❝Shae Burrower, failed author and city girl, from Lavender Lane, at your service.❞
⎯⎯⎯
The story contained within these pages is not about me.
You all know of whom I write. If not by word of mouth or by the speculation of the Chileez Times, then by...
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The day everything changed started with Gino Morton's headache.
I was the last one on watch. The night was already lightning into dawn when I awoke. Usually, Gino had to shake my shoulder in order to wake me; this morning, he did not.
My eyes wandered over our campsite: the faint lumps of discarded baggage, the silhouettes of my team blurred by shadows, the yellow eyes staring back at me.
Shirka huffed silently and stood when I did. Her lithe body dipped into a stretch and, even though I couldn't see it, I knew her tail was curling about her.
A faint scrape of heel against earth grabbed my attention.
Gino Morton was leaning against a lumpy tree, hands covering his face.
"Gino?" My voice was a whisper, my footsteps light on the mossy ground. Shirka was completely silent, however, and I only knew she was next to me when my fingers grazed her soft fur.
He didn't raise his head. "Headache." It was all he said, words muffled behind calloused fingers.
I fumbled for my canteen, almost dropping it, and then crouched next to him. I almost placed my hand on his shoulder but decided against it at the last minute, and settled for holding out the canteen. "Here. Water might help."
"Thank you." He made no move to grab the water. He didn't move at all.
Lowering my hand and setting the canteen next to me, I wondered if he had headaches often. "Gino? Would sleep help?"
"Not really." He sighed, lowering his hands. He squinted at me. I could see the muscles on the left side of his face bunching, his eyelid snapping open and shut. "Nothing is going to help right now, Shae."
I frowned. "Why? What's wrong?"
There was a brief pause.
"I've been... suppressing my twitch." He didn't sound embarrassed at all, though he was hesitant to share.
His twitch? Exactly how unobservant am I? He'd seemed normal to me. I was about to reply when his nose scrunched and his head tipped subtly to the side.
Oh.
"Does it hurt?"
"My headache does."
The light was starting to chase away the shadows and I could see the shiver in the muscles beneath his skin.
Gino was watching my reaction. I don't know what he was looking for, disgust or pity, but I felt neither. And I was sure none of our other group mates would look negatively at him.
He shrugged one shoulder. "It's going to be very obvious the next day or so. The muscles will get tired."
I shifted my legs, sore where a rock dug into my hip. "You've always had it?"
