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Crossroads (1/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:03 pm (UTC)Tags: Violence, noncon
Summary: Couriers aren’t born old and mean. It takes a hard road to get them there.
Series: Mean Old Woman
Ready for another self-indulgent background piece? No? OK!
“What’s wrong with geckos?”
Ches fidgeted, turning his knife over in his hands. He stuck his lip out, muttering something about a “little dumb blue gecko.”
Lying prone in the grass next to him, Adal put her chin on her hand. “Sun’s shining, weather’s fine. I can wait all day, boyo.”
He frowned, looking very like her. His hair curled where hers was straight, maybe, and he freckled rather than tanned, but that little scowl was the mirror image of his ma. “Babies could skin geckos,” he said, with every ounce of wisdom he could muster.
“Hold on, now.” Adal tugged at the leather of her hood. “Calling your old lady a sissy?”
Mumble mumble “mebbe not fire geckos” mumble mumble.
“That’s right, you’re not.” She parted the grass with a hand. The geckos in the meadow below were still milling about, unaware of them. “No shame in it. They’re plentiful, we hunt ‘em all the time. Half of us hunters are wearing gecko hoods now.”
“I wanna night stalker.”
“Hey now,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “You better be able to back that one up, brave hunter. I’m not letting any son-of-mine go hunting night stalkers with a knife.” He avoided her eyes. “You’re young, my boy. You have another eight years, maybe, before you’re expected to do your Trial. I was that old, anyway. Don’t set your heart. We might not even be in night stalker territory then.”
Ches stared down at the knife, the handle made of a hooked antler, just like hers. She remembered leaving him in the deers’ territory earlier that year, returning to camp to wait for him to either prove himself a hunter or a disgrace. Two agonizing days ended with him returning, triumphant, and her near bursting with pride that her boy, her shadow, her little Ches was going to be as much a hunter as she.
She reached out to tuck a lick of hair behind his ear. “What’s bothering you, dearling?”
He scowled and scratched at it, making it stand up again. “They say I’m not really Walker because I’m a by-blow.”
“Wha—who says?” The geckos below jerked to attention.
“The others,” he said, peeling apart a bit of grass to not look at her. “Alam. ‘Cause my dad’s just some Circle Junction trader you don’t even know the name of and not a Walker man.”
“Oh, I’ll whip your brother’s feet,” she said, scowling. “No shame in it, Ches.”
“Say m’soft,” he mumbled. “Can’t keep up.”
“Only because you mope about it and drag along,” she said. “We’re small, us Walker, but that means a half-blood’s still miles ahead of any townie. Bit too small; you start marrying cousins if you don’t get new blood in sometimes, and you heard the tales about the people in Box Canyon.”
“Those are just scary stories,” he said.
“Oh, that they aren’t, boyo. I saw a man with his eyes where his ears ought to be,” she said, voice hushed.
“Don’t be silly, ma.”
“Arm growing out of his nose…” She touched the back of her wrist to her face and wriggled her fingers.
Ches giggled, then tried to frown. “I mean it, ma,” he said. “I gotta prove I can.”
“You’re set on this?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, solemn.
“I teach you how, you’ll listen and heed me, no matter what I say?”
“Yup.”
“Even if it’s no?”
He stuck his tongue out. “Sure.”
Adal smiled. She reached out to tousle his hair. “We’ll bag you a night stalker.”
He sat up, eyes going bright. “Really?”
“Really truly,” she said, nodding. “We’re walking to Crossroads, boyo. I might die of pride to see you lined up with the other new hunters, young as you are and in a skin like that. I can teach you tricks to sneak up on them.” She pointed down into the meadow. “But we start with geckos. You can walk in the middle of a pack and not upset them, it’s near the same trick you use on night stalkers. Learn to cut one out, isolate it. You kill one where the others see, the rest want your blood, and you ain’t walking out alive. Hear me, my boy?”
He nodded like his head was on springs. She smiled. “It’s all in the eyes. Animals don’t like being stared at, right…”
Crossroads (2a/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:04 pm (UTC)Ches nodded, fascinated. “I heard Trevi say you could kill someone, if you did that hard enough.”
“Well, I busted plenty of noses, boyo, and haven’t managed to yet,” she said, hiking the gecko carcass higher on her shoulders. “Takes the fight right out of ‘em, though.”
The day was ending as they picked up the trail back to camp. The massive bluffs gave way to low meadows between, and lazily winding rivers. Everything was deep in shadow as they neared the lush area the Walker had claimed, the only light coming from modest fires. Between them, the adults had gathered, and Adal could hear raised voices between them. She dropped the carcass at the edge of the camp and waved a hand at her son. “Go find your brother and get started on this.”
Adal pushed into the crowd, trying to hear. They made room, cousins and further relations. All shared the same dark, hooded eyes and near-black hair, skin tan and weathered. She found Jeth midway through the pack and took his hand, twisting her fingers through his. “What’s happened?”
He pulled his hand away, expression grim. “Peda and Sen found more of the Red men near the roads. They killed some of them.”
“We’ve seen what they do!” Adal stood on her toes. Peda, one of the older hunters, stood in the center of the ring. Her apprentice, Sen, held a strange rifle, the stock blank, missing the carving and paintings of a Walker weapon. Both wore scarred hunter’s hides, a mirror of Adal’s own. “Bodies tied up to rot! People stolen from their homes!” She gestured at the people around her, voice hoarse from yelling. “We can’t kill them all, no, but we can make their march painful as we can.”
“It’s not our fight!” one of the men shouted, wearing the rough cloth of a forager. “And it’s not our way. We’re Walker. We don’t have our feet nailed down like the townies, we can move on when things get dark. It’s served us long enough.”
“So we abandon the whole region?” Sen said, a little shrill with so many eyes on him. He clutched the foreign rifle tighter. “Walker move on when we can’t hold, but that doesn’t mean we don’t fight to keep what’s ours.”
“What happens if we leave?” Adal pushed her way into the center. Jeth tugged at her hood, trying to stop her. “Huh? These aren’t raids. These bastards don’t take what they need and go back to ground. The towns they take, they mean to keep. They break the people there. We leave, what the hell are we going to come back to?”
“So we find new land!”
“It might not be our problem, but other bands?” Peda said, giving Adal an approving nod. “Our children, when they Walk? What will they find? World’s gotten smaller. Land’s getting carved up. We’re running out of places to go to.
