Birdy is falling behind. It’s been a week since they left the Fort--a week where they’ve had to stop every few hours for Birdy; a week where Dredge ended up having to abandon her shoes to her backpack because of her feet swelling and blistering; a week where Runner and Tooth came back with the single biggest fire gecko Lucinda had ever seen, had butchered it and portioned it out three nights running with brutal efficiency; a week where Photo had snapped shot after shot of all of them, making faces, mid-chew, sprawled on the ground before dawn, at least half a dozen shots of the night they found the creek and spent three hours in the water as the sun sank and the air cooled and they all started to freeze--and it’s been a week where Birdy keeps going slower and slower. It’s fine, she’s pregnant, she can’t be feeling well. Today, though, she’s dragged Runner back with her, and they’re leaning together, talking in hushed voices.
Tooth and Watch are both leading today, bumping elbows as they walk. Photo has attached herself to Drummer and Burn, instead of Siri, and Drummer regularly picks her elbow up to use the top of Photo’s head as an armrest. Photo giggles and shakes her off every time, shoves her side. Dredge meanders back and forth, from Birdy and Runner bringing up the rear, ahead in front of Lucinda to where Twist is walking. Siri walks an easy arm’s stretch behind and to Lucinda’s right.
Vegas is long behind them, her halo so faint, if it’s visible at all, that she could just not exist. The desert spreads in front of them, wide and flat and empty.
The sun is starting to sink down, finally in the west after what feels like hours of being straight overhead. Sinking fast, too. Always seems to sink fast, once you have your walking pace. Sinks fast, when you spend your time watching ten other people and a fledgling bird who’s realizing she can pester more than just you.
The sun is an hour or so from touching the horizon when Runner finally trots up to Lucinda’s side.
“Hey, uh, ma’am, Birdy’s having some trouble. We gotta stop for her, I think.”
“What sort of trouble?” Slows her pace, and Siri draws even, then drops back with them. Birdy gains on them, and Runner steps aside to let Birdy--who spend up her steps--between her and Lucinda.
“Hurts every so often. About the same amount of time each time, and I’ve been counting seconds between and they’re really regular.” Birdy looks between Lucinda, Siri, and Runner, eyes darting. “Am I going into labor?”
“Could be,” Lucinda agrees, glances over to Runner, then to Siri. Runner raises her eyebrows, grimaces, Siri gives the faintest shrug. “We should stop soon, anyway. It’s about time to set up for the night.”
“What do I do if I’m going into labor?” Birdy asks, desperate edge in her voice. “I don’t--it’s not clean out here, what if I get an infection? What if I get sick? What if I bleed out? I’ve heard that happens to some women, you know, and I don’t wanna--” she sucks a deep breath, breathes in and out three times until her voice is level again. “I don’t want to bleed out on the desert floor because I’m giving birth.”
“We’ll make sure you don't,” Lucinda agrees. “It’ll be alright, Birdy. We’ll make sure it is.”
“Can you really?” Birdy asks, her voice low. It’s a question, maybe. “Because I’ve heard of a lot of people bleeding out no matter how hard the midwife tried.”
“You’re a strong girl,” Lucinda replies. “It might not be easy, but you’ll do alright.”
“I don't know,” Birdy replies, voice still low. “There’s only so much I can control.”
“You’ll do alright,” Lucinda repeats. Says it as an order, like she can make the world bend to her will if she says it with enough certainty, like she can make death itself step aside if she speaks with enough intent. “I’m going to call camp.”
She speeds up, goes to inform the others. Birdy leans into Runner’s side, and Siri joins the huddle, wraps her am across Birdy’s shoulders and the middle of Runner's back, bumps Birdy between them as Lucinda calls everyone in.
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timeasmymeasure
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (13/?)
Date: 2016-03-04 03:08 pm (UTC)Birdy is falling behind. It’s been a week since they left the Fort--a week where they’ve had to stop every few hours for Birdy; a week where Dredge ended up having to abandon her shoes to her backpack because of her feet swelling and blistering; a week where Runner and Tooth came back with the single biggest fire gecko Lucinda had ever seen, had butchered it and portioned it out three nights running with brutal efficiency; a week where Photo had snapped shot after shot of all of them, making faces, mid-chew, sprawled on the ground before dawn, at least half a dozen shots of the night they found the creek and spent three hours in the water as the sun sank and the air cooled and they all started to freeze--and it’s been a week where Birdy keeps going slower and slower. It’s fine, she’s pregnant, she can’t be feeling well. Today, though, she’s dragged Runner back with her, and they’re leaning together, talking in hushed voices.
Tooth and Watch are both leading today, bumping elbows as they walk. Photo has attached herself to Drummer and Burn, instead of Siri, and Drummer regularly picks her elbow up to use the top of Photo’s head as an armrest. Photo giggles and shakes her off every time, shoves her side. Dredge meanders back and forth, from Birdy and Runner bringing up the rear, ahead in front of Lucinda to where Twist is walking. Siri walks an easy arm’s stretch behind and to Lucinda’s right.
Vegas is long behind them, her halo so faint, if it’s visible at all, that she could just not exist. The desert spreads in front of them, wide and flat and empty.
The sun is starting to sink down, finally in the west after what feels like hours of being straight overhead. Sinking fast, too. Always seems to sink fast, once you have your walking pace. Sinks fast, when you spend your time watching ten other people and a fledgling bird who’s realizing she can pester more than just you.
The sun is an hour or so from touching the horizon when Runner finally trots up to Lucinda’s side.
“Hey, uh, ma’am, Birdy’s having some trouble. We gotta stop for her, I think.”
“What sort of trouble?” Slows her pace, and Siri draws even, then drops back with them. Birdy gains on them, and Runner steps aside to let Birdy--who spend up her steps--between her and Lucinda.
“Hurts every so often. About the same amount of time each time, and I’ve been counting seconds between and they’re really regular.” Birdy looks between Lucinda, Siri, and Runner, eyes darting. “Am I going into labor?”
“Could be,” Lucinda agrees, glances over to Runner, then to Siri. Runner raises her eyebrows, grimaces, Siri gives the faintest shrug. “We should stop soon, anyway. It’s about time to set up for the night.”
“What do I do if I’m going into labor?” Birdy asks, desperate edge in her voice. “I don’t--it’s not clean out here, what if I get an infection? What if I get sick? What if I bleed out? I’ve heard that happens to some women, you know, and I don’t wanna--” she sucks a deep breath, breathes in and out three times until her voice is level again. “I don’t want to bleed out on the desert floor because I’m giving birth.”
“We’ll make sure you don't,” Lucinda agrees. “It’ll be alright, Birdy. We’ll make sure it is.”
“Can you really?” Birdy asks, her voice low. It’s a question, maybe. “Because I’ve heard of a lot of people bleeding out no matter how hard the midwife tried.”
“You’re a strong girl,” Lucinda replies. “It might not be easy, but you’ll do alright.”
“I don't know,” Birdy replies, voice still low. “There’s only so much I can control.”
“You’ll do alright,” Lucinda repeats. Says it as an order, like she can make the world bend to her will if she says it with enough certainty, like she can make death itself step aside if she speaks with enough intent. “I’m going to call camp.”
She speeds up, goes to inform the others. Birdy leans into Runner’s side, and Siri joins the huddle, wraps her am across Birdy’s shoulders and the middle of Runner's back, bumps Birdy between them as Lucinda calls everyone in.