We need the food. We need the supplies. But most of all, we need this to go right.

If it does, we stand a chance.

* * *

We talk until deep into the morning, until everyone flags with fatigue and filters out. Everything feels like a responsibility now in ways it never did before. I beckon Logan and pull her aside before she can leave for her room too.

Logan reddens, and when the hallway around us quiets, she starts to sign, but I cut her off.

“Logan, wait. I need to get this off my chest.” I’m so tired, my voice is trembling, but I force my temper to stay down and keep my anger in check. “I didn’t get to chance to say this before, and I want to. I know why you left me behind in Sam’s Throne. I understand it—hell, I’m glad you did. Obviously, the risk paid off.”

Logan nods, tentatively.

My hands clench. “But it was thoughtless and dangerous. Not just for you, for both of us. When we go hunting and gathering, we go in pairs so we can keep each other safe. I was terrified and exposed out there. I had no one to keep watch for me. I didn’t know where you’d gone to or how to get you back. All I could do was imagine coming back here to tell your sister and Nia I’d lost you, and it damn near broke me.”

Logan’s shoulders drop at those words. Something in her face crumbles. “I’m sorry,” she signs. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I reach out a hand to her, but I wait for Logan’s nod of permission before I squeeze her shoulder. “It’s okay, it all worked out. But I need you to know I was worried about you. And I will be worried about you when you go into town for the food drop. You and Nia and Emerson. You matter to us, you’re a part of us, and I want you to be safe.” I sigh, and midway, it turns into an exhausted yawn. I frown at my hand. “So, next time you feel the need to go investigating in spite of my disapproval, please tell me. And when you go with Nia, please be careful.”

Some of the tension leaves Logan’s stance, and she nods.

I let go of her shoulder. “Thank you.”

Logan signs a goodbye and makes her way back to her room.

I don’t follow. I step closer to the wall and lean my forehead against the rough stone. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply. Once. Twice. Several times. I clench and unclench my hands by my side, but the tension that courses through me refuses to leave my body. It simmers right below my skin, and it settles around my spine.

When I shake my arms out and push myself up again, I spot another figure just around the corner to the room. Emerson leans against the wall, their brow furrowed but a soft smile around their eyes. “You didn’t explode at her.”