WARILY WE ROLL ALONG [C]

[Yahweh Slickson]

Nimble fingers trembled in anticipation as they delicately laid out an assortment of nuts and berries in a small basket, painstakingly hand-woven from harvested palm fronds—which had been no easy task to find, mind you. Yahweh glanced down at his fine handiwork, willing his hands to be still. He didn’t know why he got so shaky whenever he did this, maybe it was from the anticipation. Maybe it was the fear of getting caught? Whatever it was, it was worth it. He reached into his coat pockets and rummaged for a moment before producing a handful of small crab apples and added them to his display, excited to be giving a gift again. He gave it a critical glance and after another few moments of thought he decided it needed something more. He had some grapes stashed somewhere—where did he stick them again? Oh, right. Inside coat pocket, wrapped in a hanky to keep the juices from getting his pocket sticky. He gently unwrapped the plump round grapes and licked his lips, tempted to plop one into his mouth. But no, they weren’t his to eat! And he wouldn’t dare, not after he’d spent the past few days hunting for all his ingredients—managing to scrounge up an assortment of nuts and a few different types of berries that he didn’t know the name of (but had eaten them enough times to know they weren’t going to poison her). He grinned at the thought of her finding his gift, wondering how she would react. He pictured her smiling a sweet smile, laugh like the tinkle of a soft bell. He had only seen her once or twice in the years that he’d been coming across her trail, but her scent was so undeniably familiar to him now that he couldn’t get her out of his head. He had never been one to socialize with other people, especially not since moving into the dome. The past few years had been pure isolation, long nights spent under the canopies or in the caves simply thinking where to go next, continuously running through his supplies and what needed restocking; constantly moving, chased from place to place either by necessity or unfriendly force. He didn’t have time to think of people. But for some reason this woman was different. They had never met, never spoken, never even made eye contact. But he had scented her time and time again in the forests, in the mountains, on the very edges of what the Ringers called their civilization and she had gotten him curious. To be truthful he was wary of approaching her directly; he didn’t know anything about her or if she was dangerous. She could be like him, an honest survivor who didn’t attack unless attacked. But she could be like the others and attack on sight if she thought him a threat. So he decided leaving these gifts for her to hopefully find would be the best way to go about it; at least he could present himself in a positive light, and hopefully frame himself in her mind as nonthreatening. He thought he might even take off his cloak when he spoke to her, since it usually freaked people out. It wasn’t necessarily normal behavior on his part but he had to admit that after six or seven years (he’d lost count after five and tended to round up) in the dome things were getting a bit lonesome. He thought maybe this girl would be good company, at least for the occasional chat or maybe trade if he could get her to stay in one place for a couple hours. She moved around almost as much as he did, and he often had to keep himself from imagining being traveling buddies with her. He’d been told all his life he was prone to living in a fantasy world, said it in a way that made him think it wasn’t a good thing. But his Mama had always appreciated it, saying he had a beautiful mind and not to let no one change it. So he wasn’t gonna let no one change it, not if he could help it. Maybe she would like the presents enough and he could talk to her! With that in mind he smiled down at his basket and for a finishing touch grasped at a beautiful red fox pelt that had been draped over his shoulder, awaiting its destiny. . He’d skinned and tanned it himself and knew it might make a nice scarf or drape for the winter; Yahweh ran his fingers over it one last time, enjoying the plush fur. It was a beautiful piece that he’d wanted to keep for his own collection, but alas. He knew it would serve her better use. Yahweh laid the fox pelt delicately on the ground and placed the basket on the center of it and sighed happily down at his handiwork, nodding to himself. His best yet! He stood and dusted off his hands before crossing them over his chest, contemplating when she would come across it. He'd scented her near this river, what the Neighbors called the Skipping River, a few times. And he'd scented her in Neighbor land just a few days ago. So he'd chosen to place his gift in one of the sunken sections of the river, in small clearing amongst the trees and flowers as the sun shone in filtered rays through the natural skylight above. Damn, he was almost blown away by his own artwork! He was sure now that she would love it!

[NIKK]