She looked around at the group. The rest of the Walker shifted where they stood, uncertain. Adal ground her teeth. “We have to fight. We show them the world isn’t theirs to take, make them hurt, maybe drive them off. But we can’t just let them trample us down.”
“No.”
Crossroads (2b/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:05 pm (UTC)Adal shared a grudging look with the other hunters. “They walked on,” Peda said.
“When the raiders came to our forebears’ camp in Black Hills, killed many and left more injured and starving, what did they do?”
She joined in the next, grudgingly. “They walked on.”
“And when the floods took half of our band in Pueblo?”
The rest of the gathering spoke as one, We walked on. They were looking to each other, nodding. They walked on. So it had always been, when things got hard. There was always somewhere better, safer over the horizon, for those willing to Walk.
Adal sighed through her nose, frowning. “Santi, this isn’t the same,” she said. “These men aren’t one city or town or tribe. We’ve been seeing them for weeks, as we go. I don’t think we can just outrun this one.”
The elder shook his head. “We have endured this way for long enough, outlasted weather and warlords, hard road and armies greater than these.” He looked them over again, the other Walker dropping their eyes. “We will continue to.”
The group relaxed, let out a collective breath. Taking this as the final word, they began to go back to their tasks. Adal gave them a disgusted look and stomped back the way she had come. Jeth caught her arm, whispering to her, “You have to stop doing things like this.”
“What? Trying to keep us from killing ourselves?” she said, shaking him off.
“Arguing with everyone, especially people who know better than you!” He followed her to where she had left the gecko carcass. “I know you shoot at them. What happens if they follow you back? The boys—”
She shot him a thin-lipped look, nodding at them toiling over the meat. “Whatever your problem is this time, they don’t need to hear it.”
“Then don’t—” He sighed as she walked away.
Crossroads (3a/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:06 pm (UTC)So Peda, after Adal’s own heart, began leaving in the dead of night. She returned with foreign coins and a swatch of red and black feathers tied to her pack as trophies. When Adal asked, she just said, Clearing the road, a phrase reserved for dangerous animals on the trail ahead. Peda said nothing more, not asking the other hunters to risk their status. Yet soon, she was followed out by a throng of them, only a handful staying to protect the camp.
On her third night out, Adal paused, looking back at where she and Jeth had laid out their bedrolls. He stared past her, pretending not to see as he re-bound the grip on a spear, but there was a scowl on his face. Beside him, Alam was clumsily sewing up a rip in his shirt, pretending nothing was happening. Ches looked from one adult to the other, clutching his own spear.
Archly, as though addressing no one, Jeth said, “It would be very hard to teach you to be a man if I were not allowed to speak to you.”
Ches looked at him, then to his mother. “But I want to be a hunter.” He stood slowly. “I… I can have Sen teach me.”
She hugged him with one arm as they left. “Good boy. You know you’re doing something right, never let anyone stop you.”
“Is it right? They’ll shun us,” he said. “They only do that for the real bad troublemakers…”
“They can’t very well shun every hunter we have,” Adal said. “It needs to be all of us, all the way down to the apprentices. Only way to make a dent in the Red men, only way to get through to Santi.”
Ches gave her a worried look. She ruffled his hair. “Tracking men’s easier than tracking beasties. You’ll learn quick.”
Nearly every one of them, menders and foragers, gave them standoffish looks as they left on their hunts, but by Santi’s order said nothing. Ches stayed in her shadow, watching, learning, staying out of sight. She found a pistol on one of the strangers, gave it to him to practice. The other hunters indulged him, letting him lead as they tracked the Red men, falling back to stay in the dark of night while the adults went on with guns and spears.
Mostly. She felt him poke her leg. “Ma? Is that one a woman?”
Adal poked her head over the rock, looking at the group in the gully below. It was hard to tell in the dark, but one of the figures was slighter, rounder, wearing tattered clothes instead of armor. She sat, tending the fire rather than sleeping. “You see her, Sen?”
“Sure as,” he said. “They’ve all been men so far. What do you think? She’s not armed.”
“Leave her.” Adal raised herself higher, signaling to the other side of the camp. A quick wave told her the others were in position, the sentries on that side dealt with. She settled the butt of her rifle on her shoulder. “I’ve got the one with the feathers on.”
Crossroads (3b/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:19 pm (UTC)She shook her head, trying to clear it from the blast. “Ches?” She could barely hear her own voice. “Are you alright?” She stayed low, scrabbling back the way she had come. “Ches?”
He gave her a wide-eyed look, wedged between two boulders. He pointed and shouted something inaudible, and Adal felt a hot pain dig into her back. Staggering as she turned, she managed to get her rifle trained on the stranger as he raised a heavy knife. He flinched, bleeding from his shoulder, but the wild swing nicked her raised arm. Adal shouted, the sound flat and faint. The stranger readied himself for a final swing, and with a muted blast collapsed, a hole through the front of his armor.
She turned back to her son, crawling on all fours to reach him. He was climbing out of his den, unharmed, and she felt a pressure in her chest let go. Downhill, the hunters were converging on the camp. She ruffled her son’s hair, the ringing in her ears fading. Sen helped her stand, and she felt him touch her back. “You’re hurt.”
“Got some powder in my pack,” she said, feeling it.
He rummaged through for her, and waved downhill. “Come on, let’s get some light.”
The other hunters were gathering around the fire. The woman cowered between them, hands held up over her head. She was stick-thin, hair cut close and hidden under a filthy rag. Her legs and feet were bare, bruised.
Peda knelt next to her, carefully pulling her arms down. “We won’t hurt you, woman. You offered us none.”
She jerked away, landing on her rear and sliding back in the dirt. She was talking, the words accented, slurred. Adal looked over her shoulder at Sen and pointed to her neck. A metal band was fastened around it. “Our Red men are slave-takers, too?”
“It would fit, with the things we heard,” he said, and she winced when he packed the healing powder into her cuts. Adal watched the slave woman back into the legs of another hunter.
Mear, one of the men, pulled something out of a pocket, and stepped up slowly. “Here. Woman, take this. A gift.”
She pulled away, as though the bit of jerky might bite. The other hunter drew her to her feet, making her cringe. She looked between them all, eyes wide. It turned to a puzzled frown when she spotted Adal.
She felt Ches take her hand. “Is she okay, ma?”
“Shh.” She flinched away from Mear as he approached.
“Hell, Mear. The camp was all men.” She took it from him, and gently pushed him aside.
