Without the steeper hills and deeper valleys the terrain was easier to traverse, but the lack of trees, at first a blessing, became a curse also – shelter from the wind and the sun difficult to find, and everything sooted and black, crisped by old fires. My leg hampered me for the first couple of nights, until I was able to settle into the pain and push it aside. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The closer we got to the Citadel, the more on edge we became, snarling and snapping at each other, counting down every step. Of all of us, only Alex continued to remain relaxed, almost remote, removed from her surroundings and the horror that awaited her. And so it was she who, with a look or a touch, calmed tempers and halted arguments. It was she who, with a shake of her head, stopped me from punching Ballard when he suggested we turn east and find the road. It was she who spent hours with her brother and Tate, comforting and encouraging them, saying her farewells. It was she who, every morning when I removed the gag so she could rest more comfortably, would say her thanks before curling up beside me.