It didn’t matter that it was warm out, the water from the river was mountain fed – and it was freezing. Nikk’s teeth chattered as she scrubbed rapidly at her dirty tan skin. Perched on a rock, she had placed her items to one side, stripped, washed and hung up her clothes, and began to bathe as quickly as she could. This was one of the few times she couldn’t help but miss the outside world. Showers, soaps, conditioners … things you had every day without thought – and she hadn’t had in years. As she was a fastidious person, keeping clean was very important to her. The bar of lye soap she had was crudely and painstakingly made, and the large square cloth she used for scrubbing was cut from an old shirt she’d happened upon. The comb that detangled her hair was missing teeth, and the rough soap always stung a bit but cleanliness was her priority. A scrub brush she used on her hands and feet was broken, and she had no towel to speak of. After several minutes she set her jaw in anticipation, and dunked herself thoroughly to rinse. Breaking the surface with a gasp, she launched out of the water and scrambled back onto the rock – hastily wringing out her long hair and using her hands to shed what water she could. Nikk had only a few things that weren’t currently drying on the branches above a fire. The top half of the shirt she had cut for a wash cloth, and some very holey shorts were it. Both swallowed her as she turned and began climbing up the side of a boulder to get to the sun. Once at the top she sprawled out on the rock and sighed happily – feeling better than she had in days. Crap, she had fallen asleep. The sun was still high but she had lingered far too long. Nikk crawled down the rock in a quick half slide that left her fingers and toes smarting and swooped to kill the fire. Never remaining anywhere long, even when nothing and no one was around, she always became antsy about leaving again. Stuffing her dry clothes into her pack she slipped her boots on without bothering with socks and was on the move down river. It was a strong impulse that she was in danger and should leave. Often it was an imaginary threat but it kept her paranoia down. Her nimble steps kept her moving rather quickly from rock to bank as needed, and once or twice she almost slipped into the water but she managed. Around the bend was a bank where she could stop for a minute and change back into her regular clothes. Unconsciously her fingers grabbed her now dry hair; smelling only a hint of the herbs and flowers she had crushed into the simple soap and wishing it were coconut or jasmine. Once on the bank she let her pack fall to the ground and stretched. The nap she’d gotten was the best she’d had in a long time and she felt refreshed and happy. With an elbow over her in mid-stretch she smiled, looking out over the water … and froze. She could see a bit of movement. Without thought she snagged her pack, then ducked low and hurried across to a cluster of trees. Between the thin trunks she wove smoothly and quietly until she could clearly see who or what it was. It was a man with long dreads, simply dressed, and extremely preoccupied. Her neck craned to see what it was that he was so focused on. The breeze shifted enough so that his scent hit her the same moment she saw the display, and her jaw dropped. No – way. It was that person! The person that had left random creations of supplies that she had assumed she’d stolen from someone else at first. After the third one, she’d realized it was no accident. She was torn. On one hand, she felt put upon. She had never asked him to do anything like that! He didn’t even know her! On the other hand, twice he had left things that she had been in need of – usually in the way of food. A year ago the mysterious person had left her a bird’s nest full of nuts and berries, a third of a travel sized tub of petroleum jelly, and two rabbit skins in the middle of winter. Her lips had been so chapped they were bleeding, and her fingers were beginning to get frost bitten. She had sewn the rabbit skins in half to make crude gloves and still had them in the bottom of her pack. Her scowl softened, then hardened again. Quietly she crept out of the trees until she was several yards behind him, and crossed her arms. There Nikk stood with a cut off shirt that fell from one shoulder, a pair of holey cut off sweat pants, and untied boots. Her long blonde hair waved in the breeze lightly as her chin rose and her brown eyes narrowed. A hand snagged the strap of her pack to toss her bag to the ground before she crossed her arms and cleared her throat. Instantly, the shifter whipped around with wide blue eyes. Nikk’s expression was stony as she spoke for the first time in weeks. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked tonelessly.

[Yahweh Slickson]

He was enjoying the warming rays of sunshine, tilting his head up so they shone on his face. A nice breeze had kicked up and kept the harsh rays from making it too hot; over all a thoroughly enjoyable moment. He wanted to stand there and enjoy it as long as he could, considering for a moment stretching out and taking a nice snooze. Yahweh started to take of his fur-and-feather coat and mused it was almost like a snake shedding its skin. He drew in a deep breath and as he was about to exhale he heard a sound behind him and started to turn just as a voice rang out. He nearly leaped out of his skin and literally out of his coat as it fell to the ground. It laid there unnoticed as he fixed the speaker with wide blue eyes, unsure of what to do. It took only a few seconds for recognition to spark in his eyes and his thin lips cracked into a nervous grin--it was her! Her her! His heart pounded in his chest as his eyes ran over her in nervous glances, almost too shy to look at her head on. She was dressed in a lot less clothes than he was which seemed odd for the fall season, but he supposed she was getting the last rays of warmth before winter set in and you had to be bundled for months on end. The wind shifted and her scent was carried to him and he closed his eyes for the briefest moment as he registered everything. She smelled like the river, fresh and clean with a tinge of earthiness. And fire. He tilted his head to the side as his eyes flashed open and he fixed her with his gaze, smile wavering for a moment. She'd asked him a question, hadn't she? How long ago was that? Everything scrambled in his brain and he swallowed harshly a couple of times, Adam's apple wavering in his throat. He flexed his hands, stretching his fingers in and out of a fist. "I...uh..." he started, his voice cracking in a hoarse rasp. He hadn't spoken in a few weeks, hell it had been a whole month since he'd even seen another person. He hadn't expected to meet her like this, not like this! He had planned for it to be a while down the road when he could approach her and present her on his own time. Not with her sneaking up on him. It wasn't a nice trick, not at all. He looked down at his basket, licked his lips and shuffled so he was standing a couple of feet behind it, conveniently putting a bit more distance between them; his coat still lay in a forgotten heap, the single deer antler poking up from the snarling wolf skull. He nodded to his basket, eyes shifting from her to his gift and he swallowed the knot of excitement and fear in his throat. "For you."