The woman looked uncertainly at them all again. Slowly, she took the lump of dried meat. ”T’ankyou?” Adal smiled at her. ”Huare yew?”
“Walker tribe,” Adal said, slow and clear. Her accent was south, more Arizona than anything. “What’s your name?”
She shook her head, babbling something incoherent, and sidled a little ways along the trail. The hunters looked to each other and shrugged. “Come on, woman,” Peda said, reaching out. “To camp. Safety.”
The slave began to run. Mear grabbed her, and she screamed, beating at him. He let go, not wanting to hurt her, and she swept up a spear, shaking it at them as she backed away. “Quiet down, woman, do you want—” Cala dodged when she swiped at her, and the slave turned to run, shouting.
“Shut her up!” Sen hissed. A few of the hunters started to follow, wincing at how her voice bounced off the hills.
“No. Let her go,” Peda called, and they slowed.
“Is she headed—?” Adal jumped at the crack of the older hunter’s rifle. The woman crumpled. “Peda! She was running!”
“She might have warned them,” Peda said, cold.
The others looked to each other, too shocked to comment. Adal put Ches behind her. “She was helpless! We could have caught her, taken her back—”
“Kidnapped her, kicking and screaming? Slow us on the way back to camp? There’s more in the hills for her to alert,” she said, heading towards the body. “We need to go, now. The collar’s enough. See if Santi can shun that away.”
Crossroads (4a/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:20 pm (UTC)No announcement was made, no orders or instructions, but word rippled through them: The Red men, the Legion, were enemies of the Walker. The shunning was to be forgotten, but no aid was to be given to the hunters. Gradually, the nightly hunts became part of life, another step of the cycle of walking, camping, and walking again. Things became mostly normal as they followed the old trails back to Crossroads.
Mostly.
Adal sat with Alam on her lap. Her rifle was laid out on a hide, carefully stripped for cleaning. “Hunters keep up their own gear,” she said. Across from her, Ches had broken down his pistol, following along. “Their guns, at least. Menders are well and good, but when you range away, you need to be independent.” She tapped the stock, carved and painted through generations. “These weapons were carried since the first of us started the Long Walk. No one touches them but the hunter who’s earned one, and the elder who keeps them and gifts them.”
“But da wants me to be a mender,” Alam said, looking up. “Teach Ches.”
“You’re five, dearling,” she said, kissing his forehead. “You don’t have to choose yet. And he doesn’t have to spell out your whole life.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because. Shush,” she said, carefully wiping grit out of a mechanism.
“He says it’s better to be a mender because we aren’t silly,” Alam said, picking at the edge of the hide. “We Walk like we should, not chase things.”
“Well, menders are boring,” Ches said. “Sit at camp and glue things up all day. I want to run around and explore!”
“Break your neck on a cliff!” Alam stuck his tongue out.
“Boys.” Ches was up on his knees, hands fisted, and Alam slid back against her to hide. “Walker needs both of them, and they do it better without fighting.”
“Da told Bern you like to fight with everyone, and are making Ches a terror.”
“Well, we’re doing good things, and your da’s too scared to fight!”
“Don’t know yours, townie!”
”Boys!” Adal stood and grabbed them each by the arms, keeping them from each other’s throats. “Stop that right now!” Others were looking up from their tasks, turning away from their fires. She knelt between them, still holding on. “Both of you apologize. Now,” she said, quieter.
“No! He’s more a terror than me!”
“Not even a Walker!”
“What’s going on?” She looked over her shoulder at Jeth, his jaw clenched. “What are you doing to my son?”
Crossroads (4b/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:21 pm (UTC)He gave her a warning look. “You want to talk about it, we aren’t doing it here.”
“Says the man poisoning my own son against me!”
“Our son,” he said, vicious. “We need to talk. Privately.”
“Just realized?” She looked at Ches. His lips were pressed tight in a frown, trying not to let them shake. “Go see if Sen needs help,” she said, and reached out to brush his hair back. He pulled away and ran before she could touch him. Adal felt a little sting in her chest.
Alam had already left at Jeth’s command. He waited for her to gather up the the guns, folding them into the hide. She stood as she finished, and dodged as he tried to take her arm. “Don’t you dare.”
He threw his hands up and walked away. She followed, noticing the glances of the other Walker who quickly looked away, hiding their annoyance and resignation, Here they go again. They passed the guards at the edge of the camp, the pack brahmin watching them as they grazed. They both were silent, seething, until the sounds of the Walker behind them were lost. “I can’t believe you,” he said, turning to her. “You and the rest of them! Walker have no business getting involved with these men, and here you are antagonizing them.”
“That’s not what this is about,” she said. “You can’t stand the idea that you can’t order me however you like, that I’m not some cringing girl—”
“It’s exactly what it’s about! All of us are being put in danger—”
“We’ll be in worse if we don’t fight!”
“You don’t need to fight everyone! Even Alam’s picked it up, you taught him to prod Ches like a brahmin—”
Their faces were inches away, and she shoved him hard in the chest. “You be real careful, mender, about what you say about my boys.”
“Don’t you lay a hand on me,” he said, teeth gritted. He recovered his balance on the hill. “They’re not just yours. You said Ches needed a man to look up to, and here you are—”
“Didn’t realize I’d picked such a coward,” she said. “Where’s your spine gone?”
“I’m standing up to you, O great hunter,” he said, bowing. “What’s that count for?”
“Nothing, in that tone,” she said. “Mockery won’t make me listen any better.”
“What does?” Jeth said, holding out his hands. “What does, Adal? You turn everything into an argument, never listen to anyone, just follow your own hard head. What does it take to get through to you?”
“A little damn respect!” she shouted. “What do you see when you look at me? Huh? Still just a struggling girl, trying to manage a babe on her own and carry her weight still, needs to be saved? Someone to fawn and call you hero?”
“That’s what you think of me?” He was face to face again, red and angry. “That this is some, some power trip that—”
“You can’t stand the fact that I—”
“Let me fucking talk! You put your own son in danger—”
“Whole damn world’s got dangerous, Jeth, better he learns—”
“Hoy!”
They both looked down the road. A group was approaching, all in the distinctive hoods of another Walker band. The hunter at their fore waved at them. “Hoy, Walker! Gabrel’s band, and Taner’s.”
“Santi’s!” she shouted back, and he pumped a fist in the air. She looked back at Jeth. “Done here.”
