景观渐渐变了，刚开始很细微，并不容易察觉，只觉得道路窄了，也更崎岖了，很久没有人维修的样子。接下来，骑在自行车上也不容易平衡了，前轮老是辗过一些石子和坑洞。
有一天晚上，乔纳思撞上石头，跌了下来。他赶紧伸手护住加波，幸好小宝宝牢牢地绑在座椅上，没有受伤，只不过在自行车倒地的时候吓了一跳。但是乔纳思的手腕扭到了，膝盖擦伤了，鲜血从他擦破的裤管滴了下来。他痛苦地直起身子，扶起自行车，并仔细检査加波的身体。
他逐渐淡忘了对侦察机队的恐惧，开始在白天上路，但是新的恐惧又出现了，因为不熟悉的景致，隐藏着他难以理解的危险。
树木越来越多，道路边的森林漆黑、浓密又神秘。溪流不时出现，他们也经常停下来喝水。乔纳思小心地洗着受伤的膝盖，碰到擦伤的皮肉时，忍不住缩了一下。原本肿大、疼痛的膝盖，在冷冽的山涧溪流浸泡下，终于慢慢地消肿、不痛了。
他重新体认到，加波的安全全靠他的毅力。
有一天，他们看见从没见过的瀑布，也看见从没见过的野生动物。
“飞机！飞机！”加波大叫。乔纳思虽然已经好几天没有看见飞机，耳边也没听见飞机引擎的声音，他还是不加思索地冲进树林，将自行车停在灌木丛里，然后伸手捉住加波。加波胖胖的小手指向天空。
他惊恐地抬起头来。还好，不是飞机。他从没亲眼见过这样的生物，但透过他那日益消退的记忆，他认出那是经常出现在传授人记忆库中的动物——鸟。
很快，路边出现了很多飞上飞下、啁啾鸣叫的鸟。他们也看到鹿。有一次，看见一只有着红棕色皮毛、一条粗尾巴的小动物，站在路边好奇地看着他们，一点也不害怕。乔纳思不知道叫什么，就放慢自行车的速度。他们彼此好奇地张望着，直到那只小动物转身，跑进森林里不见了踪影。
所有的事物是如此新奇，让他内心充满敬畏。过去的生活单纯到每桩事都可以预期，现在竟然是每转个弯都会遇见令他惊奇的事物。他一次又一次地放慢自行车的速度，充满欣喜地看着路边的野花，欣赏着身旁小鸟婉转的歌唱，或风儿吹动林间树叶的姿态。在社区生活的十三年间，他从未经历过这般生动的幸福与快乐。
但是，他的内心也同时隐藏着绝望的恐惧。最大的恐惧是他们可能挨饿。现在他们远离耕作区，已经不太可能找到食物了。他们上次在最后一个耕种区收集来的马铃薯和胡萝卜，存量不多，吃完以后，就什么都没有了。最近，他们经常饿着肚子。
乔纳思跪在溪边，想用手去抓鱼，但徒劳无功。于是改用石块砸，结果还是无效。他失望极了，但依然绞尽脑汁,利用加波毯子上的绳子，缠住一根根弯弯的枯枝，做出一张代用鱼网。
经过无数次的尝试，这张鱼网竟然捕到两条滑溜溜的小银鱼。乔纳思找了一块尖锐的石头，把鱼切成小段，一些喂加波，自己也吃一些。他们还吃了一些莓子。本来还想捉一只鸟，但是没有成功。
到了晚上，加波安稳地睡在他身边，乔纳思却睡不着，饥饿折磨着他，让他想起以前在社区时，每天每户人家都可以收到餐点。
他试着运用逐渐模糊的记忆，自己创造出一份大餐，还加上短暂的扑鼻香味：陈列着大块烤肉的宴会；摆满了厚厚奶油蛋糕的庆生会，结实累累的水果迎着阳光垂挂在枝头。
但是当记忆退去的那一刻，痛苦、噬咬心田的空洞立即漫上他的心头。乔纳思突然闪过小时候的记忆，他曾经因为用错一个“饿死了”的词，而被严厉地责骂。大家告诉他，你绝不可能饿死。
现在他就快要饿死了。如果他仍留在社区里就不会有这样的遭遇。事情就是这么简单，他曾希望可以选择，但真正面临选择的机会时，他却选错了。他选择离开，所以现在要挨饿。
如果他留下来……
他继续思考，如果他留下来，他会在其他方面挨饿，也会因为生活中缺乏感觉、色彩和爱而处于精神上的饥饿状态。
加波呢？加波如果还留在那儿，根本连命都没了。所以那里不是选择留下的地方。
吃不饱，让乔纳思骑起自行车来，犹如在打一场硬仗。
他同时体认到他正在翻越长久以来梦寐以求的事物：山丘。
他奋力地蹬着自行车，受伤的膝盖传来阵阵抽痛，但他还是拼命向前。
气候也跟着变了，一连下了两天的雨。乔纳思不曾看过雨，虽然他在记忆中经历过，也很喜欢雨，很享受那冰凉的感受。但现在可不同了，他和加波又冷又湿，衣服一直干不了，就连偶尔露个脸的太阳也无济于事。
在这段漫长、可怕的旅程中，加波都没有哭，直到这一刻，饥寒交迫，身子虚弱，他才哭了出来。乔纳思也哭了，除了和加波相同的理由外，他流泪是因为害怕自己救不了加波！他已经不在乎自己了。
Chapter 23
Jonas felt more and more certain that the destination lay ahead of him, very near now in the night that was approaching. None of his senses confirmed it. He saw nothing ahead except the endless ribbon of road unfolding in twisting narrow curves. He heard no sound ahead.
Yet he felt it: felt that Elsewhere was not far away. But he had little hope left that he would be able to reach it. His hope diminished further when the sharp, cold air began to blur and thicken with swirling white.
Gabriel, wrapped in his inadequate blanket, was hunched, shivering, and silent in his little seat. Jonas stopped the bike wearily, lifted the child down, and realized with heartbreak how cold and weak Gabe had become.
