“Me too, Halfy,” he whispered, low enough that only she could hear. Then he winked at her and sauntered to the gate.
From the corner of her eye, the wildflowers along the wall caught her attention. “Roar, wait!”
Roar turned around. “Yes?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
Aria ran to the wall, scanning the flowers. She found the right one and plucked it. She drew in its scent and imagined Perry walking beside her, his bow across his back, looking over with his lopsided grin.
She brought the flower to Roar. “I changed my mind,” she said. “Give him this.”
Roar’s eyes crinkled in confusion. “I thought you liked roses. What’s this?”
“A violet.”
Two weeks later, Aria crouched in front of a fire, turning a rabbit over on a wooden spit. She couldn’t see beyond the warm glow of the flames, but her ears told her she was safe in these woods, where only small animals scurried close.
She had left Marron’s days earlier than she’d planned. She had missed Roar far more than she had expected. She’d even missed Cinder’s surly presence. She couldn’t stand to be in the same spaces without them, so she’d readied her pack, said her teary good-byes with Marron, and then set off on her own.
As she listened to the sizzle of the meat and gristle, she remembered the night she’d first seen real fire. How frightening and thrilling it had been to her in Ag 6. She still saw it this way. Perhaps more so. She’d seen the Aether set whole parts of the world to burn. She’d seen fire transform the skin on the back of a broad hand into something knotted and patched with scarring. But she also loved fire now, ended every day like this, rubbing her hands before it, letting it bring forth the sweet ache of her memories.
In the sounds of the night Aria heard footsteps, far off and faint, but she recognized them instantly.
She shot into the darkness, letting her ears guide her. She followed the crunch of his feet on stones and small twigs, coming faster, louder, as his walk became a jog, then a run. She chased the sounds until all she heard was his heartbeat and then his breath and his voice, right by her ear, telling her, in tones as warm as fire, exactly the words she wanted to hear.