“Like hell.” He followed her as she greeted the newcomers, forcing a smile as she welcomed them to camp.
Crossroads (5/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:22 pm (UTC)He pushed up his hood, the salvaged cloth of a mender. “Have not,” he said, bundling up his tools. “Your man was looking for them, too. Probably playing with the new kids.”
They wouldn’t have gone far; sulking or not, they both knew better than to leave camp alone. The sun rose, and the joint band set off down the road, leaving her weaving between them as she hunted for her sons. A female voice called cadence, and she caught sight of an old woman walking beside Santi, probably Gabrel herself. Adal hummed along, half-listening, hearing giggling in the crowd. She snagged the shirt of a girl as she ran past, playing keep-away with a bottle. “Hold on, there. You seen my boys?”
She pointed back behind her and wiggled free. Adal glanced up to see two figures dodge back behind one of the pack brahmin, one taller, one shorter. She saw a figure beyond them take note, and set her teeth at the sight of Jeth. He strode towards her, grim. She kept time with the group, letting him approach. “Adal. We didn’t finish talking.”
“I was done. I don’t know about you.” They slowed a little, dropping back until most of the Walker had overtaken them. When they had a little space, she said, “This has gone too wrong.”
“It has. It’s hurting them, now,” he said. He glared as one of the Taner strangers glanced back at them. “We need to either mend this or part ways.”
They walked in silence. She watched her feet, kicking up a little dust as she went. “We used to have something good.”
He looked away, thinking. “You laughed more.”
“You were funnier.”
“We talked.”
“Argued less.” She looked over at him, considering, as he did the same. “We were younger.”
“Y…we changed,” he said. Adal saw him stroke the soft leather of his shirt, the wedding gift she had made him. I will protect you. She rubbed a thumb on the strap of her rifle, salvaged cloth with animal tracks stitched onto it, his gift to her. I will support you.
“We’re walking to Crossroads,” she said. “All the bands are converging. We can…”
“My uncle was named Elder, recently,” Jeth said. “He’ll be forming his own band here. He’s a good man, would be a good example for the boys. Either of them.”
A little stab went through her heart. “Alam’s more yours than mine,” she said, and couldn’t look at him. “Wants to be a mender.”
“He’ll need his mother,” he said.
“I can’t look after them both alone,” she said.
“So find some other man,” he said.
“What’s that—” Adal took a deep breath rather than rise to it. “Take him with you, or he and Ches might kill each other.”
“That’s a reasonable fear,” he said. They kept time with the group, listening to them recite the jody about the first splitting of the Bands. “It’s better, that we Walk different roads.”
“Yeah. End this, before we kill each other.” He didn’t smile, and neither did she. “There’s a lot of mouths to feed now. Gabrel’s folk are planning a hunt. I’ll take Ches, see if I can break it to him out there.”
“Maybe…” he said. She hesitated as she tried to walk away. “Next Crossroads, we’ll be older still. Three years is a long time.”
They looked at each other, and he tried to smile, a grimace that didn’t reach his eyes. She shook her head and lengthened her stride, leaving him behind.
Crossroads (6a/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:23 pm (UTC)“Sure,” the hunter behind her said. “Your band is all geckos, huh? Can’t work together?”
“Walk right off a cliff,” she told him. The hunters carrying the other half of the carcass laughed.
“Hers is a fire gecko, anyway,” Ches said, arms wrapped around the hide. “Have you hunted one of them with a knife?”
“No, ‘cause I’m sane,” one of them said.
He stuck his tongue out at the Gabrel man. “And mine’s gonna be a night stalker, don’t care if it’s sane.”
The hunter laughed again. “Feisty! I’ll give you Santi people that.”
They navigated the hills with the halves of the bighorner hanging between them, spear poles bending under the weight. The sun was past peak, the air starting to cool. Adal squinted at the grass ahead of them. “Was there another party headed north?”
“No. Most all of us are hunting, but none this way,” Sen said, manning the other pole. He followed her gaze to where the grass had been trampled. “Noisy sort of trail for hunters. Real big group.”
They lay the carcass down, inspecting the ground. One of the newcomers plucked something from the trail. “None of ours use casings like this,” she said, and handed it to the Gabrel, who shook his head.
Adal took it from him, a plastic tube the size of her thumb. “Shotgun. Not ours, either,” she said, a cold fear settling in her guts. “Leave the meat. We have to get back.”
“What’s wrong?” The others were passing it between them, curious.
“You know the Red men? The Legion?” she said, turning back towards camp.
“They tried to take a town we were trading with. Sent them running,” he said, following as she started to run. “They’re not…?”
“Been trading shots for weeks,” Sen said, grim.
“Shut up and run!” Adal said. Her heart was in her throat, each stride seeming to take hours. Alam. Jeth. Peda. Santi. Everyone. She ran fast and reckless until her foot slid, making her slow. She lifted it to find blood, the sole sliced on some debris, unable to feel it in her panic. The others caught up, chivvying her on, and Ches even grabbed her hand to drag her forward. Each footfall sent a stab of pain through her. Each footfall had a name, chanted in a too-slow rhythm, a prayer to find them as she had left them. Alam. Jeth. Peda. Santi. Silva. Mear. Cala...
The wind shifted, tainted by smoke. They came to a halt, breathing hard. “Sen, with me. You two, sweep east, see what you can,” Adal said. “Ches, stay put. Don’t get into trouble.”
“I’m coming with you, ma,” he wheezed, doubled over, barely able to stand after pacing the adults.
“You are not, boy. This is no game.” He flinched at the tone of her voice. “No argument. You stay.” She waved to Sen, rifle low and ready, trying to slow her breathing. They ghosted through the tall grass, circling towards the camp. Sen nudged her arm, steering them towards an overlook.
Adal had to put a hand to her mouth. The camp had been at a crossroads on the Seventy, a few shacks still standing. They burned now, along with the tents. The pavement was red with blood, one of the pack brahmin laying in pieces. Bodies were scattered the road, many hacked apart, limbs strewn like leaves. The surviving Walker cowered in the center of the crossroads. They were ringed by men in red skirts, armored, some with elaborate plumed helmets. All bore weapons, bloody blades or guns that dwarfed those of the Walker. She watched as they wove through their prisoners, splitting and sorting them into men, women and children.
Sen had slid back from the ledge, hands pressed to his face, looking ready to vomit. “Sen.” Adal grabbed him by the shoulders and made him look up. “Sen. We have to do something. We have to fight them.”
