Page 116 of Holding Hope

Not bewilderment—wonder. Pure, childlike wonder. I’d only seen that look on her face a handful of times, always around horses. She was fascinated by them—curious, cautious, reverent.

“Yeah,” I said, unable to stop my smile. Unable to tear my eyes away from her face. “I saw them.”

A memory tugged at me—a hunting trip with Dad when I was no taller than a foal. We’d camped under the stars, a million of them scattered across the sky. He’d told me how he always kept the Big Dipper over his left shoulder so he’d know his way home. He’d told me about the books he read curled beside his mother while she knitted.

A quote flashed through my mind—John Noble Wilford:

“Mars tugs at the human imagination like no other planet. With a force mightier than gravity, it attracts the eye to its shimmering red presence in the clear night sky. It is like a glowing ember in a field of ethereal lights, projecting energy and promise. It inspires visions of an approachable world.

Avalon turned to smile at me, her hair flying wildly. She wasn’t red like Mars—not physically. But her passion, her survival, her scars, her music—all of it burned red.

During the three months I’d spent locked in my room, I’d fallen down a rabbit hole of auras and energy. It had healed something in me.

Avalon was Mars. And I was Phobos—orbiting her. Drawn to her. Following her. To be near her was to want her. To be without her was to ache for her.

Even those words felt too small. She was water. Necessary. Life-giving. Something I couldn’t imagine living without. Where she went, I would follow. Los Angeles. Texas.

Anywhere.

The early morning sun climbed higher, warming our backs as we followed the herd up the mountain. Colton led, with Avalon and me bringing up the rear.

She was doing better—slowly finding confidence, trusting Apollo. He was perfect for her: calm, steady, responsive.

We kept a steady pace, never too fast, never too slow. By the time we reached the summit, we were all breathless and several layers lighter.

The boys had stripped off their shirts, sweat glistening on their chests. Delia had hiked her wedding dress up, tucking the hem into her lace sash. Avalon wore her black camisole with my leather jacket draped over her shoulders.

“I don’t want to give the horseflies a free buffet,” she’d said. I didn’t mind. I loved her in my clothes.

“How much farther?” she asked as we rounded another curve. “I don’t want to complain, but I could really use a shower. Or food. Or both.”

“Not far,” I promised. “There’s a meadow on the other side of this mountain. Acres of green grass. A river running through the hills.”

I paused, staring at my hands. It sounded like a fairytale—something a mother would whisper while tucking her child into bed. It was how I imagined Heaven. How I hoped it would be.

I’d wanted to bring Melody here. But as she got sicker, that dream slipped away. I rarely came anymore — afraid to taint its perfection with grief.

But what better place to release animals doomed for slaughter? It’s what she would want. My selfless little sister.

I sniffled and wiped my nose with the back of my glove. “Melody calls it her favorite place she’s never been.”

Avalon’s voice softened. “She would’ve loved this. We can tell her all about it when we get home, yeah?”

Home. My head snapped up. Our eyes met. Home. Texas had always been my home. Opal Springs my sanctuary. My parents’ land, my roots.

But Avalon wasn’t talking about a place. She meant me.

“Wherever you go, Clarke,” she said, her grey eyes bright, “you’ll find me not far behind. I think I l⁠—”

“Hey!” Ethan’s shout cut her off. He galloped toward us, waving his hat wildly. “The sky! Look up!” A gust of wind nearly knocked my hat off. I looked up.

A news helicopter hovered above us, a cameraman dangling out the open door, filming everything.

Shit.

The helicopter stayed on our heels as we raced to catch up with the herd. They’d reached the clearing—running free, finally free—but now that we’d been spotted, how long would that freedom last?

How long until Hanover sent his men after them? How long until they were hauled into trailers, driven across state lines, and wrapped in deli paper?