Standing in the freezing mound that was thickening around his numb feet, Jonas opened his own tunic, held Gabriel to his bare chest, and tied the torn and dirty blanket around them both. Gabriel moved feebly against him and whimpered briefly into the silence that surrounded them.
Dimly, from a nearly forgotten perception as blurred as the substance itself, Jonas recalled what the whiteness was.
"It's called snow, Gabe," Jonas whispered. "Snowflakes. They fall down from the sky, and they're very beautiful."
There was no response from the child who had once been so curious and alert. Jonas looked down through the dusk at the little head against his chest. Gabriel's curly hair was matted and filthy, and there were tearstains outlined in dirt on his pale cheeks. His eyes were closed. As Jonas watched, a snowflake drifted down and was caught briefly for a moment's sparkle in the tiny fluttering eyelashes.
Wearily he remounted the bicycle. A steep hill loomed ahead. In the best of conditions, the hill would have been a difficult, demanding ride. But now the rapidly deepening snow obscured the narrow road and made the ride impossible. His front wheel moved forward imperceptibly as he pushed on the pedals with his numb, exhausted legs. But the bicycle stopped. It would not move.
He got off and let it drop sideways into the snow. For a moment he thought how easy it would be to drop beside it himself, to let himself and Gabriel slide into the softness of snow, the darkness of night, the warm comfort of sleep.
But he had come this far. He must try to go on.
The memories had fallen behind him now, escaping from his protection to return to the people of his community. Were there any left at all? Could he hold on to a last bit of warmth? Did he still have the strength to Give? Could Gabriel still Receive?
He pressed his hands into Gabriel's back and tried to remember sunshine. For a moment it seemed that nothing came to him, that his power was completely gone. Then it flickered suddenly, and he felt tiny tongues of heat begin to creep across and into his frozen feet and legs. He felt his face begin to glow and the tense, cold skin of his arms and hands relax. For a fleeting second he felt that he wanted to keep it for himself, to let himself bathe in sunlight, unburdened by anything or anyone else.