[NIKK]

Incredulity overtook her visage, her brown eyes narrowed distrustfully. Her faith was no further inspired when he acted as though she had caught him doing something wrong. Did he just leave presents around the Menagerie for people? Her crossed arms shifted as her jaw set and she looked at the horde of items for a long moment, and back up to the stranger that now stuttered and seemed lost for words. There was a vacancy to his stare as he gazed at her, but Nikk did not move. When he finally uttered two sensical words, it was to indicate the treasures were for her, causing her brow to furrow into a frown as her mind jumped to paranoia. Why? Why the hell would he care? Who is this guy? The display was rather lovely, though she’d never admit it. The random bits of food made her stomach churn silently. Was this guy so well-heeled in this hell hole that he could afford to give away such things? Was she supposed to know him? She didn’t like thinking of her past, it was there for a reason – and she liked to keep it that way. Nevertheless, she was good with faces if not names, and she certainly would have remembered someone of his countenance. What did he want for it? What was he buttering her up for? The instant she realized he might want something from her, her head swiveled this way and that as she looked for others that might be hiding. Oh God, maybe it’s a trap. She took several steps back toward the woods though no panic was shown on her face, only awareness. “Why, what do you want?” she demanded in the same monotone voice. She continued to search between the trees and across the water in vain to see if anyone lay in the shadows – but saw no one. She finally looked at the man again. His hair was dreaded, purposefully or from lack of care she could not tell and the coat that he dropped was rather strange but she had seen stranger, and no one could account for survival in this place.

[Yahweh Slickson]

i1375.photobucket.com/albums/ag468/cortaditos/appav_zpsfdc16c05.png Yahweh watched her as warily as she watched him, though his gaze was not lanced with suspicion. Part of him was afraid of her because he didn't know what she was capable of. He had both highly anticipated and dreaded this moment because he realized that it could go either way. They could walk off laughing and talking into the sunset and become best friends (that would be the best, wouldn't it? No more lonely campfires with no one to talk to except Lou) or she would stab him, rob his corpse and leave him for the vultures. And he supposed she had every right to do so if he made himself a threat. So he tried his best not to do so. But damned if she didn't make him nervous as all get-out. He mirrored her sharp movements as she looked around the clearing, warning pricking the back of his neck. Was there someone out there? Someone watching them? He peered around like she did, sniffed the air and listened. There was a susurrus of leaves as the wind picked up, carrying scents of trees and late blooms. But no danger. He heard a mockingbird calling for its mate, the mate's reply. They could be Squawkers but he doubted it, not this far into Neighborland. Yahweh flicked his gaze back to meet hers, trying to read her face for signs of danger (other than her, at least). But he didn't see any signs that she'd sensed any threats so his nerves calmed a bit. Just the two of them, then. A lot earlier than scheduled but, when life gives you lemons and all. Still he didn't know what to say or how to explain himself when she asked. She didn't sound angry, her voice flat and revealing nothing. But her body language spoke of her irritation, of her suspicion. He'd hoped it was just that she'd heard a twig snap and thought some big Neighbor was sneaking up on them. But he realized it was probably focused on him. He sucked in air through his teeth, realizing that she probably thought it was some sort of trap. His lips thinned into a line as he thought of what to say. Truth was always the best. He hitched up his shoulders in a shrug. "Seen you around the forests." He paused, scratching at his matted tangle of hair. "Thought this could be a good...um...what you call it..." he motioned with his hands, like he was using an ice-pick as he searched for the word. "Ice-breaker." He pointed to the gift. "S'posed to be two more after this, for wintertime. You sneaked up on me though." He shrugged again, trying a smile and pointed absently to himself. "Yahweh."

