Rather than court constant thoughts of being attacked by the Fury, I found my thoughts drifting to the world beyond this mountain. What did it look like? It had been over ten years since I’d seen cars on streets. Would I really see that? What about clothes, like jeans and T-shirts and pretty shoes? Did they still exist?

And movies. I used to love watching Disney movies before we’d moved to Haven Valley. The Little Mermaid had been my favorite. So many of the stories I told the children in Haven Valley came from those memories of wild cartoon adventures. Mary Poppins too. And The Sound of Music. And books. What I would give to steal away and read a novel filled with adventure and romance!

How many times had I imagined the dangers that awaited anyone who dared cross the perimeter? But all I saw now was beauty growing from the ground, from the treetops, from the sides of cliffs. Not a monstrous thing could be seen.

The lack of death and destruction was so surprising to me that I began to embrace the wonder of it all. After three hours, that wonder gave way to a kind of jubilation.

“It’s going to be okay, Lukas,” I muttered, forgetting that Jamie was with me.

“Yes it is, Lukas,” he said. He skipped ahead and jumped up on a rock. “It’s going to be more than okay, little brother!” Then to me, eyes wild with excitement: “Just think, Grace! All those things you used to love, they’re waiting for us just over this rise.”

“Really? We’re that close?”

“Closer than you would guess.” He jumped down. “Strawberry, right?”

“Strawberry?”

“Your favorite ice cream flavor. Before coming here.”

I couldn’t help but grin at the thought. “Yes.”

“So imagine eating as much strawberry ice cream as you like. And staying up all night watching movies. And falling in love with someone you choose.”

The thought carried me away. It sounded both scandalous and wonderful at once.

“You could do other things too!” he said, spinning in a circle. “The world would be our oyster. Cars and video games and girls—”

“Jamie!”

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t think about it. What would you wear if you could?”

I didn’t have to think long, and no one could hear us. “A red dress?”

“A red dress!” He swayed like a dancer in a dress.

“And red lipstick!”

He made the motion of painting makeup on his face. “Made up like a peacock with as many colors as you can imagine. You could be the peacock writer, spinning a hundred stories that everyone would line up to read.”

“You think?” I was grinning now, caught up in the fantasy.

“Why not? It’s what you’re good at, making stuff up. Put your wild imagination to good use. Have it turned into a movie.”