Arena One: Slaverunners (Book #1 of the Survival Trilogy)

urges me to keep climbing. The more time I spend alone these days, the stronger Dads voice is becoming in my head. I resent it and want to block it out, but somehow, I cant

If Bree would just flip back the calendar, shed see it right there, the old year, in big, tacky letters: 2117. Obviously, three years old. I tell myself shes just too caught up in her excitement to check closely. This is what I hope. But lately, a part of me is beginning to suspect that she really knows, that shes just chosen to lose herself in fantasy. I cant blame her

What Bree refuses to see is that winter comes early up here. Were high up in the Catskills, and here, theres a different sense of time, a different turn to the seasons