“And what exactly are we going to do once we get there?” I ask, shaking my hair out. There are still bits and leaves stuck in it so I slowly pick them out before pulling my hair up into a ponytail again. I don’t exactly have a hair tie but Creed gave me a length of paracord at some point so it does the job just enough to be effective.

Achilles glances at me and raises his brow. “We’ll figure it out once we get there, rabbit.”

“Would you stop calling me that?” I growl. “Before I slice your Achilles tendons and let you live up to your name.”

Surprise lights his eyes. “Oh, you know your mythology.”

“She’s smart, dumbass,” Creed interrupts. “Has like three degrees. If you’d have listened, you’d have known that.”

“What he said,” I add like a child and stick out my tongue for good measure.

Achilles only shakes his head and continues prepping the small fire we’ll use to quickly cook our meals. I’m getting tired of not being able to keep the fire going but I understand why we can’t, especially when we don’t have somewhere protected. We’re just in the middle of the forest right now, open for all to see. While the Prey and Hounds have grown sparse along our journey, they pop up at the worst fucking times. I can just imagine them appearing while we’re cooking out food, distracting us, and the food getting burnt to a crisp. I’d be pissed. Getting comfortable now isn’t an option. Just because we have numbers doesn’t mean we’re guaranteed safety.

I’m not a survivalist and even I know that.

I look over at Row, at the way he’s slumped and sitting, and figure he could use some time to regroup.

“I think I saw a stream off to the right a little,” I announce. “Give me your canteens and I’ll fill them up.”

“You can’t go alone—” Creed starts.

“Row will come help me,” I say quickly. When he looks up, I add, “won’t you, Row?”

Achilles snorts. “They’re both going to die.”

Row’s eyes narrow on Achilles, as if he’s considering shooting the asshole between the eyes. I don’t blame him. The guy is being insufferable lately. Then again, he’s never not been an asshole, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at the fact that everyone has considered pushing him off a cliff at least once. Hell, I’ve thought about kissing him and then shoving him off a cliff. What kind of harlot does that make me? I’d argue the best kind personally.

“Hurry back,” Jiro instructs, handing over his canteen.