Lydia
The movement of the semi-truck makes me woozy. Jesse lets me rest my head on her lap as it's more comfortable than the metal floor of the truck. She and I have been leaning on each other. Having someone I can talk to makes this experience more bearable.
"What’s it like in your packlands?” Jesse asks. “I’ve never been.”
“It’s cold there. Lots of trees. We’re on the border with Sardonia,” I answer, getting lost in memories of my home. “Winter lasts longer than most places, but I love it. There’s nothing like running through the snow and hunting buffalo with my brothers.”
“I’m an only child. What’s it like having brothers?”
“They’re the worst–and the best. I wanted to kill all of them so many times growing up, but I know that they would kill for me, and I would do the same for them
