Page 38 of Ruby
I shake my head because I should not think like this. I just wish I could know why she has been so abrasive to me since our first meeting. I haven’t witnessed her with anyone else yet so I cannottell if this is just because she dislikes me or if it is her general demeanor.
I don’t want to believe it is, because there was such a pleasant aura to her when she lay on my arm to sleep the night before and I want to see more of that Red.
I want to know who she can be when she is not building up walls to shut me out. Our journey continues in silence, with chittering from small rodents and the rustling of leaves being the only things heard around us.
Until Red quietly complains, once more, that she is too tired to keep moving.
I try to sound encouraging but I too feel exhausted. “We near. Keep close.”
Thankfully, my feet are not bleeding anymore but they still hurt from all the walking. I know that if I walk for long enough, the pain will be a thing of the past.
I just hope it is soon. Although her legs are clearly made for walking, they still aren’t as long as mine and our movement has been slow.
Red lets out a long whine about how hungry she is and the never ending distance we have had to travel and I turn to look at her. “Dark soon. Need find shelter.”
“We are close?” Her eyes start to widen with either fear or relief; I am not sure which.
I regret disappointing her and she groans again. I find it a little funny, almost endearing.
“We rest soon,” I promise and we continue on.
Soon it is early evening. I find us somewhere to rest and it is well hidden beneath some large, overgrown leaves that make some kind of shade. There are some dry leaves in the corner that I dust off and stack wide enough for Red and me.
It is not as cold and wet as the night before and I am grateful, not for myself but because Red will not be so cold.
Although I would prefer it if she slept close to me again, I know that I cannot ask for too much.
I settle down to sleep first and Red follows soon after.
I cup both sets of arms around her curled form and pull her close to me, for the first time doing what I feel. She lets out a hum of annoyance but I soon have her tucked against my side and embraced by the fluffy down feathers on the inside of my upper arms.
Her hum trails off and she nuzzles her face deeper into the down, commenting on how soft it is with a pleased warble. The action tickles me but the interaction between us is too precious for me to stop her odd movements.
Instead, I lie still until she sleeps, pull her even closer against me, and allow myself to drift off.
16
Ani
There hasn’t been a single moment since I’ve been stranded here that I’ve understood what was going on. Trying to account for time and seasons is impossible. The sun comes up after what feels like only a couple hours at night and I wake up still exhausted.
I must have rolled away from Szhe’ka because I’m laying splayed out on the bed of leaves that he made for us. Sighing, I lazily rub my eyes, scratch what must be a million bug bites on my arms judging by the itching, then yawn and turn the other way to stretch but I bump into something.
My arms haphazardly smack into what feels like a slightly wet to the touch warm bag of feathers. I must still be sleepy because it takes far too long for me to identify my victim as Szhe’ka. He lets out a loud squawk, enough to wake me up properly and realize what I’ve done. I instinctively withdraw, afraid I’ll break something.
His eyes are screwed shut and his two right hands contort backward, reaching for the middle of his back, holding onto what I now realize is a wound he had been keeping hidden among the thick fall of feathers. I wince looking at it, feeling the true weight of my actions. He cradles his wounds, his breathing becoming more haggard and heavy.
“My regrets,” I say, a heavy shadow resting on my heart.
He raises his head, looking at me again with those sincere eyes. It’s like he’s saying it’s okay for me to be closer to him. Taking this as my sign, I shift until I’m seated right by him. Slowly, he takes his hands off and reveals what I’d seen earlier. My hands fly to my mouth, horrified at the sight of the large wound that looks like it was hacked off by a jagged chainsaw.
A moment later I figure out what I am seeing. Wings. Bile rises in my throat as I put together the clues. Awkward walking, green liquid I now realize is blood. Someone cut off his wings.
How did I miss such a thing?
The guilt surges again when I realize it’s because I’ve avoided looking at him and empathizing with him. Avoided thinking of him as anything but the lightning rod for keeping the Bitch solidly in place so I don’t lose my fucking mind.
Self-loathing bubbles up in a familiar wave as I make myself truly look at him for the first time.
