The sun . . . the thing I’d dreamed of seeing all these years was jeopardizing everything. The escape almost within reach, the freedom I could feel in the breeze whipping my dirty, blood-streaked hair around my face, and the life I’d clung to with such quiet fervor I wondered if the Hunters hadn’t managed to break me after all. I lifted my hand to block the sharp rays burning my corneas and tried to control my growing terror. Have to move. Have to run.
