A game of hide and seek is played over the course of a week as I avoid both Dani and my sister. Thanks to how impossibly tiny this farmhouse seems to be now, this has become a much harder endeavor than anticipated.

Though we usually sleep in a pile in the living room with dozens of blankets, pillows, and our weapons close at hand, I have decided to take over one of the rooms upstairs to get some privacy. The first few nights were unbearable, as being unable to see if anyone was safe made it impossible to sleep, and I had gotten so used to curling into Dani's side for warmth that adjusting to not having another body nearby became a chore. I've been going out on hunts earlier and coming back later once Dani's patrol shift is over just so I wouldn't have to see her, and once the game I had caught was prepared, I would go out on a long patrol just to get out of the house.

This morning is unusually quiet, and the snow seems to be amplifying my footsteps as I stalk through the woods following a pair of rabbit tracks. The silence in the forest makes it seem as though the only living humans left in the world are all back at the farmhouse, though, at this point, I would rather be here in the silence than back there.

Sparrow, who had been the most sober and clear-headed out of everyone at our little celebration, has attempted to coerce me into talking to Dani and Octavia, swearing up and down that it was an accident. The thought of talking to - or even looking at - either of them makes my chest heavy, and I'm afraid that if I do, I'll end up hitting one of them, or worse, cry. With so much constantly going on at once, the last thing I need to do is cry over it, as crying would do nothing to help the situation at all.

Not that there is a situation at hand to begin with.

No. If Octavia wants to chase after Dani that much, then that's her prerogative, and I won't stand in her way. If Dani doesn't want Octavia chasing after her, then Dani is going to have to tell my sister to back off on her own.

The image of them locking lips in the loveseat flashes once more in my brain and I groan, violently shaking my head like an etch-a-sketch in an attempt to erase it from memory. Soon after, the quarry I had been following bolts from hiding at the sound of my frustration and darts into a thicket, out of reach.

"God fucking damn it," I grumble, adjusting the strap on my quiver as I search for a new set of tracks.

The sun creeps up over the tops of the snow-dusted trees as I find another set of rabbit tracks, this set much more erratic than the one I had been following previously. They eventually even out to a slower pace, and as I creep up to a clearing, I spot it nibbling on something in the snow, the early morning sun illuminating it through the branches. In one swift motion, I knock my arrow, draw it back, and fire.

It doesn't even have time to scream, dead before it settles in the snow.

Retrieving my arrow and the rabbit, I stuff it in my game bag with the rest of this morning's catch and glance up at the sky, taking note of the time. It's still early, which means that Dani is likely still on patrol. Sighing, I heave my bag and trudge along a different memorized path, one with a quiet destination where I won't be bothered.

The cabin is empty again, as it has been since I discovered it weeks ago. The only evidence that anyone had been here is the positioning of the blankets and the ash in the fireplace, as I have been coming here nearly every morning to get some peace and quiet. I get a quick fire started to heat the place up a bit as I toss the rabbits on the kitchenette counter and start the process of dressing the meat. Lately, game has been harder and harder to find, which does nothing more than add to the rising tension back at the farmhouse.

As if we didn't just rectify that beforehand, now the tension just seems suffocating.

Deep down, I knew something like this was likely to happen, but I let myself get attached anyway despite the risks. Ordinarily, if the apocalypse wasn't my everyday life, I'd cry over it, yell at my sister, and move on, likely going to work the next day with red eyes and a puffy face, but no worse for wear. Unfortunately, since I could die at any moment given that most of the world has turned Feral, and the fact that a heavy burden lies hidden in my pocket, I can't allow myself to get caught up in feelings.

Feelings get you killed.

Perhaps I should have stopped them from drinking too much, or drinking at all since Circe is likely still around. My feelings would have been spared that way, even though an argument would have ensued and my sister would have found a way to do something stupid anyway. However selfish the thought is, at least I wouldn't have the image of her kissing Dani forever burned in my brain and making my heart feel as though it's being set on fire.

A droplet of water falls on my hand, smearing the blood from the rabbit guts as it runs down the top of my hand. I blink, confused, and another droplet falls. Only when I blink once more and my vision blurs do I realize I'm crying.

But why?

Someone in my position doesn't have the time for tears, nor do they help the situation at all.

I gasp, my throat tightening, and it's impossible to hold back anymore. I stab my skinning knife into the table, no longer caring if the action damages the blade, and I hook my elbow around my mouth to stop the desperate sounds from leaving.

'Shut up, damn it, just stop!'

But I can't. No matter how much I mentally remind myself that I'm stronger than this, that I'm better than this, that a leader doesn't cry, the tears won't listen. I yell, letting out the frustration, anger, resentment, sadness, everything, uncaring that a Feral or Widow may hear. Part of me wishes they would so I would have an excuse to hit something.

Or perhaps part of me wishes one of them would burst through the door to kill me, so I have a reason to let out the rage that has buried itself in my chest.

