Page 13 of Citadel

She gives a slow nod. “Yeah. Yeah, we can do that. Just please don’t be hurt or surprised when he leaves.”

“Okay.”

I say that to end the conversation since I’m anxious and upset now.

And I have no idea whether I should believe her or not.

“Get moving!” Cole calls from ahead of us. He’s turned around and is glaring at us disapprovingly.

“We’re coming,” Breanna replies, giving my arm a tug as we hurry to catch up with him.

When we reach him, Cole is searching my face with narrowed eyes. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing,” Breanna says with a smile.

He doesn’t believe her. “What did you say to upset her?”

“She didn’t say anything. I’m not upset.”

It’s a lie. And it’s one none of the three of us believe.

* * *

Later that afternoon we come to a river. A big one with deep water. I learned the Virginia rivers back in third grade and can generally remember their names, but I don’t have a clear enough mental map to identify which one this might be.

When I ask, Cole says it’s the James River. It’s too bad it’s flowing east because it would be so easy to tie together a somewhat seaworthy raft and let it carry us across the long distance we’re hiking. But we’re going the opposite way, and at least the river gives a clear route to follow.

It also provides much better water than what we’ve been able to find in creeks and streams. That evening, Breanna and I take baths in the river, and I feel clean—genuinely clean without salt on my skin—for the first time in ages.

It feels kind of strange to take off my clothes with Cole standing like a statue on the shore, his rifle at the ready and his back to us. He doesn’t appear inclined to peek. In fact, he acts completely unconscious of us except to grumble for us to hurry up when we take too long.

We have no towels, so we have to air-dry until we’re just barely damp. Then we get dressed.

I offer for Cole to take a bath in the river too while we keep watch for danger, but he refuses.

He’s taught us how to use both his rifle and his pistol, but he doesn’t trust us with them yet. Being clean is less of a priority to him than avoiding being vulnerable.

I guess I don’t blame him.

I’m still shivering from getting so wet, so he builds a campfire. We need to boil more drinking water anyway.

He walks into the woods while we’re working on the water and comes back a few minutes later with a very large dead snake.

Breanna shies away from it, but after he cooks up the meat, it’s not half-bad. Even Breanna eats some. Food is food, and we can’t afford to be picky when our only other choice is to starve.

When we’ve finished eating, Cole stalks around the perimeter of the camp like normal. Always, always on guard.

Breanna leans over and pulls off my cap. She shakes off some dirt and dead leaves before she hands it back to me. “Your hair is growing.”

I run a hand along my scalp, feeling the fine stubble of hair. It’s probably half an inch long now. It’s been almost a month since I’ve shaved my head. “Yeah. I guess so. Haven’t really thought about it.”

“Are you going to shave it again or grow it out?”

“I don’t know.” I rub my hair again. I actually like the way it feels against my palm. I wonder how I’d look with longer hair. It’s been years since I saw myself with anything longer than it is right now. “It’s easier with it shaved.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.” Breanna’s own vivid red hair is longer than her shoulders and pulled into a single french braid.

“Maybe I’ll let it grow some just to see how I like it. If it gets on my nerves, I can shave it off again.”

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