Cold. Silence. Hands on my arms. Cold again. Voices I hear but can not understand. Hands again. On my arms, my head. I am pulled under an arm in an embrace I am sure is supposed to make me feel better. It doesn't.

I don't feel anything except the sinking in my chest and my heart pumping the blood through my veins, hard and fast. I hear it muffled in my ears.

The civil militia just told us the news. Rhett was nowhere in Herald to be found. This was their final effort.

My big brother is not coming home.

My lungs burn from lack of oxygen. This isn't my first panic attack, but I've never had one this intense.

Someone--I think it's Mom--sits me down in one of our plush living chairs. Her lips move as if she's speaking to me, but I don't hear words. I hear Rhett telling me to run. Over and over and over again.

Run, Sophie!

Run!

Run!

And then I hear the crack of his skull hitting the woodland floor. I can only see the Outlander hovering over him.

Then I see the leaf-littered ground blur as I run away from Rhett and his assailant.

"Breathe, honey." Dad's voice breaks through the rumination, interrupting my compulsive focus. I try to take a breath, but it comes out a sharp, shuddering intake of a very small amount of air. The pressure in my chest lifts ever so slightly.

Why did I ever leave him?

◊ ◊ ◊

I don't realize I'm trembling until Luke leans down, placing a hand on my knee. I look down at my hands, shaking like leaves in a hurricane.

"Are you alright?" Luke asks. The concern in his voice fuels my panic. It sounds wrong. Everything is wrong. We should not be out here. We should have had shelter for the night. We are losing sunlight. There is dirt caked beneath my fingernails.

I can't breathe.

The heaviness in my chest reaches a point to where I feel lightheaded, as if I'm on the verge of fainting.

As if realizing what is happening, Luke kneels next to me on the ground and slips his hand from my knee to my chin, gently lifting my eyes to his.

"It's okay, we will figure it out" he promises. I can feel his breath on my cheek. "I need you to breathe, Sophie." I focus on the brightness of his irises, forever deep and impossibly green. Crisp green apples and pears in Market Circle. Ticklish blades of grass on my toes. Minty winter. I inhale.

I borrow Luke's calm, steadfast demeanor as I suck in quick, shaky breaths. The stone on my chest begins to evaporate one bit at a time.

The next thing I know, Luke is crushing me to his chest, squeezing my shoulders. The pressure is a surprising security, and I find myself leaning into him, craving his warmth.

"There you go," he speaks softly next to my ear. My body trembles within the circle of his arms, and he runs his hand up and down my spine. With each sweep, he coaxes my muscles to relax and eventually, the shaking ceases.

We stay like that for a moment, until my breaths become steady and my heart rate beats at a less alarming pace. Luke's hands light on the small of my back, supportive. Calming. But at the same time, exciting.

"Better?" he murmurs, his voice taking up the small space between us. Yes, Perfect. But I am unable to command my mouth to form the words. I'm afraid to look at him. Scared to fracture the delicate moment. I find solace in the well-worn threads of his shirt, the fabric soft against my cheek. The heart beating strongly beneath it.

Too soon do his hands leave me, pulling away only to grip my shoulders lighty. He looks down at me, examining my face with worried eyes.

"What can I do, Sophie?" Luke's voice is low and soothing. An electric tingle sparks my consciousness when I realize that this is the first time he's spoken my name.

"I'm sorry," I croak. It's fascinating, watching his eyebrows knit a picture of confusion.

"No," he admonishes. "You have nothing to apologize for." His thumb caresses the skin of my shoulder. "I've had them too. It is not some flaw you must be sorry for."

My breath threatens to leave me again. "You? You've had panic attacks?"

His face still for a moment, then he shrugs. "When you are the Summus' only son, there is a lot to be expected of you."

He looks to the west where the sun is shrinking behind the trees and sighs. "Help me secure our surroundings and I will tell you all about it. Anything you want to know."

I jump at the chance to be useful, but Luke offering to talk to me about anything is an added bonus.

After helping me up, we scour the surrounding forest for any signs of fresh tracks and spread Sol's pepper deterrent. I can tell we aren't being as thorough as Luke wants to because of the low light. Apparently, we can't have a fire this evening either. It may attract unwanted attention when we have no shelter. No safe haven.

When we get back to our makeshift camp, Luke rolls out our bedrolls in the shadow of the dilapidated building. The placement shields us from the breeze so the wind doesn't carry our scent far. Luke thinks of every littlest detail to ensure our safety in such dire circumstances.

By the time we settle down for dinner, it's pitch dark outside. As we share the roasted rabbit and drink from our canteens, I think of the questions I'd like for him to answer.

I swallow my last bite of the tough meat, and decide to just breach the subject. "What kind of duties do you have? As the Subter?" I ask, curious to know more about their society, but also him.

He smirks. "Do you want to know what I am supposed to do, or what I actually do?" I figured he had a rebellious streak, the way he opposed his father back in Keir.

"Both," I grin.

Laying back on his elbows, he looks to the sky, as if searching its depths for the answers. "As the heir, I am supposed to follow my father around and pretend I am just like him. Sit in on advisor meetings, oversee crop production, introduce various economical and defensive strategies, and sit on my big throne acting untouchable." He lowers his gaze to my face, looking for my reaction. "What I really do is spend less amount of time sitting and talking about change, and actually doing it."

He sits up, impassioned by the line of conversation. "Our people are living in fear, on the verge of starvation, with a dropping population. All due to one thing." He looks at me pointedly, encouraging me to say what is on the tip of my tongue.

"The Skinwalkers," I mumble. There is a sea-green ocean of emotion in his eyes. This is a problem that he's trying to solve alone, one that took his mother and left him in a world where nothing is safe.

"I go out and hunt the woods that are more dangerous, simply to save a family from starving this winter. I want to fight the Skinwalkers instead of just waiting for another attack." He brushes a hand down his face, worry tainting his features. "It has been getting worse. I have to travel farther and farther these days for big game. I'm always on the road... my father does not understand, much less share my opinion on the matter."

My heart is breaking for this man, doing everything he can to help his people, but it never being enough. I get it. Completely.

"You and your father could not be more different," I offer, remembering the manipulative look in the Summus' eyes when he blackmailed me into going on this mission. It was nothing like how Luke looks at me now.

"He really thinks you can help us," he muses. "No offense, but I do not see how."

I grin at that. Finally, something we agree on. "I have no idea either," I answer, not the least bit offended. "But I will try to help."

He sighs, "It was wrong of him to use your friend." I realize then that I'm not doing this just for Markee. I have an overwhelming drive to help Luke too.

I'm nervous about my next question. I don't want to overstep any boundaries, but I am so terribly curious.

"As the heir, do you have, you know..." I clear my throat, nervous, "...a betrothed?"

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 am 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 heard 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 my 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 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 say thank you? 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?

____________________________

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