The night pressed down on me, cold and quiet in a way that never meant safety anymore. I leaned against the tree with my head resting on the bark, eyes half closed as the fire in front of me cracked and shifted. The sound was small, but it carried in the dark. Everything did.
I did not know how many days it had been since I left that place. Time blurred when you were alone long enough. It stopped feeling real. It just became something you moved through.
Still, I had managed.
The bag beside me sat half open. Matches. A few loaded magazines. A Glock 19. The hunting rifle rested against the tree within arm's reach. I had taken it off one of Annie's people before I walked out. I had not thought twice about it.
The map lay unfolded across my thigh. I had marked it myself, lines cutting through roads and forests, places I thought I could pass through without getting killed. It was messy, but it was something.
Canada.
I let out a slow breath.
Yeah... Canada.
