By the time the sun rises high enough above the trees to blind me, I’m too tired to keep walking. The wound in my hip flares with fresh pain at each step, sending slivers stabbing up my side and into my shoulder until every movement pinches my neck and makes my vision swim. I last ate…when? Last night, evening meal, gruel I devoured because I knew I’d need my strength, but it didn’t help much. I’m barely trotting anymore. The run in me is gone. If the guards found me now, there wouldn’t be much of a fight. I might even go back with them willingly if they promised the anesthetic touch of a suture laser for my wound. Anything to end this pain.
But you’re free.
It’s a small whisper, barely audible above the whine of the voice inside my head, the endless screaming that will drive me mad if
