We run for hours in the dark, it seems, my
side burning, my lungs on fire. The only thing keeping me going is
Dylan—he’s more athletic than I am and I’m only slowing him down,
but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter. Instead he pulls me along
after him, and when I start to lag, he’s there with a hand on my
arm to help me along, how much farther? I mean, really. My legs are
starting to quiver, they ache so bad, and my feet—what I wouldn’t
give for my boots again, but I don’t know what happened to them. I
took them off before we laid down and never had a chance to put
them back on before we were arrested, but this floor is hard on my
feet and these slipper shoes the colonists wear aren’t much at all.
How long have we been running like this? “Dylan, wait,” I gasp,
trying to catch my b