But the moment passed and was followed by an urge, a need, a passionate yearning to share the warmth with the one person left for him to love. Aching from the effort, he forced the memory of warmth into the thin, shivering body in his arms.
Gabriel stirred. For a moment they both were bathed in warmth and renewed strength as they stood hugging each other in the blinding snow.
Jonas began to walk up the hill.
The memory was agonizingly brief. He had trudged no more than a few yards through the night when it was gone and they were cold again.
But his mind was alert now. Warming himself ever so briefly had shaken away the lethargy and resignation and restored his will to survive. He began to walk faster on feet that he could no longer feel. But the hill was treacherously steep; he was impeded by the snow and his own lack of strength. He didn't make it very far before he stumbled and fell forward.
On his knees, unable to rise, Jonas tried a second time. His consciousness grasped at a wisp of another warm memory, and tried desperately to hold it there, to enlarge it and pass it into Gabriel. His spirits and strength lifted with the momentary warmth and he stood. Again, Gabriel stirred against him as he began to climb.
But the memory faded, leaving him colder than before.
If only he had had time to receive more warmth from The Giver before he escaped! Maybe there would be more left for him now. But there was no purpose in if-onlys. His entire concentration now had to be on moving his feet, warming Gabriel and himself, and going forward.
He climbed, stopped, and warmed them both briefly again, with a tiny scrap of memory that seemed certainly to be all he had left.
The top of the hill seemed so far away, and he did not know what lay beyond. But there was nothing left to do but continue. He trudged upward.
As he approached the summit of the hill at last, something began to happen. He was not warmer; if anything, he felt more numb and more cold. He was not less exhausted; on the contrary, his steps were leaden, and he could barely move his freezing, tired legs.
But he began, suddenly, to feel happy. He began to recall happy times. He remembered his parents and his sister. He remembered his friends, Asher and Fiona. He remembered The Giver.
Memories of joy flooded through him suddenly.
He reached the place where the hill crested and he could feel the ground under his snow-covered feet become level. It would not be uphill anymore.
"We're almost there, Gabriel," he whispered, feeling quite certain without knowing why. "I remember this place, Gabe." And it was true. But it was not a grasping of a thin and burdensome recollection; this was different. This was something that he could keep. It was a memory of his own.
He hugged Gabriel and rubbed him briskly, warming him, to keep him alive. The wind was bitterly cold. The snow swirled, blurring his vision. But somewhere ahead, through the blinding storm, he knew there was warmth and light.
Using his final strength, and a special knowledge that was deep inside him, Jonas found the sled that was waiting for them at the top of the hill. Numbly his hands fumbled for the rope.
He settled himself on the sled and hugged Gabe close. The hill was steep but the snow was powdery and soft, and he knew that this time there would be no ice, no fall, no pain. Inside his freezing body, his heart surged with hope.
They started down.
Jonas felt himself losing consciousness and with his whole being willed himself to stay upright atop the sled, clutching Gabriel, keeping him safe. The runners sliced through the snow and the wind whipped at his face as they sped in a straight line through an incision that seemed to lead to the final destination, the place that he had always felt was waiting, the Elsewhere that held their future and their past.
He forced his eyes open as they went downward, downward, sliding, and all at once he could see lights, and he recognized them now. He knew they were shining through the windows of rooms, that they were the red, blue, and yellow lights that twinkled from trees in places where families created and kept memories, where they celebrated love.
Downward, downward, faster and faster. Suddenly he was aware with certainty and joy that below, ahead, they were waiting for him; and that they were waiting, too, for the baby. For the first time, he heard something that he knew to be music. He heard people singing.
Behind him, across vast distances of space and time, from the place he had left, he thought he heard music too. But perhaps it was only an echo.
The End
