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Where modesty's ill manners, 'tis but fit that impudence and malice pass for wit.
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((Lillian Hayes continued from Where Do You Go from Here?))

One of Aaron's followers was definitely still following him, despite her body's protests. Lily felt an oppressive weight on her muscles, like they were turning into sacks of pudding. Her steps began to falter behind Aaron's, to the point that Aaron almost left her field of vision, vanishing into the trees. Whenever that happened, Lily frowned and forced herself into a running gait until she was right behind Aaron again, then went back to walking. Thus the process repeated for most of the third night and the fourth morning.

As Aaron turned and smiled at a camera for reasons that escaped her, Lily considered talking to him, asking him if it was possible to sleep. His gang had marched through the woods for the what felt like an entire day; she knew that she kept going from dusk to dawn with no sign of stopping. Now that she thought about it, was anyone else still following the two of them? She hadn't heard a peep from Aileen for hours, and truth be told, she was afraid to turn her head and find no trace of her behind her. As for Richard, well, she would be surprised if Richard hadn't dropped when the sun went down.

She opened her mouth, then reconsidered. Aaron was the man with the plan, and she was more than willing to follow him to the letter. Stopping to rest now would recharge them, sure, but for every hour they rested, someone else would likely die. Too many people had died already. This was just a test of Lily's endurance, and she didn't want to fail. There was too much at stake.
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

Turning Pages: Read some books along with me, why don't you?

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Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
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When My Fist Clenches, Crack It Open · The Woods: Inland