A short bite of fiction from a bigger piece of work. |
The rain slips through her hair, down taut cheeks, pulling at her color, the jet hair and pooling in the division of red lips, hungry to wash away all hue, clean away all impurity. The sky is the accomplice, a melavolent canopy, concealing the danger within the brush and forest around her.
She stands perfectly still, her body that of a girl, tight up against a tree, concealed and invisible but for a pair of hard blue eyes that skim the ground before her, seeking the movement of enemies. The knife edge control slips and her fists clench involuntarily. The sounds of her enemy reach her ears, the heavy sounds of large animals moving through the bush a painful sound in among the steady and rhythmic fall of rain upon soft undergrowth. Her breathing deepens, preparing herself for the chase. Deeply, deeply, she inhales and gently releases her fingers from fists. Holding them up to her face, the girl child frowns. Her fingers are dirty, stained and bloody. Unrecognisable as her own. Her fingers desperately rub at the dirt. I can't remember the last time I looked into a mirror, tied back my hair with ribbon. Washed in warm water. The crunch of snapping branches jerks her head up. No time...so little time... She turns away from her hunters, turns her face toward Sherreyla. It will take days to reach a Haven. Days she did not have. Energy she had long ago spent, but her face is hard as she begins to run. The sky continues her shower, falling tears upon parched earth. |