Maggie tripped and hit the ground hard and this time couldn’t get herself to her feet again. She had been running from the storm for three days, she was soaking wet, cold and exhausted and her heart felt so broken she feared it had stopped beating the moment Pocket had pushed her away……
“No,” She muttered, dragging herself against the roots of an oak tree to rest a moment, “won’t think of that.” She whistled up to the tree braches and crossed her fingers. A moment later a kestrel dropped to the ground and tilted it’s head curiously at her.
“Oh, me luck’ll change yet,” She dug in one of her pouches and pulled out the last of some dried rabbit meat and held it out at the bird, “Will ya take a message for me?”
The bird snatched up the meat and stood waiting.
“Right, right. Tell him: I’m commin’, Pocket ain’t wit me, but I’m commin’ and ta wait and don’t let him eat his hope and listen fer me and remember what I said about beads…” Lightening crackled across the sky and the rain began to fall harder, the center of the storm was moving closer. Maggie wiped at her wet face, “Take it to,” she lowered her voice and whispered against the birds feathers, “Tenk, Mr. Tenk.”
The bird made a curious dipping gesture and then lauched itself into the air, soaring away from Maggie and away from the storm, down the long path, toward home. Maggie gripped the bark with her fingers and hauled herself back to her feet, stumbling back onto the road. She wanted to sleep, to curl up someplace warm and dry and safe. But she knew where that place was, even as the wind promised it to her, gusting warm for just a moment and she set her jaw.
She took another painful step.
((Thought it’s been a while since I bothered to write anything, going to try and chronicle the whole journey back to New Babbage, but can’t promise I’ll actually keep up with it :) Comments always welcome!))