The Revolution (Book 3 of The Exiles series)

Twelve: Talia

We walked, it seemed, for nothing short of a lifetime, the days blurring together in a haze of cool air and crisp water; bland, but warm food, and nights spent huddled in windbreakers with the hoods pulled up beneath a canvas of stars.

Out here, the world was wild and untamed, completely unaware of Avalon's cruel wrath. At night, the sky was black instead of a sickly brown-orange color due to the lack of light pollution. There were no paths or trails to show us our way through the endless woods and meadows that we traipsed through day after day, week after week, so we followed the directions of Max and his crew that hummed in our eardrums. We were wet, muddy, cold, sunburned and bothered by various pains from lying on the ground and being bitten by insects, but we were alive and steadily making our way further south. The days were long and the weather mild. So far we'd been lucky.

But that did nothing to reduce the tension. Ever since the fire, Nicole and I had been on mostly non speaking terms. At most, I was ordered to do something or given directions to follow.

Nicole fashioned some spears and hunted for new food--although she came up empty most of the time. When she was gone, Magnus and I talked without feeling like we were hiding something.

One day that was warmer than usual, we stopped at a large, sparkling lake to get water, eat, and attempt to clean ourselves off. Believe it or not, there weren't any showers out in the open on our journey, so we kind of needed to stop.

Nicole and I split from Magnus, leaving him with our supplies out of view from the lake, and hurried for the water.

"It's nice today, isn't it?" Nicole remarked easily, almost casually, like we hadn't not spoken in days. She peeled the dirty jumpsuit from her body, stepping out of it like a snake emerging from her sweaty, dirt-encrusted skin.

I nodded absently, yanked my greasy hair up from the zipper of my outfit and slid it off as well. "Warmer than usual," I said, peeling away the sleeves and leg holes. At the absence of fabric in the warm for March, but not warm for summer temperatures, the dark hair on my legs stuck straight up. I couldn't remember the last time I hadn't been wearing this outfit, much less shaved. "I can't say I've been this warm since the fire."

Nicole stopped wringing out her outfit over the clear, shallow water and glared at me. I raised both eyebrows. "I take it you remember, then," I said bitterly.

Her feet planted and her hands rose up to her hips. Sounding exasperated already, she started, "Talia, of course I--" but I cut her off with the silent raising of my hand.

"Can we have a civilized conversation, like, once?" I asked, already irritated. "Both of us know what you did. Clearly you wanted him dead."

Nicole's eyes widened, her face slackening momentarily before her brows furrowed. "For the last time, Talia, I wasn't trying to hurt or kill anyone," she retorted. "You told me what to do, and I did it. You were the one that went in there for him. Can't you have any faith in me?"

I chewed my bottom lip. "It would help if you had faith in me."

Nicole frowned before dropping her outfit on the beach and striding towards me, wearing nothing but a tank top and underwear. She placed both of her hands on my shoulders, stooping down just slightly to meet my eyes. "Talia, how in the world could you think that I didn't have any faith in you?" she asked softly. "I've always respected you: your choices, your--"

A barking laugh drew itself from my lips. "That is such a lie," I said, forcing her hands from me and storming towards the water. Her hurried footsteps followed me, but before she could lay a hand on me I wrenched her away.

I stopped and turned to face her. "Please don't touch me," I said, my voice dangerous. "Don't act like I'm a child that you have to protect or something."