[NIKK]

When his icey hues lifted to meet hers, Nikk’s own steady gaze did not look away. When he took a nervous breath and pressed his lips together her chin lowered a notch intently, catching his every movement. Why was he so jumpy? Seen you around in the forests, he began and that caused an alarm to go off in her body, stealing her breath. He’d been watching her? Why? Why? As he shifted to scratch his head then gesture to help him think, Nikk’s breathing returned in shallow pulls as she fought to understand. He’d seen her around, wanted to break the ice, intended to leave her more gifts, but she’d caught him first. Right, because that made complete sense. Even in the outside world it would have been considered odd behavior for anyone save a kindergartener with a crush. She blinked. Yahweh, he said in what appeared to be an introduction. Familiarity touched her mind, and without permission her memory flashed back to a time she’d not thought of in ages. In sixth grade, she’d had a friend, Francis. Francis Achshorn was new, a member of one of the only Jewish families in town, and immediately considered an outsider at school. Her sad brown calf length dresses, thick rimmed glasses, blouses, and braids did nothing to help the unsociable girl. Nikk had never been popular, and the girl’s gentle disposition and quiet intelligence had been very agreeable to her. The girls quickly became friends, and Anna’s family invited Nikk over for family dinners a few nights a week, and slowly she had learned a bit about their culture and heritage. Her mother had put a stop to it when she’d asked if she could observe Shabbat with the Achshorns. Consequently, twelve years later when the gift bandit claimed his name was Yahweh, Nikk was instantly caught between skepticism and disbelief. “Your name is God?” She dead-panned … thinking there was no way she’d heard him right. When he did not respond immediately she blinked. “Yahweh means God, in Hebrew,” she pressed. He couldn’t be serious.

[Yahweh Slickson]

He saw the subtlest change in her expression, the slight dimming of her focus. She was caught in a memory, he knew. He waited quietly for her to come back, and it only took a second or two for that sharp and steady look of hers to return. And then another question. She asked a lot of questions, though he supposed it was only natural. He really should've been more prepared for this, but she'd changed everything. But it was going okay, he supposed. She hadn't tried to stab him with her knives yet, so that was a positive sign. But her question sort of threw him off, confused him. People had given him strange looks before but no one ever called him God. Stefan, his old companion that had stabbed him, robbed him and left him for dead had told him all about the meaning behind Yahweh, the name he'd chosen for himself. Had told him it meant God. Yahweh hadn't known that when he'd chosen it, only read it in a book once. He couldn't remember what book exactly, but it had been a nice one. Thick, with a nice leather cover and gold leaf on the edges, so that when you flipped the pages all together it made it look like a little rainshower of gold. It was a book the hotel had given them, or someone had left it in the drawer. He couldn't remember the title though. It was a nice memory, one of happier times. He and his mother had been living in a hotel for months, but it was a nice hotel and had air conditioning. It was always cool, not hot like the cabin they'd lived in before. He realized with a grin that he'd been caught in his own memory. "Name's not God. It's Yahweh," he said, correcting her as if it made a difference. To him there was no connection between the two, no realization that a name could have more meaning than that it was a word linked with his identity. "At least...I don't mean it to be God. He's up there," he said, motioning above his head in the general vicinity of what he assumed was Heaven. "I'm down here. Can't be God, can I?" He furrowed his brow when she spoke again. "I read it in a book once. Liked how it sounded." He said, chin jutting up as he defended himself. He didn't really feel attacked, but he didn't like the way she had said it. Like it was funny or stupid or something.  He scuffed the toe of his shoe in the dirt, clearing his throat. "I told you my name. Even if you don't like it," he paused, stuffing his hands in his pockets like a pouting kid. "You're supposed to tell me your name, now."

[NIKK]

Yahweh was an even purer and more ancient form for the written representation of God than the three letter word itself. Her eyebrow rose, his response might as well be “nu-uh” like a grade-schooler. She sighed and shifted her stance. Her high-alert guard was coming down, but it wasn’t because she trusted him. She was having a harder and harder time thinking of him as an actual threat. His further explanation was of no help, and his ending accusation that she was supposed to share her own name far more bewildering. She spoke without thinking. “Yeah, I never said you were God idiot. I said that it means God. You could call yourself ‘Flower’ and it still wouldn’t make you a flower, let alone God … or a god,” she said quickly in a voice just loud enough for him to hear. Her use of idiot for some reason rolled off her tongue as if she were speaking to a brother, or a friend; the harshness of the insult stolen by a soft familiar tone. Surprised at herself, she cleared her throat. “Besides, I don’t have to do anything. I never asked for your name, or your presents, or anything else.” It was far more words than she had spoken in she didn’t know how long. Since Hazel followed her around for like a week? Maybe. Who knew where the brassy kid was now. Nikk brushed the thought of the ginger haired girl with smiling eyes away from her as she leaned down to snag the strap of her pack, and took a few steps forward. People always seemed to trample through Nikk's life without her say so whenever and however they pleased. It's why she kept to herself. People busted in, took what they wanted and left. As for now, she was headed up river. This would not interfere with her course. She had to keep moving. Her boots uncharacteristically scuffed the rocks as she walked past Yahweh and his arrangement of gifts. She’d liked to have thought that if she knew they came from him she wouldn’t have taken them, but last winter she might have ended up without some fingers and weeks of healing chapped and bloody lips if he hadn’t. Hunger and Desperation did a hell of a thing to Pride. As she came along side him, she slowed to a stop. Keeping her gaze on the distance, her chin rose as her jaw rolled and she sighed. Her foot lifted and dropped almost stubbornly as she finally turned to look at him and straight into blue eyes. They were so clear, and the expression he held was so strange. She looked down and away. Nikk hated to thank him, hadn't meant to. She should have to... "Look, thank you for your gifts or whatever," she said begrudgingly as if her mother had just shamed her into thanking an unwelcomed guest for coming to her party. Shouldering her strap she composed herself, biting the inside of her cheek as her lips pressed together. It looked as if the very next moment she would fake smile at him. But Nikk didn't smile. "Don't worry about me, okay? I do best on my own," she said. Then, somewhere between a warning and admittance ... said more quietly, "You don't wanna hang around me anyway." In realization her eyes jumped from his face to the ground and back a few times in alarm. She had not meant to say that part and in panic she turned and quickly walked, she would not run way from him.

