The Hunt

Chapter 69: Hanna

Who knew, after all this time, that I would end up on the other side of the wall.

The river is frozen over like glass, disturbed only by the slight ripples and waves that are frozen in time. The sun barely escapes through thick clouds, but the little bit that does glints on the ice into my eyes. The cold bites at my cheeks and freezes every breath I take, but I am used to it now. My hands are shoved into the deep pockets of my coat, and I flip the stone over in my palm.

When I had gone back to the rebellion with Jonas, it was hard. I knew I was going back to starvation and endless cold and ruthless exiles hungry for blood. I killed a woman my first day back, slit her throat, because she stole one of Karter's blankets. I know he would've done the same for me. Even though we don't share a tent anymore, he takes me out on hunting trips when the snow isn't too bad. He tells me rumors from the city that I don't believe in the slightest.

Jonas is busy with the rebellion. When we came back, we knew that the city was going to retaliate. They can't ignore us anymore, so we can expect a fair fight now. I had this idea that we should make the rebellion more selective, because if we're going to fight at Surga's level, we need some sort of standards. We need a little organization. Jonas agreed with me reluctantly, and we came up with a process for letting exiles in: a set of questions they have to answer comprehensively. If we don't think they'd be good for the rebellion, we kill them on the spot.

Vihaan doesn't do much these days. He slinks around in the shadows and lets Jonas do all the work. I'm guessing he thinks about Javaar a lot more than he lets on. I'll admit it, every now and then the boy will come into my mind. Sometimes I'll think I see his catlike eyes glowing in the trees at night.

Trent and Viktoria are still settling in. Karter, the softie that he is, has helped them out a little. It's still hard, because Viktoria is used to being so vocal about her opinions, and straightforward, but now she has to watch her tongue. At least she has Trent, who is loyal to the very end. They can trust each other, and that's really all one needs to survive.

Sometimes, in the midst of a really cold night, I'll think back to my old room. I can faintly remember my bed, with Jonas' across from mine, and the desk with all my things. I can sometimes picture the hallways, the bridge, and the uniforms of government and military officials passing by.

I look out above the trees. I wonder what Naya is doing right now? That strange girl, who was never more than a name and a dot on my computer for so long, and then became my sister and was suddenly so real. She had just been an unattainable target, a distant force that drove me out of my mind night and day. And then she was there, standing in front of me, and I was saving her. Our paths really only crossed once, but I feel like we've been tangled together for a long time now. I know that I've never spoken more than a few words to the girl, and that I used to be on a mission to kill her, but I feel like we have some kind of obligatory connection. I could just continue on and never think of her again, like I have done with a lot of my life, but there will always be a part of me that wonders.

What is Naya doing right now?

"Hanna!" Jonas is standing at the edge of the trees. I didn't hear him come up, but now he is a bright contrast to the white snow in his black jacket.

I turn around, and squint at him.

"Come back with me. I want you to be the first one to answer the questions," he exclaims.

I turn back around, to the woods across the wide river. I stare at the trees dusted with snow one last time, gripping the stone in my pocket. I take it out and hold it in my palm, my eyes following its smooth edge. I see memories of a little boy in his uniform giving a little girl a stone, and then I see the stone sitting on my bedside table in my old room, as years pass by.

I curl my fingers around the stone, bring my arm back, and throw it.

I watch it disappear into the snow on the other side of the river, and a breath escapes from my mouth. I hear Jonas' crunching footsteps in the snow come up beside me. He grabs my hand, and squeezes it. I turn my head to look at him, and he nods.

We make our way back to the camp.

"How many people have you killed?"

I look over to Jonas. "Really?"

He nods, "Come on, just answer honestly."

I turn back to Vihaan, and clear my throat. "I don't know how many. Probably only a dozen, I'm not sure."

Vihaan narrows his eyes, but continues with the questions, "How?"

I grumble to Jonas, "Is this really necessary to determine if someone is a good addition to the rebellion? It seems arbitrary."

"Just answer them, or we won't let you in," Jonas teases, but I don't think Vihaan appreciates it.

I continue seriously, "Most were with my gun. I shot at a lot of people when I was in the military, and even when I wasn't, I still had a gun most of the time. The others were just with this army knife."

"When were you exiled, and why?" Vihaan asks with his velvety croak.

"I wasn't exiled, I left by choice. It was a few weeks ago I think. I left because I want to have the ability to be my own person. Even though it feels like I don't know what I'm doing most of the time, I like that feeling. It's unpredictable, and it's dangerous, and I prefer to be a person who can deal with all of that on her own."

"Are you willing to die for this cause?"

I look over at Jonas, and his unkempt hair and his puppy-dog eyes. "I'm willing to die for the person who believes in this cause. I think that's the same thing."

"Finally, the last question: if we win this war, are you ready for the freedom you'll receive?"

I nod.

"Yes. I think I am."