He shook his head, rocking on his heels. “My sister,” he whispered. “My father. Dead. There, in the dirt…”
“But the rest are alive!” she hissed. ”They still need our help!”
“No, no…” he moaned, pulling his hood over his eyes, tears on his face.
She slapped him hard. “Do you want to watch?” she said, and he cringed. She pushed his rifle at his chest. “I’m going to help them. I don’t care if you—”
“Hold there,” said a voice behind them in the grass, the words clipped and sharp.
Crossroads (6b/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:24 pm (UTC)“Move?” she asked, and he repeated, gesturing again and frowning. “Yes. I’ll move.” She shifted her weight to stand, and turned it into a lunge, punching him hard in the gut. He folded, and she grabbed his head, bashing his face on her knee. He fell, and she followed him down, clamping a hand over his mouth and drawing her knife over his throat. She held him there, muffling the gurgling, waiting for him to stop struggling. “They’ll have more patrolling,” she said to Sen, not bothering to wipe the blood from her. “We start with them. Knives if we can, guns if things go bad.”
He nodded, hands still over his mouth. She led him back towards the other hunters, trying to regroup and plan. If they could thin out the guards, start luring out the ones in the camp, there might be a chance. Get them to break up, give the rest of the Walker a chance to take arms.
One of the Legion men was staring towards the camp, watching the scene below. She dealt with him as she had the other, slowing his fall, grimacing at the flow of blood on her arms and hands. She heard a shout from uphill, one of the strangers leveling a gun at her. Adal sidestepped the first shot, taking aim herself and sending him reeling, and a round from Sen beside her took him down. There were more voices from the camp, one raised above the others, giving orders. She cried out as a bullet sank into her arm, moving away from the ledge.
There was a quick whistle ahead. One of the other hunters ducked back behind a rock, shooting a glance towards the road. Footsteps pounded up, an armored man charging towards her. He spotted Sen in the grass, and snapped off a blast with his shotgun before the hunter could move. He screamed, and the Red man shouted, calling his allies.
Adal tried to rush his side, but the gash in her foot slowed her. He turned to face her, the butt of his gun catching her chest and sending her sprawling. Her rifle fell out of reach, and she rolled up, slicing at his legs. He danced back, and she lunged again, the knife sinking through the thin leather of his armor and into his belly. She grabbed the shotgun and left him writhing, turning to face the others.
She fired the shotgun at her attacker, the kick of it unfamiliar, and scrambled to figure out how to cycle it. There was a lever under the stock like her own rifle, and she worked it frantically, staggering as a shot took her in the leg. She bit down on the pain and sighted on the next Legion man to try and approach. The other hunters were circling, flanking the newcomers and drawing them off. She managed to score one kill with the shotgun, another with the knife when one of the men charged, reckless.
They were too few, more Legion coming to aid. She did not see the other Walker fall, but their enemies turned to her. Adal tried to retreat, wound in her leg slowing her, terror blunting the pain as rounds bit into her shoulder, her legs. She stumbled on Sen’s body, and turned to run. Adal screamed as buckshot tore into her side, her pack taking the brunt but the pain pushing her past the breaking point. She rolled onto her back, still firing as they drew close. The shotgun ran dry, and she struggled to stand.
“Leave her alone!” a shrill voice shouted.
“Ches!” she screamed, whipping around to face him. “Run! Get out of here!”
He had her rifle on his shoulder, far too large and heavy. He fired wildly, the recoil nearly throwing it from his hands. One of the Legion men was laughing as he struggled with the stiff lever, walking up to him calmly. Adal surged up, teeth bared, lurching towards him with her knife. “Leave him! Leave him alone! Don’t—”
Ches swung it like a bludgeon, the stock cracking against the Red man’s knee. He fell, and another grabbed him, pressing the muzzle of his gun against his head. “Stop, woman,” he said. “Or the boy dies.”
Adal froze, swaying. One of the men grabbed her, twisting her arm behind her back and holding her own knife to her throat. “Take them to the road,” he said, voice cold.
Crossroads (7a/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:25 pm (UTC)The rest of the Walker were silent as they were marched down onto the crossroads, rounding the hull of an old vehicle. They prodded Ches into the group of children, the older ones holding the younger and trying to quiet their crying. Adal frantically searched the survivors, counting names, faces. Two other women were supporting Peda, her face bruised, jaw hanging broken. Santi stood in the fore of the men’s group, face grave and back straight, refusing to show fear. There was a grunt and whimper of pain behind her, and she snuck a look to see Sen had been dragged behind, leg pulped but clinging to life.
Two men held her, and the one struck her for looking. She bared her teeth and tried to break free, but the other dug a thumb into one of her wounds, a burst of pain forcing her to her knees. He gave an order to the other in a language she did not know, and moved to the center of the road. He was no larger than the others, but carried himself like a predator, his helmet feathered with red, white and black. He considered her knife a moment, face hidden under goggles and a wrap, then tucked it into his belt.
“You see now your error in trifling with the Legion,” he said, coolly looking over the carnage. “No one stands against us, and none escape us, not even the most pitiful tribe.” Adal heard a scraping sound from further down the road, growing slowly louder. “But take heart, men. You have been given a chance to cast off this savage life to be part of something greater.”
“None leave the Walk willingly,” Santi said, steel in his voice. “And no Walker will bow to slavers and murderers.”
The commander began to stroll casually through the assembly. “Very well. Then you shall be the first to be crucified, elder.” He gestured to the Walker. “Look to him, and mark well. Caesar’s Legion tolerates no disobedience; not from its soldiers, its slaves, or its women.” The scraping sound was louder, and the crowd parted to show several Walker men stalked by Red, dragging the crossed poles that lined the highways. Her heart leapt to see Jeth among them, but he was staring unseeing at the ground. “We achieve peace through this order. We will teach it, and you will learn, or die.”
The plumed Legionary had made a full circuit, and stopped in front of Adal. “All have a place. It disgusts me to see one so ignorant of theirs.” He nodded to his men. “I am loath to crucify a woman, but she barely seems one. Make an example of her first.”
Adal fought to stand, heart pounding. The one holding her dragged her off her feet, slamming her against the front of the burned out car. The metal was still hot from the sun, and she flinched away, thrashing. Her shirt had ridden up, his hand fisted in it. She dug her nails into his wrist, trying to loosen his grip, too close to him to kick effectively. Teeth bared, she bucked madly, a knee catching him in the groin and biting down on his arm, twisting to tear flesh.