[Yahweh Slickson]

Hands still stuffed in his pockets he stared at the ground, caught up in her words. Flower would make a good name, he thought with a small smile. "Flower is a nice name," he said. It was simple, had a nice ring to it. And despite what she said about being named Flower and not actually being a flower, he thought that it might be nice to be a flower. Stretching your leaves big and green to catch the sun, soft petals bright and full of color and life. All you had to do was sit and wait for the sun, or the rain. You didn't have to run around wondering when your next meal would be. "Bees like flowers, though. Don't like bees." He said with a subtle shake of his head, not realizing he'd continued his train of thought out loud. He glanced up when she spoke again, lips pressed into a thin line of concentration. She was very straightforward, and he found that he liked it. She seemed honest, and even though her words could come off kinda harsh he found that he didn't altogether mind. But what she said confused him. He cocked his head to the side again, pallid dreads falling into his face and tickling at his cheek. He fixed her with his clear blue gaze, trying to figure out what to say and how to get her to fess up her name. It wasn't a big thing to ask, was it? Maybe he was doing this whole conversation thing wrong. He'd never been very good at it and if he was honest with himself (and he always was) he wasn't sure if he was doing it correctly at all. The way it was going, he assumed the answer was no. "That's true, I s'pose, you don't gotta tell me your name. I was just tryin' to do things all formal and conventional-like but I mean," he paused, hand coming out of his pocket to scratch the tip of his sharp nose. "Part ovva fun of presents is you don't gotta ask for 'em. They spose to be a way for people to, um," he paused again, searching for words. "Be friends, or make friends, or, um...I dunno..." He gestured almost helplessly with his hands, struggling with his own awkwardness to explain his intentions to her. "I just wanted to help, is all." Yahweh watched her just as helplessly as she started to leave, picking up her pack and stomping toward him. He was surprised when she pulled up short, just beside him. He just stared at her, trying to smother his anticipation with a calm aura and waited for her to speak; and then she did, and thanked him no less. His face lit up with a wide gap-toothed grin despite her unsmiling face. "Weren't nothin'," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. Just those few words were enough to make his day, and mark this encounter as a success. Right? He gave her a gift, she thanked him, and even though he still didn't know her name...well he could count this as a successful conversation, after all. Despite the hiccups, maybe he was better at this than he thought! Yes! He watched her excitedly but it quickly fell to confusion when she turned and was walking away from him. Oh, he missed something. What had she said? You don't wanna hang around me. And then she'd looked kinda scared, or freaked out or something along those lines. Was she hiding something? Hm. Maybe she was like Stefan and had hurt friends she had traveled with before. He tilted his head to the side again, watching her leave from beneath a furrowed brow. He pursed his lips and she was almost out of his sight when he glanced to the ground, where her gift still sat, untouched. "Hey! You forgot the basket!" he called after her, springing into a jog and stooping to snatch up the basket and the fur as he dashed past and followed her into the copse of trees just beyond. "Miss! Miss, please wait!" He called, catching up to her with a few quick strides. She still had her back turned and he didn't try to pass her, just held out the basket. "Look, I been around all sorta people," he started, though he felt an instant stab of guilt for lying. "Kay well more like two people. One was good, my best bud. But he got sick and died real sudden like. So I found Stefan, and well..." Yahweh rolled his shoulders, let out a soft sigh. "He took all my stuff 'n stabbed me like three year ago. And you the first person since him that I felt like...I dunno...talkin' to." He stepped forward another couple of steps until he stood abreast her, like she had done. He held out the basket to her, keeping his eyes on his boots. "Look, I know it sound dumb but I really would like it if you took the basket. Please."

