Morning came too quickly, bringing with it the cold, biting wind that made every inch of my body ache. The fire had long since gone out, leaving only faint wisps of smoke curling into the air.
Alex was already up, of course. He was crouched a few feet away, going through our pathetic pile of supplies with his usual scowl.
I stretched cautiously, biting back a groan as every sore muscle screamed in protest. My injured leg throbbed sharply, the dull ache flaring with every slight movement. It felt like a hot knife twisting just below my knee, the kind of pain that made you second-guess even breathing too hard. "What's the plan?" I asked, my voice still hoarse from the crying fit last night.
Alex didn't look up. "We keep moving."
