Conlan sat astride Rand, hunched under a thick blanket, while Will and Freddie walked on either side of him, to steady him over uneven ground. It was cold and getting colder, but as Eleanor walked side-by-side with Amelia, following Rand up the path, she barely felt it. This had little to do with the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders, internally she felt energised, excited and safe all at the same time. The exhaustion was still under the surface and the knife wound ached miserably under the bandage Will had carefully applied while Amelia and Freddie had removed the evidence of the fight, yet nothing could destroy the out-of-place joy she felt. “Amelia, the others… The ones who killed themselves… Did they go mad first?” Amelia glanced at her, then turned back to concentrate on the path. “I imagine you’ve got to be a little disturbed to kill yourself. Why do you ask?” Eleanor shrugged. “I just have this strange feeling, this bizarre energy; I should be dead on my feet, but I feel like I could run a marathon.”
