The camp had split into thirds, with Anuli, Jioke, and Nathaniel leading the ranks. This was what they had been talking about. I had felt ignorant, standing around, hearing the sounds but not understanding a word. They all spoke English perfectly, with no hint of an accent. Hearing them switch to Igbo so deftly left me jarred. My ears strained as though to pick up a word or two, but I couldn't make out a thing.

Jioke's regiment took lead, pouring out from the forest in droves down toward the flat grasslands. As each person passed Kambili, she took their right hand within hers and spoke a few words. She continued in this trend as Anuli and her group followed. When she reached her brother, Chika, she picked him up in her arms and blew kisses onto his neck.

She loved him. Separating into groups would never have been her first choice. Kambili set him onto the ground and tightened the backpack over his shoulders. She patted his head once, and then gave him to an older boy. 

I could imagine my father looking at her with pride if she were his daughter. An aura of strength and self-assuredness emitted from her core as brightly as her inherent grace.

As Nathaniel approached, he grabbed Kambili's hand and squeezed. It lasted a second—maybe less than that—but I swore I saw him transfer his strength to her. Kambili straightened her shoulders and began to shake hands with the others.

Before he led his group away, I saw Nathaniel search for me, but I ducked his gaze. I felt his eyes on me, but I didn't look up. There was nothing left to say.

Too soon, the camp was empty. In the distance, I saw the motion of around fifty pairs of legs marching in three separate paths.

Kambili found me sitting on the log. "I understand why you divided them into groups," I told her. "You're trying to hide your tracks and retain your anonymity."

"Very clever, Atulu. What other tricks can you do?" I looked up then. She tracked 's group, her eyes skimming through the huddled mass. She was trying to find her brother.

I softened my voice as I said, "I can tell you that your strategies won't work. As long as you have me, my father will search for you."

"Do you want to leave?" she asked. "Try and find you way back to Celestia from here."

It would have been easy to escape while she had been busy getting her crew ready to leave, but where would I have gone? We were in Verium. I knew that, but not much else. It was warmer here than in the city. The trees were thicker and larger.

To Kambili, I said, "And die trying? I'm safer with you."

"Good. We both agree." She shoved a crammed backpack at my chest. I barely caught it in my arms before it could fall and hit my feet. "It's only fitting that you carry your own supplies."

She stalked off in the opposite direction without bothering to check if I was following her.

Just like that, any pity I'd previously felt was effectively crushed. I hoisted the backpack over my shoulders, jogging to keep up with Kambili.

"Where are we going?"

She didn't take her eyes off the path. "You don't really think I'd answer that, do you, Atulu?"

"I know you know that my name is Celeste." I almost rolled my eyes.

"Yes, but is it as fun to say?"

From then on, I decided it was better to travel in silence. I was thirsty and hungry, but Kambili showed no sign of slowing down. If I irritated her too much, I wasn't completely sure that she wouldn't run off and leave me here. It was better to stay quiet. I had no intention of dying in the middle of nowhere.

We walked for over three hours. The flat grassland had given way to a dense woodland where the trees stood scant feet apart. The low branches scratched my face and snagged my hair. I glanced at Kambili to see how she fared. Her brows were drawn together, eyes narrowed in concentration. Her steps were measured, and she used her hands to part the tree limbs. I lagged behind her, huffing and puffing. My lungs felt as though they would collapse. She stopped for a moment, hands placed on her hips. I sagged against a tree trunk, dropping the backpack onto the floor.

"We're taking a break?" I asked the question, but it was really a statement. If I were brave enough, it would have been a demand.

She eyed me as though I were the biggest fool. She didn't have to say atulu for me to know that she was thinking it. The word was in her eyes, stamped within her irises, along with judgement and contempt.

"We will walk as long as the sun shines."

"When will we eat?"

"When we take a break."

"What about dehydration?"

"You have saliva, yes?"

Kambili did it on purpose. She was a sick person who relished in my misery. I watched her bend to retie her shoelaces, wrapping the string around itself in a double knot. When she finished, she straightened to her feet and continued on the journey without hesitation. I closed my eyes for a second before shouldering the backpack and running after her.

Soon, we reached the edge of the woodland. I winded between the trees, finally exiting the woods. The bright sun welcomed us, but like always, it gave no warmth. I felt the air drop ten degrees now that we were unprotected from the harsh winds.

I fell to the ground, landing halfway on my bag. "I can't. I can't move a single inch."

Kambili crossed her arms; her lips curled in disgust. I didn't care. I closed my eyes to block out her displeasure.

"Are you resting or sleeping?" she asked. I couldn't hear her. I was imagining my large, soft bed at home, and my comfy, fluffed pillow. "It won't be funny when I leave you." Her voice sounded too far away, so I snapped up.

I was surprised to see her sitting on the ground. Her legs were crossed, and she was foraging through her bag. She pulled out a water bottle and took a sip before passing it to me.

"You're sharing with me? I'm touched." She retracted the bottle. "No, no," I said quickly. "I didn't mean that. I'll be good." I snatched the water before it disappeared into her bag. It was lukewarm, crisp, and refreshing as it poured down my throat. I drank half of the water before returning the bottle to Kambili, watching as she stowed it away and secured the latch of her bag.

"How much longer until our destination?" She looked down at me, her brows raised. "I know, I know," I said lying back down. "I shouldn't ask because you won't tell me, but how do I know that you're not leading me to my death?"

"You don't know," she said with a smile. "And I wouldn't tell you, anyway. If you feel safer leaving me..."

At my expression she laughed, a pure sound devoid of the bitterness and anger she carried on her shoulders like weights.

"It's the older sister in me, but don't worry, Celeste. I'm not going to kill you. I need you, remember. It is your blood that opens the journal."

"What if it didn't? What if I had no leverage?"

"I don't like hypotheticals," she said. "It's better to focus on reality."

"Answer the question. What would you have done?" I asked her, marveling at my audacity. Two days ago, I never would have dared to speak to her like that. But between all that we'd shared, I felt my apprehension and fear chip away.

Sighing, she said. "I was very angry when I saw Enyi bringing you into my camp. Your arrival could only bring trouble, and so far, I have been right. People tell me that I have a bit of a temper, and I admit that it is true." She shrugged. "Let's just say you should be happy that my gun was not by me that day."