Hidden (Book 3 of the Immune Series)

In the Woods

Mya

We walk for a long time in silence.

Sakir's steps equal two of my own. He moves with grace over the roots that stretch across the ground, dodging low hanging branches and brushing past thorns. I stumble along behind him like a cow, tearing through the woods. I trip more than once, landing on my knees.

Sakir always stops, reaching a strong hand down to held me up.

I mumble an embarrassed thanks, wiping the leaves, dirt, and blood off my bare kneecaps. I'm still wearing the shorts from the day before, but luckily, I thought to grab a sweater out of the closet before I left. It's wrinkled but warm, and it smells like Finn.

The longer we walk, the colder it gets. The woods around us are quiet, but it's a kind of silence that's full of animation. Squirrels jump from branch to branch above our heads. Birds flit silently through the trees, casting lengthy shadows on our shoulders and backs. The wind cuts through the trees, filling the air with a low whistle and constant rustle.

Finn would love it out here. He would walk with his hands behind his head, tilting it back to feel the warmth of the sun on his face. His shirt would be tied around his waist like a belt.

With every squirrel that jumps over us, I think about how excited he would be to see wildlife.

Once, when we were young, one of the red animals fell out of a branch that hung over the fence. Finn scooped it up and held it in his palm.

"I'm going to nurse it back to health," I said, petting the unconscious baby squirrel with two fingers.

"I'm pretty sure it's already dead, Mya."

"Don't be so pessimistic," I scolded, taking it from him. He chuckled, following me into the house.

"I'm a realist, not a pessimist."

"Same thing."

The baby squirrel died that night, but Finn had been the one to hold it, to stroke its tiny head, and to hum to it. As hard as he acted, he had a soft spot for animals.

I swallow back another bout of tears, focusing instead on the nonexistent path ahead of us. Sakir pushes branches to the side as we walk, sometimes forgetting I'm behind him and letting them go too early. They smack my body with fierce whips, leaving my face covered in welts.

Would my twin approve of what I've done? Was it stupid of me to trust this complete stranger with guiding me through miles of thick forest when neither of us know the way? Would Finn call me brave or stupid?

Probably stupid.

He would say it with a smirk on his face and two timid dimples, though.

"Hey, Sakir," I say. Why not get to know the stranger?

He glances over his shoulder at me, humming.

"We should get to know each other," I continue, tripping over a rock, "since we are stuck together for who knows how long."

Sakir nods, turning back around.

"Ask away," he mumbles.

Finn always talked too much, and now, I'm caught in the company of someone who doesn't.

If I don't fill the silence with words, though, I'm going to fill it with sobs. I can already feel the depression swelling back up like a thick, black ocean, rising up and over my ankles and wrists, and threatening to pull me into the bed of leaves beneath my feet.

"Um, okay. Where are you from?"

"Compound 2," he answers, not offering any further explanation.