It had been two long days since they'd left the settlement.
It wasn't that the trail to Summerhold had been harsh. It was the fact that there was a difference in pace when five people took the trip and when a small village came along with all their properties.
The caravan of survivors had made the trip in a slow, deliberate column, their footsteps fueled by nothing more than grit and hope. Children rode in the wagons beside the elderly, while those who could still fight kept to the flanks, watching for danger.
As for the infected, they never showed up on the journey. The people could only theorize that they were still sleeping.
At the very front, Ren and Lilith rode side by side. Lilith's white cloak fluttered behind her, dirt-smudged and worn but still bearing the sigil of the Chosen.
