Sometimes her heart aches for home. For the familiar. She misses their friends, she feels like a traitor. But they can't go back. None of them can. Not with all that's happened, all that could happen. They had to run, they had to. Although there were a few nights, when she was so homesick she physically ached, that she made him whisper that to her. We had to run.

Most of the time they have fun, they can forget why they're travelling and just have a good time exploring. She swears they'll go across some ocean soon but right now, while their mothers are alive, she can't stand the idea of going that far. Just in case.

They're on some back road in Georgia (or maybe it's Mississippi, she fell asleep at one point). It's the closest they've been to home in almost a year, she knows that much. As she gazes up at the sky, she thinks the stars look more familiar this close to home. She almost remarks on it before she feels the truck dip, just a little, with his weight as he climbs into the bed of it. She lifts one corner for him so he can climb beneath it. It's getting colder but it's not unbearable. "They really are," she murmurs softly, offering him a smile. "There's so many."