I didn't open my eyes, but I came awake all at once. Something that had been happening more and more often lately.

Without moving a muscle, I concentrated on learning everything I could about my surroundings. Where I was, how I got there, and my own bodily state. The first thing I noticed was that I was warm. Followed by the impression that I had several blankets over me, and some sort of mattress beneath. A lumpy pillow was beneath my head, though it and the blankets smelled clean. I also wore clothes - apparently the same set as I arrived in. That reassured me somewhat.

Next, I turned my attention to the sounds. The area immediately around me was quiet, without a rustle or a breath aside from my own. Further away, my senses picked up small rustlings and snores, the sounds of many people sleeping. Even further than that, on the edge of hearing, at least two sets of footsteps set a measured pace, pausing occasionally, though they never seemed to get much closer or further away. I judged that I was somewhere inside the camp, and that it was nighttime. The footsteps were the guards, and the snores the rest of the group. 

Slowly, I blinked open my eyes, and took in everything in around me. 

I was in a tent, which was just barely large enough to hold me in a sleeping bag with my bundle of belongings at my feet. My sword lay alongside me, which I was grateful for. Beyond the fabric, everything was dark but for the light of a fire reflecting along the ridgepole above me, clearly filtered past several rows of tents first.

Slowly, I eased up and out of my bag, wincing at the sudden pain in all of my extremities, especially my knee. Crawling was difficult, but I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my weight off my injured knee. I stuffed my sword through my belt before painstakingly shuffling down to my sack and rummaging through it, making sure that anything that could bang together and make noise was muffled by a layer of clothing or something equally soft. I took out a pair of pocket knives and a small dagger as well, slipping them into various pockets of my rumpled outfit. My jeans were torn nearly off at the knees, with the holes being ripped open even more for my caretakers to bandage my wounds. I winced as I put a jacket over my gray t-shirt, sliding the sleeves slowly over my hands and arms, which were wrapped from bicep to fingertip in clean white cloth and gauze. I removed the cloth first, putting it in a neat pile next to the pillow. 

Putting the hood of my long, dark-gray jacket up, I knelt at the front of the tent and gently, quietly pulled up the zipper. Instinctively, I knew that pulling up steadily would be the least likely to wake people, as a steady noise just blends into the ambiance of their surroundings. Even dull, human senses are made to pick out anomalies, even if those anomalies are more quiet than the long, steady pull that I was using. I had done the same thing many times on camping trips when I was younger, to keep from waking my parents when I got up early and couldn't keep still.

As I crept along through the rows of tents, bag slung over my back, I began to question my first instinct, which was to leave quickly and quietly. I knew that while I might be offered some protection while I healed, I might also be delayed, potentially indefinitely, from leaving. Plus the part of me that was still raw and emotional from the surprise encounter wanted to run and hide in the darkest corner of the world possible. I didn't want them to know I had left until I was miles and miles away.

I reached the edge of of the sea of tents, which left a six-foot lane between it and the wall of the sports store. Random racks of partially-deflated balls, weights, stands and clothing had been pushed to the side, and I slipped across the space to reach the clutter, then picked my way toward the front of the store, using the various objects as cover. 

The fire in front of the main entrance had burned low, flaring every once in awhile as a tongue of flame found it's way out of a crevice in a log. One man sat drowsily beside it, while two others patrolled the area - walking around the entire camp in a square. I had come out directly between two of them, but the one behind me was rapidly catching up to my position. I would be hard to see if I darted for the side door, but not impossible. I rapidly made my decision, and crouched down behind a weight bench, my coat whispering on the concrete floor. Hastily, I picked up a medium-sized weight, bent over, and put it on my back, making me look like just another haphazard pile of random castoff junk that someone had thrown a weight on top of after they were done working out. I then sat perfectly still.

I knew there was a slight risk that the guard would notice that something was different as he came around, but it was low, since I doubted they paid very much attention to exactly where things were along the walls, especially since it probably tended to shift around from day to day. I still held my breath as the set of boots passed my hiding place..... without pausing.

After carefully lifting the weight off my back and laying it on the padded bench, I shuffled out of my hiding place and slipped past the old checkout counter and out through the side door, half-expecting the gate sensors to go off like I was trying to steal something. I barely breathed as I scooted along the dim sidewalk outside, keeping one hand lightly brushing the brick wall as I made my way around the building. I didn't know where they kept the horses - and whatever other animals they had - but I figured that they would be close enough to get to in a hurry. 

I cautiously poked my head around the front of the building, then groaned softly. Small piles of horse poop littered the ground in various places, evidence that they rode them often in this area. The street lights were out, giving the whole place a ghost-town feel that raised the gooseflesh on my arms, but there was enough of a moon in the sky that I could see the area that the piles of horse leavings collected - in the Old Navy store across the street. 

