The day came and went far smoother than I would have anticipated. The woods here are calm. Almost too calm. And almost worse, in that entire time, I was alone. Utterly alone. Not so much as a cricket to be heard.

  Part of that is comforting, for nothing has been trying to peel the skin off my bones, but a bigger part of that sets every fiber of my being on edge. I woke up at least three times an hour while I tried to sleep last night, the slightest rustle of leaves filling me with bursts of anxiety not even a cig could have helped soothe.

  It’s already midday and so far I’ve continued to only see trees. Each trunk is tall and slender, scattered mere inches apart, leaving very little room to weave through. The lean beasts are starchy white, but decorated in black spots that sprawl from root to branch. The light green leaves are small and round, shaking together in a near constant, eerie rattle. These trees are peculiar, the sense of something being off like an itch you can’t scratch.

  I’m actively pushing that thought to the back of my mind. It’s not something I can dwell on for long, not when I only have my thoughts to keep me company. But it seems that no amount of distractions can help the feeling of restlessness growing like mold in my mind.

  Every twig that snaps has me pulling out my blade, every rattle of leaves makes my heart skip a beat. The black spots on the trees look too much like eyes, too much like deformed faces, making me believe a figure lies ahead, only to find it was an illusion.

  I glance down at my right hand for what seems like the millionth time. The markings are growing grayer with each step I take, a mystery I can’t figure out. They also keep shifting, each mark moving slightly as I get further and further from where I came. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t actually feel like anything, it’s just…happening. If I wasn’t watching the Moon so intently, I probably wouldn’t know they were moving at all. But they definitely are, there is no doubt in my mind about that.

  But that’s not the only thing that’s changing about the markings. The feelings I get from them are growing clearer, stronger, more frequent. I keep getting flurries of pain, worry, sorrow. Misery, hopelessness, and dread. Some are feelings I’ve never felt before, or have and the tie was weaker, less identifiable. Something about coming to Neidra has made the bond stronger, and I’m desperate to figure it out.

  The feelings weren’t as strong when I was in the jungle, or maybe I was too exhausted to notice them. They’ve occurred regularly since I entered these woods, especially the feelings of dread. Whoever this bond is connected to is struggling, and terribly worried about something.

  It makes me sick to my stomach. My skin keeps prickling with anticipation, my thoughts obsessively going back to the marks and the feelings coming through them. I can’t help it, I know I should be thinking about my plan, about my mom, about where I should even be going, but the only thing my mind can hold onto is the bond. Is helping whoever is on the other side. Finding them. Seeing them with my own two eyes, if only to be sure they are alright.

  ? ? ?

  The Sun has just begun to dip behind the trees, the orange glow washing over the ground I’m bored out of my mind constantly staring at. I still haven’t come across anything, not even a stream, which is going to be problematic any second now. My mouth is drier than I imagine Shavira to be.

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  As the Sun continues to fall in a graceful arc, I begin looking for a space between the trees that will work for sleeping. Most of the gaps are no wider than my waist, only a few having enough room to squeeze between, leaving me continuously searching for a suitable spot.

  Finally stumbling across an area that will do, I all but throw myself onto the ground, settling into the itchy grass, trying to ignore the looming forest that has no beginning or end.

  I turn to the darkening sky. There aren’t any clouds, the view perfect for stargazing. And as the bright balls of light begin to twinkle into view, they help soothe a part of my relentless thoughts, allowing me to take a deep breath. The night sky has always been a source of peace for me, something about the unimaginable space beyond intriguing and humbling entirely.

  Trying to adjust between the trees, I release a sigh. It’s nowhere near a perfect fit, my sides hugged so tight by the trees that I feel like I’m in a coffin. But I’m not complaining. I’ve slept in far worse places than this.

  My heart does a silly little throb at the thought of the MADD house. I don’t really miss it; not the food, definitely not the General. I don’t miss the guys either. Well, not most of them anyway. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t miss Thomas’ contant cig dealing shenanigans, or Carter’s kindness, and I do really miss seeing Reed’s shit eating grin. Maybe I care about them more than I’d thought…But it doesn’t matter now, does it? I may never see any of them again. I probably won’t.

  The thought sends a pain through my gut, but I push it away as soon as it starts. Sure, the boys were helpful in the compound, where life is run by a system of kill or be killed. But thinking about them here will get me nowhere but distracted and inevitably dead. Call it trust issues, but it's the only way I know how to survive. After my family, after Luca…I can’t do it. I can’t allow myself the vulnerability it takes to care about someone, to love someone. Not anymore.

  Obviously this way of living is lonely, so lonely that sometimes it feels like my soul is being smashed into unsalvageable pieces, but I just…I just can’t.

  If I’d had a chance outside the compound I may have allowed myself to open back up again. But that hope was destroyed years ago. Right about at the same time I realized that I wouldn’t leave the compound as the same person I arrived as. I don’t see myself changing back anytime soon either.

  Wiggling onto my side, my body curls up like a cat. My thoughts have been spiraling with nobody to talk to, and sleeping is no better. I’ve been having strange dreams the last two nights. First it was the group of people who seemed way too familiar, one of the boys being the same man who found me in that underground mud pit. Last night it was flashes of the same faces, some of them new, though not nearly as clear, and only briefly.

  Gods, it was frustrating. I would reach for the images, desperate to get my hands on what they were, who they were. But by the time I was nearly there, they would disappear. Almost like I was trying to catch smoke between my fingers.

  A sharp prang of fear steers me away from my thoughts. The night kissed feeling buzzes through my body so intensely I almost forget that the feeling isn’t mine. My heart lurches as the feeling continues to build. It reminds me of all the hours I’ve spent in the General’s office-

  Wait- if I can feel the other side of the bond’s emotions, do they feel mine too? Are they as connected to me as I am to them? Have they felt the pain I felt at the General’s hand, or the agony that plagued me for months after my family died? Have they felt my exhaustion after the morning runs, the terror I felt when I saw the kraj two days ago? How have I never thought about that before?

  Guilt swells in my stomach to a physical extent. This being, whoever they may be, goes through enough as it is. They don’t need all of my extra baggage on top of everything they’re feeling on their own.

  Falling asleep with guilt and sadness on my mind, it is no surprise my dreams are consumed with blood and demise.