Infinite by Jodi Meadows Page B

evidence of the caravan of exiles passing through, though when I bent, I found snapped blades of frozen grass and twigs, crushed into smeared vehicle tread marks. Time and weather would erase those, and the four of us would leave even fewer traces.
    “We should get far enough away from the lab that the drones won’t find us quickly,” Whit said. His voice was harsh on the still night. “And we should get off the path, because won’t that be the next guess? We left the lab and took the path?”
    Stef nodded. “I don’t like that it’s so obvious.”
    I drifted along the edge of the path, searching for . . . something. I wasn’t sure.
    “What are you thinking?” Sam appeared beside me, a warm, dark presence that calmed and excited me. We’d had no time alone, except for the moments before sleep, and those had been exhausted moments, separated by our bedding and a small stretch of floor. We were just close enough that we could see each other and reach to touch, but no more. If we’d been closer, if he’d been holding me at night and I’d kissed him, I don’t know that I would have ever stopped.
    I turned my face to the stars. “What do you see?”
    “The sky.” He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling himself close. “Lots and lots of sky.”
    “How often do labor drones clear this path?” We were outside of Range now, beyond where people regularly traveled. There was no reason for the path to be so clear. Even the trees above looked as though they’d been pushed aside recently, though not with the evenness of a labor drone. The fallen branches all had jagged edges, as though they’d been ripped from the trunks.
    “Not very often.” Sam lowered his voice. “I see what you mean.”
    “What lives this way? Trolls?”
    “Yes.”
    And they traveled this way frequently enough to carve a path through the woods. “Do you think the others would have run into trolls?”
    “I don’t know.” Sam tilted his head, listening. I listened, too, to the soft voices on the trail, a pale breeze rustling pine trees, the clatter of some small creature high in cottonwood branches, and a pack of wolves howling in the distance. “I don’t hear anything unusual.”
    “Me neither. Still, I agree with Stef and Whit. We need to get off the path.”
    We turned toward our friends again, but just as Sam began to speak, a deafening screech came from above.
    Everyone looked up at once.
    It was shaped like an eagle, but big enough to block out half the sky.
    “What is that?” I whispered, dreading, feeling I already knew.
    Sam grabbed my hand. “It’s a roc.”
    With another terrible screech, the roc shifted its flight. It dove straight toward us.

10
OUTSIDE
    “RUN!” SAM DRAGGED me toward the forest. We crashed through the underbrush as the roc keened and spread its wings wide.
    Branches cracked. Ice clinked and clattered from above. Talons thumped on the ground behind us. Stef screamed, and I spun to look for her—catching a glimpse of broad brown wings and dark raptor eyes—but Sam jerked me back.
    “Come on.” His voice was rough, the order leaving no room for argument.
    I stumbled after him, struggling to avoid getting caught in the brush. Rocks and branches and ice snagged at me, but I pushed on with renewed energy when the roc cried and thrashed through the woods. Tree trunks groaned, and huge talons reached after us.
    On the ground, chasing prey through the woods, the roc had terrible coordination. Its talons knocked a small tree aside, and they left gouges in the earth as the roc withdrew. Sam and I pushed onward, climbing a small hill, darting around trees. Patches of snow made me slide, but I hauled myself up every time. The forest was quiet, aside from our passage. No birds or small animals made a sound as the roc struggled to reach us.
    But its size hindered it now. It couldn’t move through the forest, though surely it could hear our escape. Maybe even our gasping and my whimper as twigs scraped my