The roads in this outdoor mall were modeled to look like a miniature town, with roundabouts centered with fountains or terraces of flowers. The front of the sports store looked straight down one of these streets, all the way to the other side of the mall, so that you could see it from everywhere. That street came to a T-crossing in front of the main doors, so I would have to cross the road that ran alongside it in order to get to the street that the Old Navy was on. I crouched for a moment, preparing myself. Right as I was about to sprint for cover, I heard a distant cloppity-clop. I shrank back into the shadow of the building as a rider turned a corner further down the street and rode at a steady walk toward the front of the building. There was no urgency to his pace, and I realized that of course they would have guards around the outside, too. I wondered nervously if there were any on foot, or perhaps posted on rooftops. I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle uneasily. 

The rider came closer, the horse's head bobbing as it ambled along almost without guidance, clearly used the the route. As they stepped past me, I made sure not to move. Even though horses have even worse dark vision than humans, their sense of movement is FAR greater, and the range of their vision wider. Being prey animals, they have learned to cope with their poor vision by watching simply for motion - something that I could relate to. I had been using contacts on this trip, although they bothered me, because glasses could get destroyed easily, and I couldn't get another pair without a LOT of difficulty. I knew that eventually I would have to resort to using them, but for now I was glad of the contacts. Glasses would have reflected light and possibly alerted the guards before I even left the tents.

The horse turned around the backs of the buildings, circling around through the outer parking lots for another pass down the main street. I knew I would have only minutes before he came back around. 

Carefully, I peered everywhere that I thought could be an advantageous watching spot for any guards on foot. I saw nothing. I took a deep breath and stepped lightly from my hiding place, trotting across the street in a tightly controlled, springy stride, letting my muscles place my feet almost delicately on the ground so as not to make any noise. 

I reached the front of the first building in the line. I would have to cross one more side street before getting to the Old Navy building, but from here on I would be exposed. The doors to the shops weren't recessed, and though I could jump through the empty, blown-out windows of some of them in an emergency, I knew I had to keep moving, plus I would rather not have a repeat of yesterday's glass incident. 

I slipped from shadow to shadow, pausing for breath behind the burnt-out shell of a car in front of the Claire's, before moving on. In just moments, I had reached the corner of the side street that I needed to cross. Peering around it, I saw the tail of the horse and rider whisk around the edge of the building at the end of that street, still skirting the outside of the 'town'. I waited a moment to look around before sprinting across the street and into the shadow of the Old Navy store. 

The front doors were, of course, gone. Lots of hoofprints tracking hay and refuse in and out of the broken opening convinced me that this was, indeed, the makeshift stable.

Inside, I came face-to-face with the Tumbler. 

Not the real one from the batman movies, but the big black Jeep Liberty that Mika's father had passed on to him when he died. His father had loved that car, taking very good care of it, subtly enhancing it over the years. He didn't mod it overboard like some people did. He replaced the plastic letters on the front and back with real metal, as well as the grill. Batman decals and license plates clung to the car like they belonged there. The formerly grey plastic wheel well coverings were now made of the same material as the rest of the car. Along the top of the windshield, yellow, curving letters spelled out 'The Dark Knight'. I smiled a little to see it. I had only been allowed to drive it once. It was a beast of a vehicle. I wasn't surprised to see it, though I WAS surprised that it was in a place where other people could potentially damage it. Still, I figured that everyone in the camp was well-aware of how much that car meant to their leader... and the consequences for harming it. I patted it's blunt nose fondly, eyes adjusting to the even dimmer light inside, before stepping carefully into the rest of the store. 

Inside, stalls had been set up using the tall, heavy metal shelves that had formerly held all kinds of clothing. Up on the walls, pictures of model families smiling at the camera, wearing their comfy, bright-colored brand clothing stared down, unaware that the world had changed and everything that they stood for was meaningless. I shivered under their gaze, feeling the expectations of a generation lost. 

The first few stalls held a collection of random horses, probably from local farms. One was a dark-colored thoroughbred, most likely brought out of retirement in order to serve the cause. The next was an old grey, perhaps a mixed breed, and after that a young, darkly-shaded quarter horse. The last woke from it's sleep at my approach, it's head coming up, eyeing me warily, before extending over the door in a friendly manner. I didn't want it to make any noise, so I stepped over cautiously and stroked it's nose, tracing the narrow white stripe that ran jaggedly down it's face. After closer inspection, I would have said it was a chestnut. Despite the lack of light, I could tell that it was a brown of some sort, and the lack of shading on the legs, mane and tail told me it wasn't a bay, while the four white stockings on it's legs and the stripe down it's nose were more common on chestnuts. I stroked it's nose for a moment longer, wishing I could have such a beautiful creature myself, then turned and slunk further into the makeshift barn. 

There were two rows of stalls in the wide space. They ran back to back down the center of the floor, while the walls were lined on every side with more of them, each one containing, if not a horse, then some kind of animal. Along the front of the room, next to the Tumbler, were several more vehicles, mostly ATVs and dirt bikes, the small motorcycle that Mika had ridden me down with among them. 

