Before the Sky Fell

[ 17 ] Finger Painting

-17-

Finger Painting

"Whik Winfield," Charlotte said. "You know him?"

Sonora stepped back. "Whik?" She dropped to the ground and grabbed the iron bars. "Whik Winfield? You're sure? He's alive?"

"I'm as sure as night follows day."

"He was my neighbor. My friend. I haven't heard his name since the day they invaded. He was with me on the day I was taken. Is he here, on the island?"

"We were ambushed in the woods. They killed the men and took us women. I didn't see his body, though, amongst the dead I mean. He may have escaped. If you want to see Whik again, we can find him together. There's nothing left for you to hold on to here."

"This is my place," Sonora said. "I don't know anything else."

"This is not your place. No matter how long you've been around these monsters, you'll never be like them."

Sonora wore a white, semi-translucent gown. A beaded necklace hung on her chest. Her white hair fell gracefully on each shoulder. "I'm afraid that time has changed me. I used to be young and naive."

She moved the bowl of broth closer to Charlotte, who grabbed the splintered spoon. Its handle was sharp as a knife. She sipped from the bowl. "Time changes all of us. And if you're not young, then I don't want to know what that makes me."

Sonora smiled. Her teeth were perfect and Charlotte wondered how such a beautiful girl could stay alive in a place like this. "They've crushed me. Sonora, fetch this. Fetch that. Wear this. Undress now."

Charlotte reached through the cell bars and clutched Sonora's hands. A blizzard of red swept across Sonora's cheeks as she looked to her wrists. Charlotte tightened her grasp on Sonora's hand and moved her thumbs in reassuring circles on the girl's palm. It was then that Charlotte felt abrasions across Sonora's wrists in the cave between her forearm and dress sleeve. "What is this?"

Most of the wounds had faded into scars, but Charlotte saw the markings of fresh lesions that had just scabbed over. They were white dunes on a flawless desert of dark skin, and Charlotte wondered what demons lurked in Sonora's shadows and caused her to do such a thing to herself. The girl jerked her hand backwards and adjusted her sleeve to cover the suspicious markings.

Sonora's eyes were wide as the prison locks. "It's not what you think."

"Did they do this to you?" Sonora shook her head. "Poor girl, you've done this to yourself?"

Sonora's eyes welled up with moisture. Her long eyelashes quivered. "They used me. For teaching them our tongue. For breeding. They said that until we made new worlds, the Calacami would have to do. They said a new type of solider would be born, with the strength of a Lark and the prowess of a Calacami. For years I've been constrained to the inside, unable to feel anything but the choking grasp of the Lark's eyeful watch. I haven't seen the sun in weeks. I've felt it when I snuck glimpses out a window, but a feeling isn't enough to reassure me that it still shines."

Charlotte wanted to break down the bars and hug the girl. "So you resort to feeling pain?"

"It's better than feeling nothing; than feeling numb. I paint with it. The blood. I haven't seen rolling hills or tall trees in some time. Even on the approach to this island, they blindfolded me. I'm to serve one purpose: to deliver every wish of General Strinsil, the monster of the north. But painting lets me escape. I can paint whatever I want. With this I can create. I can feel."

Sonora gently caressed her finger up and down the ridges of scar tissue on her wrists. Charlotte was speechless. A dim flicker of light ran across the hallway as the flames from a mounted torch swayed from a draft of air. Charlotte looked to the curving corner past the row of cells.