Breaking down over something as stupid as jealousy - not that I'm jealous, of course - is beneath me.

In fact, if it wasn't for Uncle Tommy going off and disappearing the way he did, if it wasn't for him leaving this huge responsibility on my shoulders, if it wasn't for this fucking locket, none of this would be an issue. We would have been to the CDC by now and met up with Mom, living happily ever after somewhere safe while we wait this out like Octavia keeps pestering me about. We never would have met Dani, or Josh, or Sparrow, or Leon, or any of the Cottonwood crew, and we never would have painted massive targets on our faces for the Widows. Dani then would have never been bit, and she would be safe with the others back at camp.

In a fit of rage, I rip the locket from my pocket, glaring at it as my bloody tear-streaked hands turn it over, desperate to open it, to find a purpose for the damned thing and all the suffering it's caused me. The unknown of its existence infuriates me to no end. Having no answer to the question of 'why' fuels not only my fury but also the feeling of being helpless to stop any of what's happened since it came to be in my possession. However, the blood on my hands makes it impossible to get a decent grip on it, which only fuels my rage.

"God, fucking damn it!"

I pitch the locket into the fire, where it bounces against the back wall of the fireplace and lands in the burning logs, just within sight. I crouch before the flames, glowering as I watch the locket do absolutely nothing in the intense heat. I don't know how many hours pass until the fire dies out, but I fish the locket out from the ashes, cool to the touch, and contemplate leaving the damn thing in this cabin.

The idea to take the locket to Atlanta myself flashes in my head, but I shake it away, knowing full well that if I don't go back to the farmhouse soon, the others would send a search party out for me and end up getting hurt in the process.

Sighing, I use some melted snow to wash off my hands and the locket and stuff the dressed game back into my game bag after carefully wrapping them in cloth. With the guts and inedible parts buried in the back, I shoulder the meat and my bow and quiver and march back to the farmhouse. It's close to noon by the time the back of the farmhouse comes into view, with Sparrow on the back porch looking relieved to finally see me.

"Hey," he greets, attempting to sound cheery. "You've been gone for a while this morning, everything okay?"

I nod with a non-committal hum. "Just wanted to get some fresh air."

"Uh-huh," he drawls. "You know, Dani was looking for you earlier when she got back from patrol. She said she couldn't find you anywhere."

I wave to let him know I heard him as I enter the house, putting the rabbits on the kitchen counter as I prepare the spit to roast them. Felix and Octavia are sitting in the living room, with Felix doodling something in a sketchbook he found and Octavia reading another one of the trashy novels she found in the library. I can feel her gaze as I work, though I opt to remain quiet as I set up the spits.

"When'd you skin them?" She finally asks, and I stiffen at her voice.

"This morning," I answer bluntly.

Silence befalls the downstairs once more as I attempt to get the spit racks to settle, but of course, when I'm in a hurry to leave and not be seen, the racks decide to be difficult.

"You were gone for a while," Octavia notes.

"Just wanted some fresh air," I bite back, hoping she gets the hint that I don't want to talk to her right now.

"For a whole week?"

My hand slips as I attempt to jam the spit into the rack and my hand tears across the prods, ripping into the palm of my hand. Swearing, I tuck my bloody hand to my chest in a vain attempt to dull the pain.

"Yeah, Octavia," I spit, bolting to my feet and whirling on my sister. "Is there a problem with that?!"

Her expression is guilty as she watches me, her eyebrows crease with worry as she closes her book, and the pitying look she gives me only stokes the fire.

I roll my eyes, guilt beginning to simmer under the burning anger, and I grumble, "Gonna patch this up," as I storm up the stairs to the room I had claimed for the past week, hoping to avoid Dani if at all possible. With my hand on the knob, the door across the hall opens and Dani pokes her head out, looking surprised when she sees me.

She opens her mouth to speak, but she barely gets my name out of her mouth before I dart into my room, close the door behind me, plopping on the bed, and digging out my first aid kit.

A soft knock sounds at my door, but I ignore it, wincing in pain as I flex my fingers to gauge the damage. It's no worse than a surface wound luckily, though the healing part is going to suck.

"Cass?" Dani's voice is cautious and quiet through the door. "Are you okay?"

I remain silent, opening the first aid kit and setting to work on cleaning the cut, though it's difficult to do with one hand.

"There's blood on your doorknob, are you alright?"

Her voice is much more worried now, but I remain quiet as I clean the cut, hissing as the rubbing alcohol does its work.

"I'm coming in," Dani says, and I'm reminded much too late that I forgot to lock the bedroom door as I attempt to lunge to close it back in her face.

Dani stares wide-eyed at me as the first-aid kit clatters to the floor, spilling the contents everywhere. I quickly grab a chunk of gauze and squeeze it in my injured hand as Dani watches carefully, her mouth slightly open as if she wants to help.