I crept into one of the rear corners of the room, still peering into each stall for a familiar face. Finally, I glanced into the corner stall, which was bigger than the rest, and saw both Pringles and Clover, heads down next to each other, their tack sitting on a shelf behind them. I looked closely at it, worried that Pringles, who was notorious for ruining tack by chewing on it, had destroyed it. After a moment, I noticed with relief that both horses were tied to the side of the stall opposite the shelf. They could move around, but they wouldn't be able to reach any of the tempting leather or nylon straps dangling off of the gear. 

Cautiously, trying to be quiet, I lifted a hand to remove the board set across the entrance to the stall. 

"I knew you'd try to leave."

I spun around. Mika leaned against the center row of stalls, idly twirling a knife over his fingers. Beside him, Brenna stood with her arms crossed, her expression invisible in the dark. It was Mika's voice I had heard. I stood up straight. "I kinda figured you'd try to stop me."

"No." This time, Brenna spoke. I bit my lip as pain flashed through my hands and knees, like shards of glass. "We're not here to stop you." She took two steps forward, and before I could react, she had engulfed me in a massive hug. 

Shocked, I stood frozen for a moment, before feeling my joints thaw enough to reach around and hug her back. Something in my chest felt like it was strained to the breaking point. 

"I'm sorry." I felt the whisper wrung out of that tight place in my chest, like water from a twisted rag, at the same instant that I heard it from her voice next to my ear. We drew back and smiled sheepishly in the darkness, then said, again simultaneously, "I forgive you." 

The laughter that followed was pure relief. I felt that knot in my chest loosen, though it didn't go away. It felt like a giant had been gripping my diaphragm in it's fist, and had now chosen to relax it's grip. I felt like I could breathe again. The stupid grin on my face relaxed into a more normal smile as I turned to Mika, who had been watching from the wall, eyebrow raised. "So you're going to let me leave?"

He chuckled, the first happy sound I had heard from him in many years. "I don't think you're going to give us a choice."

"Nope!" I popped the P, cocking my head mischievously. 

"But as that is the case," he continued, "we wanted to see if there was anything we could do for you. Your supplies are already packed with as much food as we could spare, and I've put a couple things in there that could help you on your journey."

My smile drifted away as I lapsed into thought. "There is.... one thing." I looked up at them, all seriousness. "You don't have to do it now, but I'm going to extend you an invitation. If you ever have trouble here, come find me. I'm going on to start a new settlement in Yellowstone. Pure natural water, heat in the winter, and a nearly-untouched ecosystem to make use of." They both stared. "It's a long way, I know, but I think it will be a sanctuary. Everyone who comes will have a role to play. Yours would be to protect us." I ran a hand through my hair, trying to explain. "I'm sure I won't be able to keep a place like that a secret. And there are some who would not hesitate to try and take it for themselves. I need as much help as I can get."

Brenna glanced at Mika, who looked deep in thought, brow crinkling. At last, he looked up at me, eyes glinting through the darkness. "We'll think on it, and perhaps one day we'll join you. I can't just ask everyone to up and leave their homes, at least not until they've had time to come to that decision themselves. I'll put it to them, and we'll see how it goes from there. I can't promise anything, but..." he glanced at Brenna, who nodded. "We'll try. It sounds like a smart idea."

I smiled again, and gave Brenna another hug. "Thank you. And I'm sorry again.... for everything." Mika surprised me by hugging me suddenly, as well. I let out a squeak, and he let me go just as quickly, looking at me with concern. "You ok?" 

"Yeah," I said, laughing a little, "you just surprised me." 

They both chuckled a little, and for a moment, it felt like we were old friends again. Inside, I was glowing. I had missed them a lot, but I hadn't realized just how much until they forgave me. Suddenly, I didn't want to leave at all.

I sighed as Brenna helped me saddle up, while Mika walked off into the gloom somewhere. I was so wrapped up in catching up with Brenna - how her family was doing, how they had escaped the virus, how they had wound up here - that I didn't notice the sound of hooves until they stopped outside the stall door. 

I looked up, and the first thing I saw was that white, twisted stripe that ran up between a pair of big, brown eyes. The quarter horse! For a split second, I thought it had managed to get out of it's stall somehow, until I saw Mika holding the leadrope. The tall, lanky horse - I saw now that it was a mare - was tacked up with a western saddle and bridle, a few things tied around it as if for travel. I thought for one wild moment that one of them meant to come with me, but Mika stepped forward and handed the lead rope to me. I looked at him, bewildered. 

"She's yours." he patted her neck. "She's from a quarter horse farm about a mile from here that was abandoned by the owners before the virus reached us. We don't know what happened to them, but the poor things were all starving by the time we found them. Now they're some of the best horses we have."

I stood, stunned, for a moment, before reaching out and scratching the mare behind her ears, while she sniffed noses with Pringles and Clover. "What's her name?" I finally asked.

He shrugged. "Don't know. We didn't bother to grab their pedigrees or anything when we went through the house. Didn't seem important anymore."

I nodded, thoughtfully, staring into her liquid eyes. "Her name is Promise."