I trudge on, following closely behind. The silence between us is heavy, with the sound of our footsteps on the crumbled leaves being the only noise between us.
After what feels like hours of walking, I break the silence, saying, “Aren’t we going to pass through your pack?” when I see we aren’t anywhere near where his pack lives. But what do I know? This could be the way leading to where his pack lives. But then again, up ahead I can see a road, so that probably means we aren’t going to pass through his pack.
Mace seems startled by my question. Or maybe he is startled by me speaking because I’ve been quiet the entire time. He schools his face and says, “No. It’s safer this way.”
I don’t question him about it, so I nod and stare ahead. We spend about ten minutes walking, and the trees d
