WILLOW

Croc survived one war only to be thrown into another. A war against death. I stayed by his side night and day with little sleep. I'd doze off for seconds at a time before I'd jolt awake and check to make sure he was still breathing. For weeks, I prayed, begging any being who would listen to heal him.

Fern used boiling water and rum to keep the wounds clean. We constantly swapped out rags to keep his body cool.

Croc fought hard, further proving his claims that he could survive anything. His fever broke, and he slowly managed to stay awake for longer each day. The infection subsided. The swelling went down. The skin on his leg returned to its normal color, and he sat up in bed, then stood with assistance, then limped across the ship, using the rail as a crutch. With each day that passed, he got a little better. They called him a miracle, but I knew the truth. It wasn't magic or divine intervention that pulled him from the abyss. It was strength. It was the same thing that kept him alive as a child. It was what kept me from breaking down and losing hope. Never again would I doubt him: not now, not tomorrow.

We were sitting on the deck, watching the sun set over the horizon as the children played somewhere behind us.

"Tex says we'll spend as long as we can back at camp so the prisoners can get stronger," I said.

Croc chewed his lip, nodding once. He'd been so quiet since he woke up. Always lost in thought. It worried me. He'd been all alone, out in a world he still didn't fully understand. It didn't take much to imagine the horrible things he would have seen. It was exactly what I'd feared would happen the day we left the swamp; his wholesome purity had been tainted. He wasn't innocent anymore.

And I had no idea what he was thinking. I sighed. "Did you run out of words while you were asleep?"

He looked at me, his brow pinching. "Huh?"

"What are you thinking about?"

He hesitated, then looked back at the horizon. "I was thinking about my mother."

I blinked. Of all the things I'd expected him to say, that hadn't been one of them. His mother? He'd never mentioned a mother. There'd been no pictures. "You remember her?"

"Not exactly," he said. "Pappy mentioned her."

My brows lifted, and for a full minute, neither of us spoke. "You mean when you were a kid?"

"When I was asleep."

"Croc—" I closed my mouth. How could I tell him it was just a dream? What purpose would it serve? Better to let him have his moment, the same way I'd had mine with Julia. "What did he say about her?"

His lips twitched, and he shook his head. "Nothing all that great."

"Oh. . .Well, then."

He met my gaze and held it, and for the first time in weeks, I had his full attention. "Do you remember that day in the garden, when Julia said there could be information about my past in the town near the swamp?"

My heart clenched at the mention of her, and I swallowed, already knowing where his mind was going. "Yeah."

"Pappy took me there. We were looking for my mother."

"When you were a kid. . .or in a dream?" I asked cautiously.

Croc seemed to think on that for a moment. "Both? I'm not sure, but I think he wants me to go there."

"By yourself?" What about his leg? Sure, he was better, but he wasn't healed. And what if something happened, and we had to run again? "I don't—"

"Not by myself. With you and the kids. Maybe even Merle and a couple others. We could take a boat and be back in less than a week."

I chewed my lip. He sounded like a kid listing off all the reasons why he was responsible enough to have a puppy. I wanted to support him. Lord knows I'd always wanted to know about the woman who gave birth to me. But to risk so much over something he'd seen in a fever dream? I knew firsthand how real a dream could be. Even I'd believed, until Julia started eating ham jelly. No way that shit was real.

"I want that for you," I said, choosing my words carefully. "But it sounds dangerous to leave the group so soon after Savannah."

I hated the disappointment that filled his eyes, and the way he looked away. I hated that he nodded, knowing I was right. But most of all, I hated myself, because if anyone deserved answers, it was Croc.

* * *

It was sunny the day we arrived at camp. Too bright for the darkness we'd left behind. Maurice was there to greet the men on the bank. Croc and I remained in the water, waiting for the newcomers to digest the shock of a talking bear.

Being here felt strange. I hadn't thought I'd ever return. It seemed like only yesterday we'd fled, yet here we stood, back where our whole world had changed. Flashes of that day dug into my brain like barbs. The sight of Julia, colorless and still, being lowered into the ground. The feel of her cold skin as I said my final goodbye.

Croc released the call, drawing the gators up from the depths for the first time since we obtained the ship. There were no more secrets now. This mass of people, all of them, were a part of our group. Our family. And when they started toward camp, we followed them.

The mess was worse than it'd been, but the bodies we hadn't had time to bury were gone. Taken. If the Greater Good hadn't known what the chemicals could do before, they did now.

Or, at least, that's what I thought.

But even I hadn't known the full extent of what could be.

Not until we reached Julia's garden, and my dreams became reality.

The apple tree stood just as tall and wide as it'd been in my imagination. Thick, lush branches formed a canopy above the clearing, each one full of bright, red apples. Massive roots dipped in and out of the ground, all leading back to the garden. To her.

Tex stopped. Merle sprinted. I stared in disbelief, realizing what this meant. She had been real. She had been with me. She was here now.

"It smells like her," Tex breathed.

"It grew from her," I choked. My vision swam. My lungs locked. She'd eaten an apple that morning. We'd buried her in the same ground she'd spent months watering with chemicals. Now, she'd been reborn, and just like my dream, every apple was ripe. Just like in life, she was feeding us, nurturing us, and she wasn't gone. No way could I have known this would be here. No way could I have guessed. She'd shown me.

Despite his bad leg, Croc rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the trunk, hugging the tree as if he were hugging her. He was.

Too late, I noticed the lone prisoner pluck a piece of the fruit from one of the many branches. By the time I'd opened my mouth to stop him, he was already taking a bite.

"You mother fucker!" Merle stormed toward him with murder in his eyes, then stopped. His face fell slack as he stared, stunned.

I followed his gaze and sucked in a breath. Blistered skin smoothed. Scars faded. The color returned to his cheeks, then the rest of him. This was what Julia had been trying to tell me. This was what she was calling me toward. "Impossible," I whispered, but even as I said it, I knew it wasn't true. I'd learned that over and over again. Impossible was our reality.

I stepped forward, plucking an apple off a low hanging branch on my way to Croc. It felt warm in my hand, as if it were alive.

Croc was too busy watching the prisoner to notice me approach.

I gently took his elbow, pulling his attention. Then I lifted the apple to his lips the way Julia had to me. "Eat."

He hesitated. "But it smells like her."

He had a point, but I knew in my heart that this was right. This was what she wanted. I sucked in a shaky breath and forced a smile. "You're a brave man if you think you can just refuse food from Julia."

Croc seemed to think that over, then slowly, reluctantly, he took a bite and chewed. For several long seconds, I held my breath, waiting for a change, and it came in the slightest increments. The scar on his cheek smoothed out. The white of his eyes brightened. Then he straightened, shifting his weight onto his bad leg, then bending it at the knee as if it'd never been injured.

I laughed, tears filling my eyes. One by one, the prisoners came forward, taking the blessings Julia offered. She was feeding the world, even now. She was here. She'd never left. I stepped closer, pressing my ear to the trunk as if checking for her heart. And while it didn't beat, it was there, a dull thrum echoing through her new form.

"I love you," I whispered.

Croc's arm circled me, then we were hugging her together.

"Once we get settled, we'll ask Tex about using one of the boats," I said.

Croc pulled back to see my face. "You sure?"

I nodded, smiling through my tears. "Very sure."