He swore, letting go. Adal tried to find her feet, shaky from pain and bleeding. She was jerked back by her hood, more hands closing on her body. Her limbs were growing weak from blood loss and pain, but she struggled still. A third man held her down against the burning metal, and she tried to pull away at their touch. No longer content to hold, a hand slid beneath her shirt, fingers digging into her breast. She spat on him, screaming, swearing. The first of them loomed over her, and she pulled her knees together, cold despite the heat.
He forced a hand between her legs, the other dragging at her skirt. She looked to the rest of the Walker, watching, faces horrified, some still too shocked to grasp, some turned away. “Cowards!” she shouted. “Help me! Fight them! Walker—” Someone struck her on the face, and she felt her teeth cut into her lip. “I’ll kill you!” she screamed. “Rip put your throats, gut you—” Another blow snapped her head back against the metal. “Pluck out your eyes to—” He gave up on the skirt, and she felt a knife rake at her waist, not caring if the edge dug into her belly.
Crossroads (7b/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:26 pm (UTC)He laughed, low and cruel and hungry. She could feel him growing harder, pressed against the inside of her thigh. Adal looked to her kin again, pleading. She saw Jeth, standing slumped next to Santi as the Red men lashed him to the cross. He met her eyes, dead and staring. “Please—Jeth—” Her voice broke. “Husband, please, help—”
Jeth shuddered and turned away.
Fury bloomed in her, driving off the pain, the exhaustion burning away. She was screaming again, no longer words, just a long tear of rage and profanity. She bucked and thrashed, and the men holding her bore down. A hand closed on her throat, and she tried to snap and bite, a weight settling on her chest. He worked his fingers once more, stretching her wider, the feeling sending a hot thrill through her spine. Colored sparks ate at her vision, and she couldn’t cry out as he pushed into her, dry and painful. It was wrong, wrong, and she felt tears running from her eyes. A thin whine escaped her, a little rush of sick sensation catching her off guard
His face was wrapped and hidden, but she could smell his foul breath as he grunted, panting excitement. His hand slipped as he ground into her, and her senses returned, hearing screams and cries somewhere beyond. She screwed her eyes shut, wishing she were not here, that this was a nightmare. A piercing scream snapped her back to reality, a child—god, oh god, her boys, watching this happen. She fought to ignore the heat between her legs, not wanting it but not able to pull away, confused and revolted at the pleasure in the violation, her struggles growing weaker.
She heaved against them, but the grasping hands on her body were too greedy, clutching and feeling. She was unsure if it was blood that made his thrusts slide deep into her, smooth and sweet. Teeth gritted, she moaned through them as her back arched, hips rolling. He grunted as he spent himself, sounding like an animal, his last rough thrusts making her whimper and jerk.
One of the men holding her laughed as he withdrew. “Wanted to scream,” he said, still kneading and pinching at her breast. He let go to reach down into her, smearing his fingers with the juices there. “There’s enough of us, heathen, to make you scream until you want more.” He forced his fingers past her lips, and she fought on reflex. He was watching her, face only half-covered. She opened her mouth, biting hard on his fingers so that blood joined the taste of salt and musk.
They threw her down on the road. “We should keep this one, Livius,” the third said. The bitten one kicked her and swore, driving the air out of her. “Been a while since we’ve had one to tame.”
“No. The woman offered resistance, so she will die. There are no exceptions,” the commander said. She climbed to her knees, crawling for her discarded skirt. She fumbled at it, trying to wrap it around herself, not able to draw more than a sobbing breath. A hand closed on the back of her hood, choking her as he hauled on it. “Stand, woman.”
She tried to pull free, her limbs numb and distant. He struck her over the wounds in her back, and pain made her vision dark. Adal didn’t feel them drag her onto the cross, consciousness flickering fitfully, catching only glimpses of the Legion and Walker around her. She was sure she had died, hovering above them as they milled below, but wasn’t sure death should hurt so much. There was a scream, and she watched as though from a long ways off as Sen was raised beside her, broken leg unable to take the weight of his body. He screamed until he ran out of breath, sobbing as he tried to draw more.
Her chest and arms burned, her cuts and wounds gnawed at her. She watched, distant and incurious, as the Walker were marched away, under the weapons of the Legion. The children straggled at the back of the group, and she searched for her sons, eyesight blurred and dim. Her boys. Brave Ches, and clever Alam. Her boys.
She pulled at the ropes on her arms, already burning with strain. They were taking them, her sons, her boys…
Darkness.
Her boys…
Crossroads (8a/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:27 pm (UTC)The men’s breathing grew more labored, then more faint. She tried to call out to them, to encourage them to stay strong, but her breath was thin, and her throat was so dry she feared the tissues would break. They faded in the deep night. Darkness came in waves, waking as animals came to scavenge the fallen, lapsing as they snapped and snarled over the remains of her kin. She tried to cringe, to cover herself as the fallen Walker looked at her, accusing, standing to point and shame her. Bern, his head caved in, spat at her feet. He had never liked her. Dia, a cousin, shook her head, throat gaping open. Ter could not stand to join them, legs severed, but looked hatred at her.
Adal, hunter, fool who led the Red men here. She rolled her head to look, breath rasping thin and shallow. Santi hung limp and lifeless, but she heard his voice clearly. You never listen, he said. You argue with everyone, especially those who know better. Now you hang here, naked and shamed, to die in agony.
She looked to Sen, who could only scream and cry, having died in torment and now spending eternity in it. He cursed her, would haunt her, be there to dog her steps and foul her path. She had done this to him, led him astray. Adal tried to whisper apology, lips cracking to send blood running down her chin.
Darkness. Sound. The wild dogs were driven away by night stalkers, tails buzzing as they paced the crossroads. They reared up to nip at Sen and Santi, but were too high to reach. One came to her, head cocked, tongue flicking at the blood running down the pole.
Why did you let them take me? it asked, with Ches’s voice. You told me to fight, to be strong. But you surrendered. You gave me up. You enjoyed what they did to you, and I had to watch.
Beyond him, a smaller animal. She did not Walk as she should, it said, but Alam had never spoken so eloquently. Father was right to let her be punished.