[NIKK]

Thank God. She had gotten rid of him. The discomfort and slight anxiety that had always accompanied Nikk when in the presence of other people was like nothing else. It was hard to explain; somewhere between being afraid of crushing a butterfly in her hands, and dread of walking across a beam – knowing that a single false step and she would plummet. Nikk had to be careful to watch herself always, always, around others - for more than just the obvious reasons. Her stride fell into a familiar rhythm, one that another might have had to jog to keep up with, but her legs were long and she was accustomed to the gait. It got her places. Hm, where should she head next exactly? There was that one spot that … she had been walking for several minutes when she heard a call behind her, and apprehension and disappointment deflated her like a leaking balloon. Aw man, what now? Stubbornly she refused to turn around. Instead she pulled to a halt as one had rose to grip the strap of her pack while the other hung limply by her side. While he spoke, she kept her back to him. She was not overly tall, but every inch of her lithe 5’7 stature was rather blocky and boyish. Her shoulders were broad like a swimmer’s, and her skin was tanned from the long summer. Her rangy blonde hair, bleached from the sun, fell past her shoulder blades. With her back to him, she could not see his face. Her chin lowered as she took in a deep breath to steady herself. He had been stabbed? Nikk knew a thing or seven about stabbing – both on the giving and receiving ends. They were not fun injuries on any part of the body, and fatal to many. Three years. As he came up alongside her head turned to him impulsively. “You haven’t spoken to anyone in three years?” she asked blankly. Distantly, she recalled His eyes and the smile that always reached them - the He that had shown her about throwing knives and how to survive on the road. His head threw back in a laugh, though the memory was silent. She didn’t recall what his laughter sounded like. Unintentionally, a shine of empathy escaped her eyes into Yahweh’s before they shot to the ground again, deadening any hope of indulgence or sympathy. She couldn’t afford it. She was stone. She had to be. Look, I know it sounds dumb but I would really like it if you took the basket. Please. Why? Why was it so important? Why had he picked her? What was it that he thought she could do for him? She sighed again and reached out a hand, taking the nest and contents carefully. Her mouth flattened out, causing her lips to disappear in a tolerant none smile as she deliberately placed the basket in her pack, and closed it back up. Her eyes widened once as her shoulders and hand gestured to the bag as if to demand, ‘Happy?’ and crossed her arms beneath her small breasts. Now what? He looked at his boots again. She would not thank him again. “Thank you,” she said – pronouncing the syllables with gravity. So much for that. “Now, I am going this way …” she pointed through the trees. Without her own notice, her words had taken on a strange patience. Not the condescension of one superior, rather – the way one spoke to a child that wasn’t theirs. She began to turn but stopped, causing him to look up. Uneasiness clouded her expression, her face grave as she almost threatened. “No more gifts, okay?”

[Yahweh Slickson]

“You haven’t spoken to anyone in three years?” Was that a bad thing? Did it make him seem crazy? He usually liked people to think he was crazy, it kept them away. But he liked her, this lady who had captured his interest and curiosity; which was in honesty, not a hard-won thing but it was this curiosity about her that had driven him to seek her out, in some small manner, which was. He had stopped caring about company long ago, after Mason had died and Stefan had gone. But this lady, he liked her, despite how much she confused him. He shrugged and flicked her a nervous half-smile, clearing his throat of the hoarseness. “Give ’r take uh’couple week,” he said. He’d come across a couple travelers a few weeks back and had given them directions to the nearest river; the whole conversation lasted about five minutes, if that. Yahweh watched with unadulterated glee as she picked up his present and tucked it away, toothy grin wide and he imagined, bright as the sun. “Y’enjoy it, now,” he said, with a hopeful nod. He snaked his neck to follow where she pointed, his dread locks clacking around his face in a swirl of white-grey. He peered through the thick copse of trees, to descry any dangers. When he turned back to her she was looking at him funny. He tilted his head to the side, trying to read her face as she spoke. No more gifts. The edges of his lips twitched down into a slightly frown, eyebrows creased as he dealt with the rejection. He didn’t want to accept it. Why couldn’t she see that he just wanted to help? He licked his lips, which suddenly felt chapped and dry, trying to think of what to say. “No more gifts,” he agreed, with a sharp nod. He cleared his throat again, glancing down at his boots before fixing his eyes on the spot between her eyes. Made it easier to talk. “But, hey, I could…y’know…come with… you. Help you hunt, forage, get stuff for winter,” he said haltingly. “Then it wouldn’t be no gift. Just two folk survivin’, um, together.” He managed to meet her eyes, his bright blue ones a hopeful question.

