Sarah Lyons Fleming Until The End Of The Worl... -

The sky over the Blue Ridge Mountains wasn't blue anymore; it was the color of a bruised plum, choked with the smoke of a world that had finally stopped spinning.

A (the city, a safe house, or out on the road?)

Both were on their feet in a second. Peter gripped the hatchet, the weight familiar and cold. Nora leveled her crossbow. They didn't exchange words; they didn't need to. In this world, love wasn't poetry or flowers. Love was a sharpened blade and a steady hand. Love was making sure the person standing next to you kept breathing for one more sunset. Sarah Lyons Fleming Until The End Of The Worl...

It had been three years since the Collapse—since the "Hungry" had turned the bustling streets of New York into a graveyard. He often thought of Cassie and the others, wondering if they were still hunkered down in their fortified sanctuary or if the world had finally caught up to them, too. "You’re brooding again," a voice called from the doorway.

"The walls are fine," she snapped, though there was no heat in it. She sat beside him, the physical proximity a rare comfort. "We have the garden. We have the perimeter wire. We’re still here." The sky over the Blue Ridge Mountains wasn't

Down the hill, the perimeter bells jingled—a soft, frantic tinny sound.

Peter sat on the porch of the cabin, the wood groaning under his weight. In his lap lay a rusted hatchet and a sharpening stone. Scritch. Scritch. Scritch. The sound was the only thing keeping the silence of the woods from swallowing him whole. Nora leveled her crossbow

If you want to focus on from the series (like Cassie or Nell)