Chapter 16

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Thorne passed the makeshift cane to his opposite side so he 

 could hold Cress's elbow as they stepped out onto the sand. 

She kept her head down, carefully choosing reach step but 

also afraid that if she looked up into the sky, her legs

would freeze beneath her and she would never be able to

 make them move again.

When they'd gone a safe distance from satellite, Cress

 tentatively lifted her gaze. 

Ahead of her was the same eternal landscape, the sky 

 growing darker.

She glanced back toward the satellite, and gasped.

Thorne's hand squeezed her elbow.

"There are mountains," she said, gaping at the jagged 

peaks along the horizon.

He squinted.

 "Mountains, or glorified hills?"

She considered the question, comparing the site before

 her with the photos of mountain ranges she'd seen on 

the screens. 

Dozens of peaks of varying heights disappeared into the

 blackness of night.

"I think ... real mountains," she said. 

"But it's getting dark, and I can't see any white on top. 

Do mountains always have snow?"

"Not always. 

How far are they?"

"Um..." they seemed close, but the foothills and sand

 dunes between them could have been deceiving, and

 she'd never been asked to judge distances before.

"Never mind." Thorne tapped the cane against the ground.

 It stirred something in Cress's gut when he didn't let go 

 of her arm, though perhaps he appreciated the tethering

 sensation as much as she did. 

"What direction are they in?"

She took his hand and pointed. 

Her heart was fluttering erratically and she felt herself trap-

ped between elation and terror. 

 Even from this distance,  she could tell that the mountains 

 were enormous—hulking, ancient beasts lined up like an

impenetrable wall dividing this wasteland.

But at least they were something, a physical, visual marker

 to break up the monotony of the desert.

They somehow calmed her, even while making her feel as 

insignificant as ever.

"So that must be ... south, right?"

 He pointed in another direction. 

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