“Vidhan, wait up.” I breathe hard and hurry after him, but he doesn’t break stride and so I let him go.

—

A lone oak tree—around which a farmer has ploughed concentric circles, now frosted and hard—stands like a sentinel in the field. Isolated. Nothing else into the distance. We decide to rest here, to rehydrate. Akuji stands away from the tree, stone-silent, eyes sweeping the horizon. Vidhan, hopping from foot-to-foot, disappears into the field of stalks. I slump down with my back against the tree’s rough trunk and pull my knees to my chest. Ice particles swirl through the air. My legs and feet ache. I’m wrung-out, exhausted from the walking. It feels like I’ve been slogging through the field for hours, but it could easily be minutes. Time has lost all meaning.

Malik leans up against the tree.

He slides down next to me, roots through the backpack he’s been carrying and pulls out his canteen. He hands it to me. I throw back my head and drink. Instantly, I feel the Firewater do its warming work.

“Thanks,” I mumble, wiping my mouth, pressing the canteen back into his hand. Malik doesn’t respond. I listen to his breathing, feel the heat steaming off his body. He takes a slug of Firewater and swallows. Sets the canteen down.

Silence.

I stare at the toes of my Stan Smiths—battered and brown and sodden.

“Two years,” Malik says, breaking the quiet. “That’s all. That’s how long I knew him. But that’s a lifetime in the multiverse.” He puts his hand flat on the ground, close to his hip, and the tips of his splayed fingers almost touch mine.

The sun shines down on us, but I can’t feel its heat.

“I liked him” is all I manage.

Malik sucks his teeth. “He was a mentor,” he says. “An older brother.”

I nod and look across the field. “I’m sorry, Malik. I really am. And…about all the others too. People like Issi.”

Malik gives me a sharp look and then his eyes slide away.

“What do you know about Issi?”

“I know I’ve taken her place,” I say.

“Leave it,” he says. “She’s gone, Ana.”

“I know. But—”

“But nothing. There’s nothing we can do about it. She’s gone and so is Gabe. Gone. All we can do now, is fight. Because, if we don’t, their deaths mean nothing.”

He falls silent. The cold knifes into my chest. Malik blows out a breath and coughs. I look at his profile and I see, in the tight line of his jaw, the pain.

Without thinking, I put my hand over his. It just happens.

He doesn’t move.

I look away, feeling self-conscious, heart in my throat.