Holy Dread

This is another freewrite that describes Aditi (Alana) after the encounter with the cat. It's not exactly correct in the timeline, since the narrator describes her as if he knew her before AND after the event. That would not be possible. What is important here is the change Aditi undergoes in their eyes, since this would be accurate regardless of narratorial discontinuity. (My English, let me show you it.)

Word count: 711

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She smiles less now. The accident has changed her more than I think she realizes. There is a constant, tired look in her eyes, and even when she is happy emotion is rarely reflected there. It is odd, since she recovered completely several months ago. For a while, we were not sure she would regain the use of her arm. So what if there is scarring? It's just skin. Three thick, pinkish lines running from her neck to her left shoulder blade, a testament to where the big cat swung and missed, accidentally sparing her life. The infection made the skin slightly rough, the scar edges a little jagged, like they had been drawn in with a leaky fountain pen. Actually, I think it is quite attractive. Most of us do, though none of us would ever tell her.

Before the attack she would wear her long hair in a thick braid down her back, and it would swish back and forth tellingly as she walked. She preferred tops with no sleeves, and sometimes no straps. They clung to her body protectively, leaving her thin shoulders exposed to the elements. She had been in such a shirt when she had been ambushed in the woods. We always thought of it as her trademark; her breasts and legs were always well-covered, but the smooth skin of her shoulders were always visible. It was unusual; it was also sexy. I have never known anyone else who could make shoulders sexy.

When she was worried, she used to play with her hair, patting away wisps, redoing the braid, even though plaiting her knee-length hair took several minutes of careful concentration. It always seemed to clear her mind. Now, she leaves her hair alone. No longer does the braid flow free down her back and undulate with her as she moves. Instead, she plaits it to the side, and it falls down over her left shoulder, partially covering the scar. She never plays with it anymore, and the braid is not quite as tidy, the tie not as carefully placed. Strands come loose more often.

She has also taken to covering her shoulders, much to the chagrin of me and my friends. All her shirts have sleeves, so only the very top portion of the recently healed wound can be seen, peeking above her neckline, only visible when her braid shifts. Now too much of her is covered to make her seem approachable. When she worries, her right hand strays to her shoulder, rubbing where the claws ripped into her skin. She never tidies her hair to clear her mind. Instead, she just keeps rubbing, leaving the skin of her shoulder red and vibrant from the attention and the friction. Like her eyes, her shoulder, too, seems to be tired.

It's not just the clothing that makes her seem more forbidding, or the fact that she smiles less often. Her movements are stiffer, and she is quieter overall. I rarely hear her laugh, anymore, though it used to be quite easy to induce. Get her out of the town, into the forest, and everything made her full of joy.

It makes me wonder what else happened, and what that scar really reminds her of. None of us know why she went into the woods alone that night, except maybe Nanda, and he will not tell us. We're not even sure how long she had been lying there, sick and fevered and weak, until he had found her. No one ever goes out there alone, but had she been with anyone, she would not have been left there to die. And so the scar troubles her because it is a physical reminder of the problem that had driven her out there.

At least that is what we believe. None of us are sure, though we speculate a good deal over dinner or beer. I'm not sure any of us have been brave enough to ask her ourselves. Her eyes are too distant to make us feel at ease. When we look at her, now, we see her as she was, mere moments before she was pounced upon and torn open at the shoudler.

She is broken, and it keeps us all away. We're not as brave Nanda.

Together We Will Live Forever

Here is a short story I wrote as a freewrite to figure out how Andir (Nanda) and Alana (Aditi) met each other. Name changes for all of them are in the works, so get used to it. It's not meant to be good. In fact, it's definitely not. I hashed it out purely for information's sake.

Word Count: 762

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Nanda forced his way through the dense undergrowth near the stream bank and stumbled across the figure of a young girl collapsed in the mud. She was lying on her side, tea-colored hair matted across her face and the damp ground surrounding her. A suspiciously thick and dark smear of dirt covered her left shoulder. He ran his finger along it and pulled his hand to his nose. An acrid, metallic smell suffused his senses. Blood.

Frowning, he gingerly pushed her hair away from her shoulders, exposing an enormous tear in her hunting leathers. Three deep gashes ran from her shoulder blade to her armpit. Whatever had attacked her had clearly gone for the jugular and missed. He was unsure how she had survived this long; the wound was several days old and felt hot to the touch. She needed help immediately. Silently, he summoned his companions to him.

Nanda's older brother arrived first. After a quick survey of the scene, he stepped forward and picked the girl up in his arms. She rose effortlessly, with the weight of the half-alive. His brother was the tallest and brawniest of his family, standing almost five feet tall. The girl must have been at least five years younger than he was; his bulk made her seem even smaller than she had on the ground. Rahim was already twenty, which meant she must be about fifteen. Nanda's age. No one their age should be out in the wilderness alone. It was obvious she wasn't from the area, since there wasn't another village for three days in any direction. He looked for signs of her companions, but there was no indication of other people on the muddy ground.

It was decided that three of the party should take her back to the village, while the rest remained. Nanda desperately wanted to return with the girl, to be there when she woke up and find out what happened, but he was the most adept at finding game for the hunt. If he left, the chances of their success decreased exponentially, just as their danger would increase. Sighing, he turned his back on the three led by Rahim and returned his attention to the earth.

Pushing the girl out of his mind proved difficult. The smell of her blood lingered on his skin, and his mind kept returning to the image of the infected wound at her shoulder. He felt his pulse quicken, and clenched at the walking stick in his right hand. Whatever had hurt her, he wanted to find it. And kill it. His brothers chuckled at him condescendingly, and his face grew red. He could feel the slight wave of their disapproval. Outsiders were not to be trusted. Why should he care for someone who was clearly running from something? No one left the village unless they had done something terrible, after all. He shook his head angrily. He hadn't gotten the sense that she was running from something. Rather, he wanted to believe she was looking for something. What that something was kept his mind occupied for the rest of their excursion.

They came in later than expected, dragging a large five-point buck between them. Instantly, the meat was being cut and divided, and their mothers began work on their communal meal. Nanda's sister came out of their house and took him aside.

“Where did you find this girl?” She asked him, eyes piercing into his.

“By the river.”

“She's in bad shape. She has a terrible fever, and she's not fighting it.”

He shook his head. “She's too exhausted.”

“Nanda," she sighed. "I don't think she's going to make it.”

He pushed past her roughly and stepped into their house. The girl was lying on his sister's bed under a light blanket, shivering. She had been washed off and her wound dressed, and he was shocked to find how beautiful she was. Her skin was just barely lighter than her hair. It was unusual for one of their race to be so pale, and he wondered again just how far she had traveled. He stepped closer and took her hand in his. It was clammy and hot. His sister came up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder. Together, they willed the girl to wake up.

Slowly, her eyes opened. Her blue eyes focused on his, and as he heard his sister gasp behind him, he suddenly understood just what she was running from. In that moment, his heart went out to her.

Their planet was no place for a half-breed.