-America-

Gathering the last few strangling refugees from the camp was no easy job. The Solders had carefully combed the forests for several days after the raid on our camp, not sparing a single soul. By the time I had finished the arduous process, there were only a handful of us.

The trek away from Angeles was one full of problems. Apparently, the king had ordered that soldiers be stationed in the forests in order to make sure that if there were any rebels – i.e. us – in the forest that they would be swiftly dispatched.

We had several close calls in the weeks following my departure from the royal hunting lodge. But, somehow, we managed to evade the patrols and outposts by the skin of our teeth.

It was absolute hell.

I led then up the West coast, and once we got to the sprawling city of New Seattle we made a small camp to rest. It was miserable, and the days blended together into one long gray blur. It rained on and off almost every day, something that perhaps we should have been grateful for. Although we couldn't have a fire for the rain and for fear of the smoke being seen, the soldiers seemed to have gotten lazy, and we never had a single encounter.

Maybe that was Maxon coming through for me.

Sometimes when I was in that hazy halfway state in between consciousness and sleep. I wondered what Kel was doing. Knowing her she was probably cleaning something or giving the royal cooks a lesson on how to cook real food. She had probably reorganized the entire kitchen by now. I hoped Maxon was treating her well. If I showed up at the palace after all of this was over to find her hurt, I'd definitely make good on my vow to kill him.

While we were at camp, I made little – excursions, for lack of a better word – to the city. It was amazing what rich twos were willing to throw away. You could feed an entire family of sevens for a month on their scraps. Sometimes I even found clothes. Often they were like new and perfectly fine, although a few had stains or tears; they were, for the most part, wearable. I managed to clothe and feed the entire camp from the trash of just one house.

Twos really were spoiled trash.

After we ended our time in New Seattle, we began to go east and continued going that way until I began to recognize the old beaten path and an old worn sign that said in faded white lettering: Kingsbury Farms.

My entire body relaxed as soon as I turned down the old drive that was obscured by overhanging limbs and brambles so thick that there was no way that you could drive a car down it.

The rest of the survivors, who had been following me in a silent, melancholy procession, seemed to liven up a bit. Beth, a young woman with her infant daughter, began to whisper to the child, and smiled for what seemed to be the first time in our almost four month journey. Collin, an orphaned little boy, who by some miracle had managed to escape the soldiers, bounced happily at my side and reached up to take my hand. I looked down at his little freckled face, and saw the hope burning in his eyes.

"America?" he whispered, breaking a perpetual silence.

"Yes, Collin?" I replied in a low voice. I had grown accustomed to the utter silence and the whispering and it felt almost unnatural to speak any louder now. Even though I knew for a fact that there were no soldiers in the area and that there was no need for it, it just felt right.

"Are we home now?" He asked, and the look of fear on his face contrasting with the hope in his eyes, broke my heart. This little boy had lost everything. He had watched as his mother and father had been executed. He had been hunted by soldiers. He had been starved and frozen and exhausted on this trip, and now he was terrified to hope anymore.

"Of course, sweetie," I murmured, picking him up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

We fought our way through the thickets with an excited buzz about us, but when we emerged to the other side and saw that buzz died instantly.

The place had been burned to the ground. The field lay in scorched ruins with debris littered about the once fertile soil. There was nothing left of the barn save for its blackened frame. In fact, the only thing that was still standing was the old farm house, and even it had not gone untouched. Part of the roof was blacked and burned through so that you could see right into the attic.

We stared at the wreckage, with our mouths agape. No one dared speak. Collin started crying silently in my arms, while Beth's baby loudly proclaimed her displeasure.

I stumbled a few steps ahead, feeling my body go numb, and memories of that night at the camp danced before my eyes. The fire, the screams, the blood, I saw it all. I didn't even realize when I had started crying. Tears streamed unchecked down my cheeks, and I had to set Collin back on his feet, before I started quivering.

It had all been in vain.

That was my only thought. That this big ruse had all been in vain. If the farm was gone then that meant that August and my dad were dead.

"America?" a voice called to me, and when I looked up, my heart jumped into my throat. My father was standing on the porch of the farm house with August and Georgia, and he looked so relieved to see me.

I started running and didn't stop until I was in his arms. "Kitten, I thought I had lost you." He was crying now, and I couldn't help, I fell apart in his arms. My tears obscured my sight, so that I didn't see August beckoning to the others.

"Dad, I thought that you were dead," I sobbed. "The – the farm, it was burned down, and – and…"

"Shhh, it's okay, Kitten. I've got you. You're safe now."

"Dad," I croaked, my voice growing hoarse. I'm not even going to lie. Right then, and there in my father's arms, I felt so much safer than I had in months, and I just knew that everything would be okay.

"YOU DID WHAT?" my father hissed.

I had tried to hold off on telling him about my "alliance" with Maxon until I absolutely had to, but it couldn't be helped, I had to tell him and August.

"Calm down, Shalom," August said in that voice of his that could pacify anyone. "This could be beneficial to us."

"It's insane. She had no idea what she was doing, leaving Keller there all by herself. Who knows what they're doing to her? They're probably torturing her for information on our location as we speak!"

"I don't think so," August countered, giving me a pensive look that made me blush. "I believe that your trust was properly placed in Maxon."

"He's the good one," Georgia said, sitting a bowl of lukewarm chicken noodle soup in front of me. "What exactly was your agreement, America?"

"That he'd help supply us with food and medical supplies and divert the soldiers so that we could all converge and try to, um, not…die…" I said in between spoonfuls of soup

"Well, I think we need to renegotiate," my dad said, looking to August.

"Don't look at me. America is on speaking terms with him. If I show up, he'll think I'm trying to rip the throne out from beneath him, which I have no plans of doing, and it will be a disaster," he said, frowning, and I couldn't help but think about how much he looked like Maxon then.

"Well, why don't we just tell her what to say or send her with a note?" Georgia asked, putting a hand on her hip.

"We could do that," my father agreed, but everything seemed to hinge on August's decision.

"No. Knowing your daughter she's likely to sound like she's being forced to say it, and he'll pull his support."

"I don't understand why we can't just take what we have right now?" I muttered, when my spoon started scraping on the bottom of the bowl. "Can't we just be content with this, and try to gain his trust?"

"Now, that is what I've been waiting for you to say the entire time," August said, grinning. "We will take the prince's charity, for now."

"But, August…" my dad started.

"No, Shalom, your daughter is right," he said, then turned to me. He had a gleam in his eye. "I'll be needing you to back to Angeles soon, very soon actually, to tie up loose ends, secure supply lines…check on Kel…the like…I know it'll dangerous, but this entire business is. Don't you agree?"

"Yea…" I murmured nervously.

Putting a hand on my shoulder, while my father looked on, his gaze tinged with worry, Georgia asked, "Are you ready, then?"

That was actually a very good question. One that I didn't have an answer for.

Could I go back so soon? After everything that had happened to me there? Could I do this? WasI ready?

"Of course," I breathed nervously.

Because none of the things that had happened to me mattered, I was one me, and there were thousands of people out there scared for their lives. This was so much bigger than me, or August, or my dad, or Maxon, or Kel. And, in the end I knew that it didn't matter whether I thought I was ready or not, because no matter what, I had to be.

I am SO sorry, I got super busy, but I promise I'll start updating weekly again! Also I might start an AU based off of an idea I got when I read the teaser for the next book "The Heir," And by might I mean that it will probably be up in the next two days if I do. Anyway, stay warm! And I think the chapter is fixed now...

-FF