We’re burning through our remaining gas fast, and the dogs are showing no signs of slowing. If only there was somewhere to ride the bikes up and out of the crater, but it’s too steep.

Suddenly, I hear a scream. I look back and see Molly’s bike careening away as she and Charlie tumble to the ground.

“Charlie!” Bree screams.

The wolf-dogs pounce on them straightaway. I turn my bike around and race straight at them. Thankfully, they’re scared off and run away.

I leap off the bike and run over to where Molly and Charlie are sprawled on the ground, Molly cowering over him, protecting him with her whole body. I grab her by the shoulders and roll her back. There’s a huge pool of blood there.

Charlie wriggles out and flies right into Bree’s arms. Molly lies there panting, gritting her teeth in agony.

The dogs have torn a hole in her calf so deep I can see the bone. The sight turns my stomach. Ryan removes his shirt and bandages her up, but it soaks up with blood within a matter of moments. He looks back at me gravely.

“We can’t stay here,” I say. “There could be more packs waiting to get us. Can you walk, Molly?”

She tries to stand on her bitten leg but the second she puts weight on it she cries out in pain. I look up at the sheer face of the crater. Not only are we going to have to climb, but we’re going to have to carry Molly. There’s no way we’ll be able to push the bikes up while carrying her at the same time. We’re going to have to abandon them. From here on out, we’re going by foot.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

My feet are blistered and swollen. My mouth is parched. I have no idea how long we’ve been walking. It feels like days. In fact, I think it has been days. The sun has set and risen several times.

With one hand, I cling onto Bree. She’s so weak it reminds me of the time back in the mountain cabin when she had a fever. If she had been well enough to travel with me to the cabin I’d found, where would we be now? Would we still be safe in the mountains, hiding from the slaverunners? Would I have avoided fighting in the arenas and being forced to become a murderer? Or would we have perished in the mountains? There would always have been something waiting to finish us off. Death seems to lurk around every corner.

I don’t even know if we’re heading in the right direction, but I pretend that we are to the others. I don’t want them to lose hope.