Grace left the next morning better rested than she had been in weeks. She awoke as the sun just barely began to light up the sky, quickly packed up her things, threw her jacket on over the fresh shirt the Cantamas gave her, pulled on her jeans, and quietly stole downstairs. Ms. Cantama was already up and gave Grace a generous supply of food for her journey back.

As Grace headed southwest away from the house, she thought back to her first interaction with the Cantamas. She regretted thinking of them only as out of touch rich people. They clearly had goodness in their hearts, and Grace would always be indebted to them now. And besides, that pink ribbon she got for them most likely allowed for her and Danielle's reunion with the rest of the group. It was hard to say if the Cantamas would have let Hunter, Anna, and the Tanakas stay without knowing Hunter and Grace's connection.

Just think about Hunter almost made Grace want to turn around and head back. What the hell had gotten into her? She was never this emotional about anyone, and certainly not a guy. Not even when she was in college or high school.

Grace shook her head and forced herself ahead. For every ounce of regret she had for leaving Hunter, the joy she felt for traveling farther and farther from the valley matched it. The horror show was over, and now she never had to go back.

Grace felt something rough at the bottom of her shoes. She picked up her foot and saw that the sole was beginning to tear away from the body. She sighed. Now she knew what her next trip would be. It was hard to find new shoes.

After about an hour of walking, Grace came across a small town. She wouldn't have stopped, but as she walked through, she noticed a small bar. It was early, but it's not like Grace had been on any sort of normal sleep schedule, anyway. And she had run out of atkey a long time ago.

The bartender did a slight double take as she walked in. It was only then that Grace wondered how awful she actually looked. The Cantamas had been kind, but Grace didn't know what their initial reaction had been. And everyone Grace traveled with probably looked as bad as she did.

"You look like you need a drink," the bartender said. "Which is really saying something given that the sun just came up."

Grace sat down on a stool. "I don't really have anything to give you," she said. All she carried in her pack was an almost used up roll of bandages and the food from the Cantamas. And Grace wasn't stupid enough to give that up.

The bartender put a glass in front of her and splashed some clear liquid in it. "On the house," he said. "You look like you need it."

Grace took a sip. Not bad. "I look that desperate, huh?"

"You look like you have a story to tell."

Grace laughed, but it sounded too bitter to be actually thought of as a nice sound. "You could say that."

"But I won't pry," the bartender said when she fell silent.

Grace shrugged. "I was looking for someone," she said. "And things got a little messed up along the way."

"Did you find them?"

Grace nodded. She took another sip of the alcohol, acknowledging but not wincing as the fire stung her throat.

"And where you headed now?"

"Home."

"That must be nice then," the bartender said. "I'm guessing you've been gone for a while?"

Grace nodded. "Much longer than I would have liked." She opened up her bag. "Mind if I eat?"

"Go ahead."

The Cantamas had packed her bread, dried meat, a few pieces of fresh fruit, and, to her delight, another Oreo. She ate about a third of what was there. Grace estimated that it would take her about two days to get home, but the last thing she needed was to run out of food before getting there. She was tired of being hungry.

"Have you heard about what's going on at the border?"

Grace froze with a piece of bread in her mouth. "No, what's going on?"

"Well, no one really knows," the bartender said. "But I've heard some whispers from the security forces around here. We're under the protection of some of the richer farmer families," he explained. "So security is good. But I guess the border patrols that belong to the militia state are getting a bit aggressive."

"And no ideas why?"

"Well, the last time this happened, it's because a bunch of criminals, or at least criminals to the militia, escaped. They don't like it when that happens."

"No, I suspect they don't," Grace murmured. The bartender wasn't stupid, but apparently Grace was. If there were rumors about people escaping from the valley, Grace in her disheveled and half-starved state would make a pretty good suspect.

"I think the whole thing is ridiculous," the bartender continued. "Why would they want to keep people in their borders who don't want to be there?"

"No idea." Grace drained her glass and packed away the rest of her food, including half of the Oreo. Thanks for the drink, but I should probably get going."

"Of course." The bartender grabbed her glass. "Good luck on your journey, I hope you get home alright."

"Thank you."

There were a few more people out on the main road through the town as Grace left the bar, but besides a few curious looks, she didn't attract much attention, and it wasn't long before she was back in the open, away from people.

It was nice to be able to just walk and not fear someone coming after her. Grace didn't have to hide amongst the trees or sprint across open spaces. She could just walk, feeling the air on her skin and the breeze blowing through her hair.

The same sense of security went for when night fell again, and Grace stopped to rest. She felt comfortable lying down in a field to get a few hours of sleep. She didn't have to worry about keeping watch or staying poised to run at a moment's notice. After so long of being tense and afraid all of the time, Grace could almost feel the physical weight that had lifted off of her body.

The next day, Grace passed through another town, but she didn't stop. She wasn't sure how close she was to Seaside, but she knew she would be there soon. She could feel it.

At mid-day, she stopped to eat on a hill overlooking a lake. The wind buffeted around her, but it was very peaceful. Pulling out one of her maps, Grace guessed that she was probably less than ten miles away from her home. She would be there by nightfall.

She was just packing up her food when she heard footsteps crunching through the long grass coming up behind her.

"Grace?"

Grace turned around and immediately cringed at her own mistake. She had no idea who was behind her, but she had told him exactly who she was. "Who are you?"

The man was tall and dressed in clean clothes. He kept his face neutral, which only made him less trustworthy.

"You don't know me."

"I realize that, that's why I asked."

"You don't know me," the man was getting uncomfortably close so Grace took a few steps back, "but you will."

Grace opened her mouth to respond, but she felt a sharp pain on the back of her head before she could. Everything went black.