“No,” she moaned, and the night stalkers sidled away from the sound. Gray light seeped back into the world, and it began to wake. She could feel the insects crawling in her wounds, and could not flinch as a raven landed on the crossbar near her head. She wanted to face it, let it freely peck at her, pluck out her eyes so she would not see the bodies on the ground, the blood, the pain…
The bird croaked, hopping onto her shoulder. She turned to it, the action drawing a wheeze from her. It cawed alarm, flapping further away. Her head lolled again, sending a stab through the muscles of her chest and arms. Let her die, at last. Let her die here, let it end…
A gunshot sent the bird airborne, and a wave of them from the ground. She tried to open her swollen eyes wider. People were on the road. From a long ways off, she heard talking, their voices hushed, scared. One pointed to the crosses, a hand over her mouth. Adal tried to speak, to plead, but managed only a feeble croak.
They rushed towards the foot of the pole, one man helping another climb up to her. He cut her arms first, making her slump across his shoulders. She gasped, her entire torso burning at the new position, finally able to take a full breath. She began to cough, each spasm its own agony, unable to stop, choking on the water held to her lips. They were jabbering at her, the words too fast and the accents wrong. One of them wrapped a blanket around her, and a man lifted her like a child. She moaned, her wounds hurting anew. They bundled her onto the back of a brahmin, the world fading away again.
Crossroads (8b/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:28 pm (UTC)She was too weak. They balanced her atop the pack brahmin like a parcel, traveling south. A caravan, she gathered. Traders. The women tried to get her to talk as they plied her with food and water, but she said nothing. The first night, she was not well enough to stand. The second, she limped away from their camp, holding one of the guard’s rifles and a bag of rations. Even crippled, one of the Walker was stealthier than town-bred traders like them.
The Legion had taken the Walker east. The traders had not gone far, and soon she saw tracks in the dust and dirt of men on foot. Adal used the cool of the night to make time, knowing the sun would be punishing in her state. Her legs were heavy and sore, the bullet wounds like metal spikes in her flesh. The gash on her foot reopened, slowing her, leaving blood in the dirt. As the sky lightened, she hunted for somewhere to rest. A hollow under a standing rock served. It was hard and cramped, but the slight chill was welcome as the sun rose. She had known worse.
She slept fitfully, pain rousing her, her dreams racked by thoughts of her tribe and sons. The last time she woke, she was trembling with cold, sweat on her skin. She stepped out in to the fading sun, but the warmth couldn’t touch her. Some of her wounds felt hot, the skin red and swollen. All that meant was less time than she thought, and needed to travel faster.
The chills got worse as she walked, her feet wandering. The Walker stood at the side of the road, in the shadows of the short, scrubby trees. She laughed, a drunken sound, as they followed her. They watched, measuring her. She sang as she walked, trying to keep her steps even, marching chants that had been breathed through generations for strength. The ghosts joined her with voices that whispered through the grass or howled around stones. She felt she drifted on the sound, feet barely touching the earth. They sang of broc and xander on the road, and she tried to mend her wounds. They wept still, but she would hold.
Ravens were calling as the second dawn came. Adal thought they must be following her, as she Walked to her death, but they were well ahead. She floated down the trail, her pain an afterthought to delirium, and sang the walking-song of ravens and crows, voice cracked and broken.
The flock broke into the air as she stumbled into them, landing at the roadside. “Walker!” she shouted, voice as harsh as the birds’. “Rise! Walk with me to vengeance, to the Legion…”
The bodies had been piled in a ditch. She went to them, the smell of death filling her nose. They were bloated from the sun already, but she could see faces not yet stripped, bits of gear as distinctive as voices. Adal fell to her knees, picking something shining from the dust. A knife, the handle made of a hooked antler. She held it to her chest. She crawled towards the pile, trying to roll the bodies as gently as possible. Old Nels. Lani, who was simple. Broda, with the clubbed foot. Each had been shot in the head, burns around the wounds, or their throats cut. The old, the infirm, the Legion had murdered them rather than march them further.
Flies swarmed the bodies, and Adal held her breath as she dragged them aside. Her boys. If her boys were there… She lay Peda down, broken jaw swollen and foul, and turned back to the ditch. Beneath her body was a hand. A child’s, small and pale, body hidden under the corpses.
On her knees, Adal reached out. She felt herself start to shake. Too big for Alam. Ches. Brave Ches, her shadow, who would have fought, argued like his mother, fool, fool.
She was on her feet, screaming, tearing her hair and stamping at the earth. She had killed him, as sure as if she had bled him dry.
Adal turned her face up to the ravens, airborne and panicking at her grief. “Ravens! You Walk the dead to the next world, steal away their flesh,” she said, reeling drunkenly as she stood, laughing. “Come! Follow me! I will make you a feast!”
Crossroads (8c/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:29 pm (UTC)She Walked by reckoning and instinct, body shaking with chills and rolling with sweat. Time meant nothing, blackness taking her when it wished, regardless of day or night. Her wounds throbbed and smelled fetid, red streaks cutting across her skin, breaking open as she walked to bleed and weep. Her feet found a broad road, wide enough that even her wandering, erratic footsteps stayed upon it. It would lead to the Legion. She would start at the edge of their camp, picking off their sentinels, letting her slip in quietly.
She paused, confused, an unknown time on. The bodies were gone. She blinked, tried to focus, but there was no sign of the forced march in the dust. Her balance failed, and she staggered on. Let that be direction enough.
The ghosts of the Walker were with her, sang with her, tried to keep her footfalls even. She tried to raise her voice with them, managing only a labored moan. They encouraged her as she moved, threatened her when she faltered. Stillness, rest, collapsing dead was no option.
She could see the camp of Red men, in her mind’s eye. They would have captured many, broken them, bound them with collars like the woman Peda had killed. She would cut them free, give them hope. Steal the weapons from the Legion’s own hands, and rise up.
The sky was full of strange lights, and she felt pebbles digging into her knees.
They would fight, their pain and fear become wrath. They would fight, take back what was theirs from the Red men, wipe them out in revenge. Find the men who had used her, cut them down herself…
The world tilted and spun. She tasted dust as she breathed.
Find Ches and Alam, hold them tight and weep with joy. But no, not Ches. She tried to push herself up, hands scraping in the dirt, arms failing. Ches was dead on the road. Alam. If he still lived…
Adal could feel the earth under her, and could feel herself walking, moving on still. Panic took her, and she thrashed. Was her soul leaving her behind? She clawed at the ground, panting, trying to follow. Her son. Her kin. Her soul might Walk on, but the Legion still had to pay.