[NIKK]

Nikk did not allow her eye contact to waver from his until she had secured his agreement that no more presents would pop up in her life. Once he had, she nodded once in satisfaction along with Yahweh’s own jerked motion. It was settled, they had struck a deal. Inexplicably, she felt sadness within her … more than once it was because of his presents that she had been better off. They had been a secret that she’d come to see as a kind of … company. Like when you saw something that reminded you of a friend and you didn’t feel quite so alone. Difference was, Nikk didn’t have any friends. I could come with you. Her lashes flickered inanely, not trusting that she had heard him correctly. He wanted to come with her? Why the hell would he want to do that? What was his deal? She made a snort of disbelief through her nose and cocked a hip, her hand resting there as she assessed him. “Why on earth would you want to do that? I toldgya already, you don’t wanna hang around me, alright?” There was that touch of warning again; more akin to an admission that she was bad news than that she would ever hurt him. Her chin rose as she looked past him to the river, then lifted her dark eyes to the skies. In the light the deep brown lightened into a root beer color. Her hand swept her long blonde hair behind her as she hefted the pack on her shoulder in thought. It was going to start raining soon, and unless she missed her guess – it would be pouring. They needed to move to higher shelter. They? Almost unwillingly, she looked to him again - his clear blue eyes optimistic if not a touch doubtful. Her head began to shake in disbelief, and she let out the largest put upon sigh in the history of the dome. She turned and started to walk, picking her way across some of the uneven ground before she realized he was not following. She stopped then and turned, her typically expressionless face changing to slight sarcasm, her eyes widening as her eyebrows jumped up as if to say, Hello? Are you coming? When he started toward her she held up a finger. “One. Night,” she said roundly. "One,” she impressed and turned back around, her boots crunching in the gravel as she marched up a hill. “And if you can’t keep up, I’m not waitin’ on you!” She called behind her. There was no doubt he could keep up, she could see he was in shape and would have no problem trailing her if for some reason he lost her. After all – it had taken some skill to leave her presents in such a way that she alone would come across them. If she weren’t so irritated she might have been impressed. “It’s going to rain, I suggest higher ground,” she said quietly once he was in earshot. She was careful not to use ‘we’, and so busy was she grumbling in her own mind about how much of a bother the whole thing would be she never realized that she had never actually told him No.

[Yahweh Slickson]

Yahweh did his best to hide the anxiety that was written plain as day on his face, white eyebrows drawn together in a deep furrow over his baby blues. She told him, again, that he didn't want anything to do with her. "Ma always said it was a fool thing for a turtle to keep his head tucked up in his shell alla time. Then he ain't gonna see somethin' good even if it was right square in fronna his nose," Yahweh said with a beaming smile, as if the strange, albeit slightly long-winded analogy was the winningest argument the world had ever heard. He watched her expectantly, freckled face twisted in an awkward mix of hopeful, timid smile and grimace of all-consuming doubt. In all likelihood she would tell him to get lost, or she'd use one of her knives and stick is square between his eyes and he'd look like a sad wannabe hat rack. Or a post-apocalyptic unicorn. He was caught up in imagining himself rampaging through a forest as a horse with a sword for a horn, a mermaid with a machine gun waving as he went by. She looked an awful lot like his new friend, wanted to stop and ask her name. Speaking of, when he looked up again she had turned and walked away. He took a step in her direction, confused and looking like a lost pup. Was he supposed to follow? She hadn't said anything, or maybe she had and he hadn't heard it. His ears were always doing that to him, playing tricks. But then she turned around again, and for a moment she looked like she should be in some famous painting, like a lady who holds out her hand to you and you feel like you could take it, and everything would be alright again. His lips cracked open in a gap-toothed smile that took over his whole being and he stepped forward, feeling like he was walking on air--then she held up a finger. Told him one night, one. "Dang," he said, staring up at the sky. "It's already half way through the day. Really cuts in on the time." he said with a soft frown as he scurried to catch up with her. "But a lot can happen in one night," he said, nodding enthusiastically, unaware of how creepy it might've sounded. But his voice was pure bliss and innocence. He would try to fit as much in as he could, then, if he was only allowed one night. He wondered if he could tell her his whole life story, but figured that might be best kept for another night. He would much rather find out more about her, most importantly, her name. That'd be a start, wouldn't it? Boy, this was exciting. He trailed after her, nodding absently when she mentioned finding higher ground. He was thinking up things they could talk about. But he heard the sudden grumble of thunder in the steadily building clouds. "You right. There's a cave not too far from here, be good to hole up in, keep us high 'n dry," he said, motioning to the north, away from the river and towards the sheer wall of the bowl-like sunken valley. He shambled off in front of her a bit, seeing if she would let him take the lead, and headed towards the cave. He picked up some firewood along the way, what fallen kindling he could find, before they came to a small opening in the rock-face. "Not much, but it'll do the trick," He squeezed himself into the hole, grunting with effort as the deer antler on his hood got wedged between a crack in the rocks. After a momentary struggle he yanked himself free, the firewood clattering to the moss covered ground. It was obvious he'd made use of the cave before, as he pointed to a particularly big pile of moss. "You 'kin sleep there, if y'want. I'll get the fire started?" The cave wasn't big, more a glorified divot if you would. But it'd kept him safe many a night, and he was happy to share it with her. IronChild

[NIKK]

