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Chapter 92

"I want my swords," Coal groans, looking longingly at Shiver's giant obsidian two-handed blade, which leans against our pitifully small supplies mound.
"Yeah, well, I want some actual pants," I say, looking down at my tattered dress. The only reason I accepted it was because I didn't want to seem rude to Pine, and because it would be the only pretty thing I've ever owned. Now, however, it's completely ruined, and it doesn't seem like it was ever a good idea to climb a mountain in it in the first place. "It's not gonna happen. Get over it."
I sound terse to myself, but I'm tired and I haven't slept for over 24 hours, and I just want to lie down and sleep.
Me and Coal scavenge the very last few blankets, all of which are thin and scratchy, the worst ones, and throw them down on the ground a little ways away from where Sir Blarg snores at the edge of the clearing.
The rest of the rebels have bedded down for the night. I still don't trust any of them- Except maybe Bugs, and perhaps Glass and Hour.
I still don't get Pops, who looks like a cockroach with a hoody and talks like a kindly pirate. Joe- I don't trust her, after the Coal Incident. I know he wouldn't betray me, but I bet she would without a second thought.
Glade... Well, he's Glade. There's not really anymore I can say.
Stomp hates me for messing up his hand, and I don't think he likes Coal either. Actually, I think he hates everyone. But I can't say I'm particularly fond of him either, so it's a mutual feeling.
Shiver terrifies me, with that crooked, dull, evil dagger in the place of his left hand, just barely poking out through the long sleeve of his dusty coat. I don't think I'll ever trust him.
As I settle myself down, on top of one thin blanket, with the rest of them cocooned on top of me, I wonder about tomorrow, shivering with the thought. All I can hope is that they will hate the City as much as we do, or else... Well, we're pretty much as exhausted, starved, and beaten up as they come, and I try not to think of how quick the battle would end between us and a civilization with any sort of weapon.
With that comforting thought, I finish tucking myself in under the thin blankets as tight as possible without causing self-imposed suffocation, and roll onto my side, my eyes on the smoldering fire. The last glowing embers begin to fade, the dull orange glow drawing back into itself, then, finally, darkness once more, as was in the beginning, and as will always lie in the end.