Book 15: Epilogue: In the Deadlands

Lexa

Summer sunlight sweeps across the trembling fields of wheat–a wash of pure gold against the emerald face of the mountains just beyond. I lift my face to the sun and breathe in, letting the scent of what will be another prosperous harvest fill my lungs. It smells like… bread. Bread and apples. Bread and roasting meat. Bread and the ever burning fire at the center of the village, where lively chatter rises above the crackling embers, above the stretch of a laundry line being raised, above the sound of shutters opening and mothers calling out for their children to come brush their teeth before running off to play.

Goddess, it’s good to be home.

“Lexa! LEXA!” Chessie’s voice rips down the road, followed by her pounding booted footsteps as she races in my direction. I turn, catching her in the glare of the early morning sun, her wild blonde hair tousled from sleep–unbrushed–and her dress–the first dress I’ve seen her wear in over six months–wrinkle