After his strange comment on time and solution about a place to hole up, Nikk shook her head and set a fast pace – her long, lean-muscled legs eating up the ground with ease. Yahweh was restless, moving up beside her one minute like a happy dog and then vanishing the next. He would follow along behind her for a time, and then vanish again before inexplicably appearing ahead of her. She tolerated this behavior with watchful indifference. Her dark eyes sliding back now and then thoughtfully as she regarded her new companion, her new temporary companion. They never lasted. She still couldn't get over it. Three years? Although Nick was not necessarily the friendliest person in The Menagerie and she liked to travel alone, it was not uncommon for her to pass ways with anothers. Hazel for instance, or the other dog shifter she'd shared her fire with for a night when the rain showed no signs of letting up. But to go so long … had it been a choice? Was it something that he sought this absolute solitude? She did, for many reasons, but namely one. Nikk was dangerous. She hadn't thought of that first night in a long, long time, for it was quite painful. It only could be painful when you were responsible for the death of a person you cared about and she’d done it twice. She'd been working at the Moose Hut for a few years by then. Her waitressing money had gone to both bills and savings to get the hell out of there. With nothing more than a High School education, there were few jobs other than the glorious Moose Hut to work. Winnipeg was out of the question, she didn't particularly like the cities. At the time, she'd been at odds with her mother constantly, and dreamed of places a little warmer but still with plenty of winter. Like Montana. It was her mother stinginess and out right declaration that Nikk was no longer her parents’ responsibility that had driven the seventeen year old to start working at the Moose Hut. There she was paid sad wage, and even sadder tips, but she made do. Her mother had been a hard, inflexible woman, extremely religious, and not particularly warm. It was her otets who had taught her kindness, patience, and forgiveness. He had given her a love of stories, notwithstanding his vodkas saturated breath. His eyes were gentle and often farseeing, as if watching things that transpired in another world entirely. He hadn't worked since she was a little girl in Pevek. Otets back and legs had been badly damaged Longshoring, and since then he'd been bound to a wheelchair. The meager amount of insurance money they acquired was fastidiously doled out for groceries, rent, and other amenities by her mother. Still, they had always been quite poor. Nikk never quite understood the relationship between her parents, but upon reflection in her older years she felt that, once otets was wheelchair-bound, it broke any dreams her mother might've had for achieving the life she always wanted. What life that was, Nikk did not know. That night was clear as crystal. Well, up to a point. She’d been working with Debbie, and some kind of drifter had come into the bar. Jorge, the bartender and occasional bouncer was gone for the night and it had been just the two girls. He'd been quiet enough, that drifter, keeping to himself at the end of the Hut and taking small glasses of whiskey … but there was an edge to him that neither girl liked, and after he left they had exchanged relieved glances. Not long after, Debbie went to take out the trash. It was too long before Nikk's red-headed friend returned. Out to the back and into the cold Nikk went to find her. She saw the footsteps Debbie had taken through the knee-deep snow to the dumpster; saw the second set that had wandered from around the far side of the building, saw the blood … A rain droplet hit her eyelash and Nikk was instantly snapped to the present, and glad for the distraction. Yahweh was nowhere to be seen. Despite herself, she looked around for long minutes. Had he decided to leave after all? How long had they been walking? She realized suddenly that she had been following him for a long time. The sun had moved and the sky had darkened. She certainly had never taken this route, and despite the familiarity of the landscape … she had no idea where the hell they were. Her head swiveled this way and that looking for him. Not much, but it'll do the trick. Every ounce of her attention snapped to where the slinky-headed stranger squeezed through a hole in the side of the terra. She blinked. A war of relief and discomfort swarmed her. He was there, he’d not ditched her … however, if she’d known this section of landscape she’d been unconcerned with his whereabouts, she reasoned. The undeniable fact that she’d almost blindly followed him for so long was what disturbed her the most. Pushing it aside, she followed him warily. Instantly she was stopped by his strange antics as he battled with his garb and, consequently, dropped his load all over the small space. Nikk’s eyes closed with purpose and opened again with new understanding … that’s what he’d been doing. He had been gathering firewood. She shifted over to the space he indicated and set down her pack. Without her notice the temperature had dropped considerably. Gooseflesh broke out on her arms and legs, and while she furtively watched him set up the fire, she magicked more clothes on, including her socks and most of what she owned. By the time he had the fire going, she had settled on the small bed of holey beach towel and pack that she usually slept on with her legs crossed, watching the heated flames. She was quite still for a long time, aware of Yahweh’s curious glances and her own withdrawn behavior, and as if for appreciative reward she spoke. “Nikk. You can call me Nikk,” she said – carefully not looking at him. Halfheartedly, she threw a stray twig into the fire. It was not long after that they both curled up in their respective corners and, with the storm howling for a lullaby, when to sleep. WORDS: 1,025+ | TAGS: Yahweh Slickson

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