There was an ugly woman at the Smoke. She had a small nose with a bulbous point. Her mouth was tiny, but her lips had fine shape, and were a shade of strawberry pink. She had fair skin and freckles, pale bluish eyes, and long, inconvenient brown hair that was often held back with a thin, pale strap of rabbit leather. She was very tall and square, but she walked with a certain unplaceable grace that wasn't very ugly of her at all. Something about her, actually, was very... almost pretty. Maybe it was the way her smiles were a rare, precious gift, like gold, or how her long eyelashes would beat against her round cheeks when she looked down with shyness.
No one knew where exacty Eve came from. People often tried to figure out with much prodding and questioning, but she rarely responded. She had come one damp morning, emerging from the woods, dangerously thin and covered in scratches. She had collapsed as soon as someone noticed her. A girl named Nimm had nursed her back to health, and they had become friends.
Eve's relationship with Nimm was pathetic, no matter that it should have been otherwise. Occasionally Eve would share a seat at her fire, but that was as far as her generosity could stretch. It was understood by most of the Smoke that Eve was broken. In her watery eyes dwelled a hollowness that wasn't noticed immediately, but rather threw off the whole of her ugly face. Her voice was tainted with a miserable sigh... except for when she told her stories.
No one could remember when the stories started. No one but Eve. They were as abrupt and as mysterious as she herself, and like Eve, it was like they had always been. It was like they were older than time.
It all started with a question. It wasn't really a question, actually; it was more of a comment. The group of people surrounding the lovable, broken Eve's campfire often had strange discussions. They weren't constricted to the topic of how much wood had been gathered that day. They were about odd things. Things like the Boss's collection of books, or the rusty city that had introduced Tally to David.
That night, Tally had scoffed at the idea of superheros in the sky. "No superheroes could do this. It was us. All us."
"Actually," Eve had said quietly. "It was only one superhero."
The chatter died down around that particular fire. When Eve spoke, you listened. If you didn't, you'd be utterly lost and somewhat embarassed.
"Like you'd know," Nimm said playfully, nudging Eve. Eve looked at her, unamused.
"I would." No one questioned it. It was as near to speaking of her past that Eve would ever go. "His name was God. It was all him."
There was silence again. And then; "Him?" from a quiet boy younger than Eve and older than Tally.
"Well," Eve said slowly. "He could be a girl. Or a boy. Or a woman or man or animal. Even a plant, if he wanted."
"Why did you call God a Him, then?" Tally said. There was an underlying tone in her voice that made Eve shudder.
"There's a book." Eve looked into the faces around the fire. "A book called a Bible. It was found in a place that used to be called Italy. Italy was a place with huge beautiful buildings and churches-"
"What's a church?" Tally interrupted once more.
"Let me explain Bibles first," Eve said, cross. She didn't much like Tally, and she despised being interrupted. "Italy was a wonderful place, once. And there was a Bible found there. A Bible is a book, full of stories and letters and beautiful poems written about God. And about what He did.
"The first story in the Bible is about when God created the Earth. About how He put animals and plants and water and dirt and light and dark on the Earth. Before that, there was blackness. After that, the world was a beautiful garden. God saw that the world was missing something, though. It was missing people.
"So God created people. And in the Bible, it says that people were formed in the image and likeness of God. The first person ever alive was a man; therefore, people assume that God looks like a man- even though he is so much more. No one knows what God looks like."
Eve fell silent.
"Churches?" Nimm prodded.
"Oh. Right. Churches. Churches are buildings where people come to worship God. They could be as tall as mansions or as small as a dorm room. They were always beautiful, though some were prettier than others."
And in that hour, a routine was born. People would hudde at Eve's side to hear these stories, told almost every night, the next one more fantastic than the last. Some days there would be many Smokies. Some days, there would only be Eve, Nimm, and two more. But every night, without fail, they were told.
Few Smokies believed these stories. Like any story, most accepted them as fiction. Tales told out of boredom, the children of Eve's idle mind. But the handful that trusted Eve, and believed these stories? Their lives were changed because of it.
A/N: Okay. I gave this another go, and I think it's much better. So much is unexplained still, but that's the way it's meant to be. There's a quote in Inkspell by Cornelia Funke... it roughly says, 'Every good author knows to keep some of the story for themselves.' I'm too lazy to dig up the actual wording... oh well. I hope you enjoyed it better this time around.