She plunked her toes against the shallow puddle that had formed, amazed at how everything about it could be so real—the crackling, the cold—even when she knew it wasn’t. Sighing, she raised her head, weary as she was, to watch the haphazard training sessions happening all down the dusty street. Maneuvers and tactics, a hundred trained soldiers doing their best to build an army. She scanned the crowd for Scarlet’s flaming hair, not sure where her friend had gone off to. Instead of seeing Scarlet, her gaze caught on something else entirely. A head of pale hair near the back of the crowd. Her heart lurched. Inhaling a shaky breath, she pulled herself from the bench, but he was already gone. Her gaze darted over all the faces, searching. Hoping. She clenched her fists at her sides, willing away the sudden rush of euphoria. It was her desperation causing her to see phantoms. She missed him so much. She still didn’t know if he was even alive. She supposed it was to be expected that she would see his face in every crowd, around every corner.
