She keeps her back to the camp as she whittles a piece of driftwood into a telephone. The refugees gathered around several pots and fire pits; hunger the only need that held absolute sovereignty at the moment. She could smell rabbit and horse flesh along with the shit, piss, and infected pus that surrounds any desperate gathering of the lost.
"Whatchya doing?"
Annalynne looks up with a smile, she has to look up with a smile, who knows when the next wound will be her last. A thin, malnourished girl holding a shredded doll in her arms looks down at her whittling ways.
"Woodcasting," Annalynne replies.
"What's that?"
"Using wood for the magics. Cutting it fine and whispering secret words. Reckon I do this and I might be able to get you and yours safe passage to Mission's Mercy."
"Ain't no such place as Mission's Mercy. Pa told me it was all lies."
"And what did your Ma say?"
The girl hesitates, "She said it's real and true. But no easy secret."
"Just so. Wise woman your Ma. What's your name, little one?"
"Zona. Zona Hear."
"I'm Annalynne Tuckle. And I'm gonna do everything in my power to help all these people, y'hear?"
Zona smiles.
And then a stray mark appears on Annalynne's cheek. It opens and blood falls along the curve of her face.
Zona clutches her doll, "You alright?"
Annalynne hides her face, "Some folks back east don't like me very much. Run along, Zona dear. I'll be fine."
She had to smile at the child even though she strongly dislikes children. She had to talk to her and give her hope even though she despises chit chat. And she has to be nice when she'd rathe be left the hell alone. Because every time someone talks ill of her it literally cuts her open.
She should have killed the bastard that did this to her when her gun was in his throat.
No comments:
Post a Comment