Uncovered

Uncovered Part 2

After a mile of walking, her bare feet blistered and barren of energy, she allowed herself the pleasure of falling to the neighboring ground. It hadn't been long since the others had died, yet her well fare had all but diminished from then. All she was capable of now was sleep and thought.

So she decided to give herself a mere explanation.

Looking down at the book in her numb fingers, she pondered whether or not to toss it. Up till then, the little girl had been very careful to make sure the fact she did no damage to the cover, so the blood red crest resting on the front looked as fresh as it did the day she received it. A gold binding bound the pages together, with a strange insignia living on the crest; a crown surrounded by shards thought up only by the will of a determined endeavor.

It only made sense to leave it to dust, yet she pressed on with it still weighing down her good judgement.

Since the day she was brought to this strange land, all she had seen was wasteland and bones of others before her.

Solitude and confinement from all else.

But the fork in the path she walked upon was news to her.

And the figure before it was all but commonality.

A scarecrow you might say. Or maybe a ghost.

A thin smile manifested the space between the close rim of the hat he wore and a thin looking scarf. What a hat it was. A minimum of three or so sashes tightly fastened around the base, needles visibly impaled across the top, and occasional playing cards nestled between the fabric or simply and crudely glued across the hem. A pair of pilot goggles rested on his high cheekbones, eyes barely -- no, completely invisible. A cape cloaked his broad but thin shoulders, nestling itself at his neck, almost as if he was dead of it. A poorly cared for boots and a cane.

What a character he was.

And characters were something to stay away from, and so the little girl tried; and when he began to speak, his voice was anything but soothing, yet she felt herself drifting through his words.

"I do not believe we have met in person."

He removed the hat from his head in a curtsy manner, revealing no hair, or remnants of it.

She apologized with no words, yet then found herself using them. "I have no business with a character of your sort."

"Why, if characters of the sort do not please you, you're going to be quite displeased."

She stood quietly for a moment, not finding any words to throw back at him. After a while, she found it her turn to voice her undying opinion.

"I see."

"See what, o' child?"

She stomped her foot, displeased.

"Do not call me so!"

"My, maybe I was wrong! You are quite a character. You're just not good with openings, o' child."

"Have you decided where you go, o' child?"

"No, but I will take the path I see suitable, thank you very much."

"Know that you need to think quite carefully before choosing a path. Both have quite the different outcomes."

She shifted her footing. She did not like this man -or scarecrow -or, whatever he was. At least he comforted her to an extent that she knew she wasn't alone. She looked up, and found him twirling his cane expectantly and impatiently.

"I wait for your answer. What path will you take, o' child? It will all matter in the end. To me. And to you."

She shivered at the brief pause and sternness in his voice. It didn't aid her thoughts since her clothes were made to look almost like a pillow case. A worn, trampled-on, pillow case. The man must have noticed her uneasiness. He shrugged off his cape and draped it over her shoulders.

"It will serve you well until you find far more fitting clothing in the next town over, o' child."

"Kind sir, a question if I may."

"You may."

"Are there any others left?"

"Of who?"

"Of the others. Of people." She quietly answered, tugging the cape over her chest to escape the numbness.

"The others, you say. Do not worry. The next batch is brought in every week or so."

She frowned in distaste. "You call them batches? What grudge must you hold against us that makes you refer to us as cattle? You don't seem to be human, I recall."

"No grudges are needed, o' child. Now choose. Remember to take rest and pace yourself. You don't last forever. You know that well, o' child."

With a smile he handed her a wooden coin and black chalk.

"The coin for energy and clothing. The chalk to write." He lowered his hat and bent his head.

"Farewell, o' child. Yet a hello to meet again."

She watched as his silhouette folded into dust.

"Hello to you too, kind sir."