Faithful Pebble
Part Fifty-Five
"That's how I survived," the girl answered. "I used to hunt down there in those tunnels. Moles, rats, insects, rabbits, I ate whatever I found. Then, one day in that tunnel you emerged from, in that pit I dug—"
"I remember that," the wanderer interrupted, the memory instantly prodding him to speak. "It was impressive."
Pebble tilted her head.
"Did you make it—Oh! Of course, you did," he laughed. "Where did you get the arrows and who taught you its craft? That was a hunter's trap, a technique generally passed down from a master to an apprentice. Your average hunter doesn't have the time or the patience to build something that extravagant."
"It was—I mean, yes it was passed down," Pebble replied. She looked away. Instead of answering his questions, she continued her story. "You remind me of a rabbit I once found. It had fallen into the pit and by the time I retrieved it, it had yet to die. The arrows had missed the vital organs. It was dying slowly, bleeding to death one drop at a time. It was waiting for it, for death to come, for my arrival. By the feel of its fur, it seemed like it was just staring up at me. It was watching me in the dark, quaking in a fear it couldn't voice. His heart beat so fast you'd think it might fly away. I could hear it. That sound was so deafening down there, in the dark, in that tunnel. That is until I snapped its neck." Her hood tilted towards him.
The wanderer's wonder slowly faded with her story, gradually replacing the twinkle in his eye with something she'd might have seen in her prey… if she had the means to see it. This time, it was the wanderer's turn to look away.
The seconds dragged on…
And so did his silence…
Pebble was about to let the matter drop when suddenly he answered. "The watch is fixable," he said. "I have a friend in the next town over who could help with its repair. It shouldn't be a problem. As I said, we might have time. Have you decided on what you want to do? Where you want to go? Will you come with me?"
- Calla