Chapter 6 - part 2
[Author's Notes] Okay, you're asking where's part one? Well, it's Extraneous Scene #1. Actually, that scene is going in between the Queen's words and the following scene. Don't worry, if you're confused, read Chapter 6 in it's entirety.
They say revenge is a desert, with the only oasis under your protection. This saying has plagued me for years. I've pondered its meaning, envisioned the imagery and yet, there is something not quite satisfying about it. I much prefer to think of revenge as a winding path up a mountain with occasional drops along the way. As soon as victory over the mountain is achieved, a rockfall prevents the descent, leaving either starvation or a plunge into the abyss. Now, that can be considered revenge.
*******
[Author's Notes] Okay now insert Extraneous Scene #1 here. There ya go. Now proceed.
*******
Bending a leg to place her ankle on her other knee, Tristan relaxed under the shade of the tree. Ever since Tiny woke up ten days ago, life has been bliss. If someone had told her that this had been in store for her, she would've fought harder during the competition. Thinking for a moment about the fate of the other survivors, she wondered whether Arite was among them. She shuddered off the thought. Now wasn't a time for unpleasantries; now was a time to thank the gods that they both survived.
At first, Tristan didn't talk much. She had quickly surmised that for each question she asked, it somehow signified that questions were asked of her. However, her natural curiosity got the better of her since she also quickly realized that few of the trio's actions weren't deliberate.
Questions like "Why are you changing Tiny's bandages when the blood's stopped?" resulted in questions like "How did you get to the slave camps?" No one in her young life had ever taken an interest quite like theirs and she found their queries a bit discomforting. But her instinct to learn overtook her reservation and soon she answered theirs eagerly knowing this exchange of information benefitted her.
She had told them all she could remember. She had memories of voices, of smells, fleeting images. One night, before Tiny had awoken, she had told them her first full coherent memory - the one of fire, of screams, of cries, of fear and desperation, of heartbreak. She still would wake from dreams of being scared, running away from fire, of being wrenched away from someone she needed and loved. "Your mother?" they asked. But she couldn't say for sure. They left it alone until a few nights later.
They asked what she remembered after the fire. Tristan just shrugged and said, "I just remember the slave camp after that." That of course led to what her life was like in the camps. Not about the conditions, for they already knew, but rather what she observed, what she thought of all that, her reactions. When they asked why did she choose Tiny to protect, she just said, "He made me laugh."
Tiny plopped down beside her disturbing her reverie. "How soon before we get to the school do you think?" Tristan had to laugh. "You ask me that every time we make a stop. And my answer's the same. How am I supposed to know?" She ruffled Tiny's hair.
"I think it's soon now. We've been on the road a while. Look, I'm almost healed up! And you... well, if you ever sat still, maybe your wounds wouldn't open up again." Tiny pointed to an expanding red spot on her trouser leg.
"Umm excuse me, Sir Smart-mouth. What am I doing right now?" Tristan harumphed.
Tiny pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Practicing what you've learned from Remy in your mind!"
Tristan blushed hard. She was just about to refute Tiny when she realized she had been clenching this muscle and that. "G'wan! Get away from me 'fore I tickle you senseless." She ran after him laughing.
Seeing Cece beckon both of them, they ran over. "Did you two remember to fill up your water sacs?" Both children patted the full sacs they each carried around their belt. "Okay, it should only be a half day's ride from here."
"See!" Tiny whopped Tristan on the arm. "I told you we were close!"
They say revenge is a desert, with the only oasis under your protection. This saying has plagued me for years. I've pondered its meaning, envisioned the imagery and yet, there is something not quite satisfying about it. I much prefer to think of revenge as a winding path up a mountain with occasional drops along the way. As soon as victory over the mountain is achieved, a rockfall prevents the descent, leaving either starvation or a plunge into the abyss. Now, that can be considered revenge.
[Author's Notes] Okay now insert Extraneous Scene #1 here. There ya go. Now proceed.
Bending a leg to place her ankle on her other knee, Tristan relaxed under the shade of the tree. Ever since Tiny woke up ten days ago, life has been bliss. If someone had told her that this had been in store for her, she would've fought harder during the competition. Thinking for a moment about the fate of the other survivors, she wondered whether Arite was among them. She shuddered off the thought. Now wasn't a time for unpleasantries; now was a time to thank the gods that they both survived.
At first, Tristan didn't talk much. She had quickly surmised that for each question she asked, it somehow signified that questions were asked of her. However, her natural curiosity got the better of her since she also quickly realized that few of the trio's actions weren't deliberate.
Questions like "Why are you changing Tiny's bandages when the blood's stopped?" resulted in questions like "How did you get to the slave camps?" No one in her young life had ever taken an interest quite like theirs and she found their queries a bit discomforting. But her instinct to learn overtook her reservation and soon she answered theirs eagerly knowing this exchange of information benefitted her.
She had told them all she could remember. She had memories of voices, of smells, fleeting images. One night, before Tiny had awoken, she had told them her first full coherent memory - the one of fire, of screams, of cries, of fear and desperation, of heartbreak. She still would wake from dreams of being scared, running away from fire, of being wrenched away from someone she needed and loved. "Your mother?" they asked. But she couldn't say for sure. They left it alone until a few nights later.
They asked what she remembered after the fire. Tristan just shrugged and said, "I just remember the slave camp after that." That of course led to what her life was like in the camps. Not about the conditions, for they already knew, but rather what she observed, what she thought of all that, her reactions. When they asked why did she choose Tiny to protect, she just said, "He made me laugh."
Tiny plopped down beside her disturbing her reverie. "How soon before we get to the school do you think?" Tristan had to laugh. "You ask me that every time we make a stop. And my answer's the same. How am I supposed to know?" She ruffled Tiny's hair.
"I think it's soon now. We've been on the road a while. Look, I'm almost healed up! And you... well, if you ever sat still, maybe your wounds wouldn't open up again." Tiny pointed to an expanding red spot on her trouser leg.
"Umm excuse me, Sir Smart-mouth. What am I doing right now?" Tristan harumphed.
Tiny pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Practicing what you've learned from Remy in your mind!"
Tristan blushed hard. She was just about to refute Tiny when she realized she had been clenching this muscle and that. "G'wan! Get away from me 'fore I tickle you senseless." She ran after him laughing.
Seeing Cece beckon both of them, they ran over. "Did you two remember to fill up your water sacs?" Both children patted the full sacs they each carried around their belt. "Okay, it should only be a half day's ride from here."
"See!" Tiny whopped Tristan on the arm. "I told you we were close!"
posted by resigned idealist @ 11/08/2004 08:26:00 PM
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