She was blind, the pain putting lights before her eyes, the cold of her body and heat of the sun making her shudder and shake.
Find him.
Find…
Movement.
A smell of people and brahmin, the feeling of hands lifting her. She couldn’t fight, her body too feeble.
Dark.
Crossroads (9a/9)
Date: 2015-01-07 06:30 pm (UTC)She clawed at the blankets on her, falling from the bed to the floor. She pried at the bandages stuck to her skin, ignoring the pain as they tore away. She grabbed at the stranger’s clothes she wore, a long, loose shirt, her sturdy hides gone. There were other beds, all empty, and she forced herself to her feet, slamming into the door at the end of the long room. It refused to move, and she spun, panicking, spotting a window behind her. She couldn’t run, legs stiff and sore, but threw it open and tumbled out.
Buildings outside, and daylight—a town. People were walking in the street, and one started, pointing at her. There was a voice from the room with the beds, rising from curiosity to alarm. Fear gave her strength, lurching away from them. Run. She had to run, get away to safety they had wanted to keep her once they used her, fuck her as she screamed and fought but was weak, too weak, the Red men, the Red blood on the road, bodies hacked apart—
A man stepped into her path as she ran, hands held up, saying something calm, low. She wheeled and charged for a gap between the buildings, more people in her way. They scattered, and she came up short. A wall. There was a wall around the town, and she followed along it, legs starting to tremble. They gave out under her, and she crawled instead. Up or they would drag her there, choking on the neck of her own hood.
She fell in the grass and weeds along the wall. Maybe she would die, after all. It was cool where she lay, in the shadow of the wall, among the green things. She would die there, and her shame with it.
And Alam…?
She curled up on herself, waiting. This time, darkness didn’t come. Instead, footsteps crunched up on the path, turning soft on the grass. She wiped at her face with the ridiculous shirt, looking at the man crouched out of reach. “Hello,” he said slowly, clearly. She stared at him, dead. “We thought you wouldn’t wake up for a while. You should go back to bed.”
Adal forced herself to speak, tongue thick and slow. “Don’t speak townie.”
He chuckled. “But I understand you, so you can probably hear me just fine.” He tipped his head, trying to catch her eye. “What’s your name?”
“Just kill me, Legion man.”
“Legion…” Something dark passed over his face. “Miss, you’re in New Canaan. I swear on God’s name you’re safe here, even from them.” He held out a hand. “My name is Isaac. Please, let me help you up.”
“Kill me.”
“No! Miss—” There was distress in his voice. “You’re sick, please…”
“Then let me die!” she screamed, voice breaking.
“I…” He sat back, rubbing his face. “What… what happened to you, miss?”
They were marching away, across the blood and bodies. “They took my boys.”
“Where? Who?” The voice was from somewhere far off, unfamiliar, maybe one of the Red men…
“Took them.” She ground her teeth until they creaked, grinding her fingers into her eyes. “Took them, took—”
She flinched away from the hand on her arm, patting awkwardly at her as she cried. He was reciting something, measured tones that made her think of a walking jody, but too varied, too low. When her throat grew too raw, and she was empty, she managed to listen. “…in his mercy may he give us a safe lodging, and holy rest and peace at the last.” Rest. Peace. Let her die…
“Are you… done?” he asked, back to awkward, losing that strange formal tone.
She didn’t respond, cried hollow. Her body was heavy and light at the same time, a doll with no hands to move it. She couldn’t fight as he helped her stand, slowly, taking her weight on an arm as he walked her back to the bed.
Crossroads (9b/9) Complete
Date: 2015-01-07 06:31 pm (UTC)The children ran scared of her, and she suspected their elders had told them to stay away. Once, on her walk, she spotted them playing, boys and girls alike. She had to stop, to rest against a building, overcome. She could only see her boys, her sons, dead, gone…
Isaac found her there. He tried to take her hand, hold her as she cried. She attacked him, bloodying his face, laughing as she felt the bones of his arm break, the Red men would lose this time…
They kept her locked in a room until they drew a grudging apology, a promise to behave. They grew tense when she demanded a gun, to be let outside, to hunt. She grew angry when they said no. They said her spirit would be saved if she submitted to their god, bowed to their ways. She tore their holy books from their hands and threw them away when they told her the Walkers’ souls would not find peace unless she took their rites. They grew harsher, confining her, but she would not be held. Adal snuck out through the window, taught herself to pick the lock on her door. She wandered the silent town at night, tried to find ways over the walls. Found the traders from the west, New California, who let her into their borrowed lodgings, unaware of her pariah status. They were foreign, strange, and she lost herself in it, in the liquor they snuck past the townies.
The Canaanites’ patience finally broke when they found her with them one night, drunk and naked and wrapped around one of their men. She spat on them, spat on the doors to their town from the back of the trader’s brahmin cart.
She was Walker. No walls would hold her. No townies would give her orders.
She looked down at her civilized clothes, her booted feet, felt the sun on her unhooded head. Riding a cart instead of using her legs. Walker. She was…
Adal paid her keep to the caravan’s elder by hunting, using spears and knives, no longer worthy of a gun. To the one who traded her chems behind their backs, she paid in favors. She was dead to it as he used her, made herself be, was strong enough not to let it affect her. She walked with them until they reached the civilized lands to the west, sprawling towns and land used for nothing but plants.The caravaners were too slow and slovenly to keep dragging her feet alongside them, and she was tired of the ugly looks they gave her and the man who claimed her.
Their elder gave her caps to take packages instead, walking alone through this new world. Courier, people starting calling her. She left the caravan behind entire, learning the roads through New California, and making her own when they didn’t serve. She took to it, took strange jobs and packages and met strange people, never staying, never settling. There was peace in the solitude, alone with her thoughts and whatever chems she could buy to numb them. Alone on the roads, she was safe.
Alone on the roads, no one heard Adal weep, imagining the Walker keeping time.
Re: Crossroads (9b/9) Complete
Date: 2015-01-11 10:47 pm (UTC)Indulge yourself in these allllllll you want, A!A. I will always read the hell out of an Adal story. All the background work you've done on this is just astonishing and I love hearing more of her life, even the terrible moments like these.
Re: Crossroads (9b/9) Complete
Date: 2015-01-18 09:54 am (UTC)Re: Crossroads (9b/9) Complete
Date: 2015-01-28 09:17 am (UTC)Re: Crossroads (9b/9) Complete
Date: 2015-01-29 06:32 am (UTC)