“It isn’t fair.” I rubbed both hands over my face, suddenly very, very tired. “The Territorial Council doesn’t care much about fair. They have to put the good of the group above the good of the individual, and right now some of them think I’m a threat to the group.”

She pulled the T-shirt over her head and tugged it into place. Then she shoved her trembling hands into her pockets and took a deep breath, meeting my eyes with fear in her own. “Are they going to kill you?”

Apparently a sense of decorum doesn’t come into play until late adolescence. But even I recognized the incongruity in that thought; my mouth had gotten me in far more trouble than my fists ever had.

I met her eyes, doing my best to project honesty in my voice. “I don’t know. Maybe. But it’s not over yet. They haven’t even decided on a verdict so far, much less a sentence.”

Kaci nodded as if she understood, but her face had gone pale with fear, and suddenly I realized my mistake. If they were willing to execute me for my crimes, it stood to reason that they might execute her, too. I’d just given her cause to fear for her life among those I’d sworn would protect her.

But the rules of the game had changed with the discovery of Bob Tindale’s body, and I couldn’t reassure Kaci when she hadn’t even told me what had happened yet. She had no idea I knew about the hikers.

Too on edge to sit now, I folded a pair of khakis, then put them in the bottom drawer of the closest dresser. “Kaci, how long have you been here?” She shook her head, obviously thrown off by the change of subject, so I tried again. “In these woods, on this mountain?”

“I…I don’t know.” Her eyes narrowed in thought, and her hand absently stroked the sleeve of the pink sweater on the bed next to her. “What day is it?”

“November thirteenth.”

Her eyes closed, and her pulse spiked noticeably. “November?” When she looked at me again, her eyes were glazed with fear, highlighting the pale green in a sea of deep brown. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I forced a small smile and bent to pick up a package of athletic socks that had fallen on the floor. “What month did you think it was?”

“I don’t know.” She half turned toward the window, her gaze going unfocused as she stared at the trees in the distance. “I knew it had gotten colder out, obviously, but the last time…When I…” Her mouth closed firmly, and she sank onto the bed facing me, without bothering to shove the clothes over. “August. It was the end of August.”

Whoa. She’d been on her own for two and a half months. Not weeks. Months.