Faithful Pebble
Part Twenty-Seven
"Why are you here?" she asked softly.
He jumped, the wanderer, turning to the place where her voice had come, from the left, out of plain sight. Curious, he crept closer his eyesight still clear, still visible in the constant dripping darkness. He spotted her immediately, a cloak covered hobble of flesh nestled into the crock of a far off corner. Her hood draped so low that he couldn't see anything, nothing but fabric and dirt, no eyes, no hair, no Pebble.
But…
He took a breath, the movement rugged in his excitement…
But… she was there.
She was there.
He edged closer carefully kneeling to meet her height.
"Are you going to answer my question?" she asked. The head under the hood turned enough to cause the fabric to ripple subtly, to lift and float suspended in the stale moist air.
The wanderer licked his lips and settled lower attempting to look under her hood. Immediately, she backed away crouching further into herself. Her breath wavered. "How… how did you find me?"
The man gave up, sat back and smiled. His glowing cyan painted eyes glinted gently with the movement. "You are not the only one who can see in the dark." The man answered softly. Hesitantly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the watch. Its brilliance erupted her home in light, instantly stole the breath from the petals of the girl's swollen hidden lips. The hood dipped and bowed then inflated.
"What is that?" She crouched even further into herself, away and yet near.
The man leaned closer offering the timepiece to her, placing it on the cloak where her hands laid buried, covered by the cloak's massive bell-like sleeves. "It's light," he explained.
The girl was shaking. "Light?" Slowly, a hand emerged, a vastly dark, dirty creation with fingers that were bony and long, her nails grown and sharpened crudely into claws that were both jagged and grotesque.
The man licked his lips. "Please, go ahead."
The hand hesitated before reaching out to take hold of the watch, the other uncoiling and unwinding to wrap equally black hands around brilliant silver. "It's warm." Her tone gave her away. The man blinked purposely not acknowledging the hitch in her voice, the erratic breathing indicating the emergence of tears. "It's warm."
Instead, he watched silently as the girl tucked the watch closer to the opening of her hood before reaching to offer it back, but he stopped her with equally warm hands. Brown, and green, and strong deft fingers wrapped around dirt, flesh, and claws. "You can hold on to it," he said.
"Why?" It was a simple question.
The wanderer paused giving an easy answer. "Because it will help as I carry you out."
- Calla