my fault we did not. The least I could give you was decent sleep." His humorless voice is hoarse as he speaks; it brushes against my ears like the rocky bottom of Herald's quarry. Between my panic attack and his suffering, I feel immensely guilty.

"Please, sleep for at least a few hours. It won't do any good to have you at a disadvantage today." Softer, I plead. "I need you."

He takes his time replying, glancing between me and the surrounding trees with calculating eyes. "Just a few hours."

I'm thankful he allowed me to get more rest. Heavens know I need as much as I can get in order to make this trip alive.

But what he has sacrificed, will it be worth it?

Luke wakes almost exactly two hours later, according to my watch. He doesn't so much as yawn as he sits up and surveys the area, ensuring that nothing has changed and no danger has presented itself. Quickly, we indulge in breakfast and are on our way.

The next two days are a blur of green trees and increasing elevation. Up the hills we ascend, the forest giving dominance to sprawling coniferous trees. The scent of pines and firs permeate the air, giving a crispness to our long days. My legs are permanently sore from climbing uphill day after day.

So far, the journey has been mostly smooth-sailing, not counting that one night without shelter. The other nights we spent in houses much like the first. It's not until Luke stops in his tracks one afternoon that we hit our first real snag.

"There is a storm coming down from the mountains," he informs me. The muscles in his neck stand out, obvious tension coiled in the powerful tendons. His hair is sticking up from the wind blowing it in every direction, and it adds to his obvious displacement. His fingers fidget with the collar of his threadbare shirt, as if pulling it away from his chest can relieve the apprehension curled inside of him.

I search the blue sky, only a few fluffy white clouds can be seen. "How can you tell?"

Luke takes a step toward me and brushes back a chunk of hair that keeps slapping itself across my forehead. "That's how."

I look up at him confused, and he chuckles, the grim line of his mouth turning upward for just a second. "The wind is strong. It usually is followed by storm-bearing clouds."

"What's so bad about a bit of rain?" I ask, watching as he rolls his shoulders, bothered. I wish there was a way I could just whisk all the pressure away from him.

"During drought season, a heavy rain can make the hillside over-saturated. Unstable. Chances of a cataclysmic event increase exponentially," he says. Reaching down, he brushes aside a bed of dried red pine needles to reveal the cracked ground. Digging in, he scoops up a handful of dirt.

"See how dry the soil is?" It is practically dust as it falls through his fingers, gray and fine, barely leaving residue on his hands. "That tells me it has not rained in a very long time. If this storm brings enough moisture, especially on the slope, there is a chance there could be a landslide."

Wolves, Skinwalkers, Landslides... There are a thousand ways to die in the Outlands. Being immersed in this volatile, dangerous land has shown me that there are risks at every turn. Do we risk going forward toward the storm, and being washed away with a landslide? What other option do we have?

"What should we do, Luke?" Over the last few days, I've overcome my reluctance to ask Luke for help. It is clear that he knows what he is doing, and he doesn't seem to be bothered by my reliance on him. If I didn't know any better, I would say that he's even enjoying it.

He ponders for a minute, gauging the wind. "We will not be able to reach the next safe house by tonight if we choose to wait out the storm. But if we continue on as we are, the path will be impassable in the rain. I would not risk slipping in the mud and plunging down the mountain side." He shifts, eyes softening and offers me a friendly nudge. "It is your decision."

I would hate to delay our arrival in Perseca. Every minute that we spend debating is one more minute Markee is the Summus' prisoner.

"Let's just go as far as we can. We can stop when the rain starts." A glance up at Luke shows me his approval. We will walk until we can walk no more.