A Rare Ending

Dunsa set down her sword. The monster was dead, the celebration ended, and Coll gone home to her husband and brothers. She stood at the edge of her fathers’ valley; their cottage and paddock directly below her. Neither was outside nor was the dog, but Dunsa lowered her profile to a cross-legged sitting position to avoid being seen. She hadn’t decided if this place was where she wanted to be just yet.

After the quest ended, Witta returned to his shop to sell the trinkets he’d collected and to make arrangements for obtaining and selling more from the Baltenes he’d befriended along the way, someone else did something else longish to describe but different from the first one on the list, and even Heb just went back to being a soldier. Dunsa hadn’t given it any thought. She stuffed her few clothes and her [quest prize thing] into a pannier and humped off into the mountains toward home expecting her enthusiasm to rise with each mile. And it did rise for the first bit. Occasionally she skipped when the trail flattened or declined. She’d even sprigged a forget-me-not and tucked it above her left ear—which made her cry and think of Coll.

Coll would be home for a week or more by now. The jumping, crying, and bellowing of her return already dulled to just a heartfelt squeeze in the kitchen or extended kiss before the day’s work dipping tapers.

240 words on day 887

Something Characteristic

“Come on, schab. This…” Uma inspected the body. “…this girl’s heavier than she looks.”

###

“If she’s being looked for and they find us carrying her we’re not going to…”

“Yah, yah,” Uma said as she set her end of the girl down. The girl’s arm flopped to the floor and the back of her fingers smacked the concrete. A metal cylinder tumbled out of her vest. The heavy but hollow sound captured all three mechanics’ attention.

The cylinder rolled in a shallow arc till it wedged under a wheeled Bainbridge tool cart a step from Narkkid. [describe the cylinder].

The girl twisted, and Narkkid, who still held her feet, crumpled to the floor. The girl rose to a low crouch; her stance wide and her arms out like a bear. Behind and above her, Uma stooped to catch her up like a child picking up an hissing kitten. The girl thrust upward when Uma contacted her. The effort lifted the larger rounder woman off her feet and tossed her into a plastic locker.

No one moved; the girl straightened up. She surveyed the front bay from the back corner over her left shoulder all the way around to Uma’s landing place over her right with a rotation of her head. When Tjon, then Narkkid came directly in her line of view her eyes darted to theirs. For Uma, she tilted her head to see better, then bolted out the garage door and down Honeyfarm Circle past Red Rodney’s.

Narkkid put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. The girl stopped abruptedly and turned. Narkkid waggled the [something characteristic] cylinder in her hand. Even at the distance she was Narkkid could see her lips tighten into a pissed sneer. The scanned up, looking to the sky over the Hartwhile shop.

“Incoming,” Tjon said. When the three looked back to the girl, she was gone.

“Hide it.” Narrkid handed the cylinder to Tjon. “Uma, get up out of there and get back to work on that Shortle’s flit. He wants it before noon.

Narrkid was scooping coffee grounds when the police landed.

350 words on day 886

Outright Embarrassed

It felt like autumn and it felt like morning, but it was the height of summer and noon. Overnight, storms cuffed the dry plains north of the city. Now, those storms bleaked the southern horizon and turned summer to fall and noon to morning. Everyone walking the streets on their way to lunch or other appointments bent their heads downward intent upon the wet-in-spots sidewalks.

Some seemed lost in their own thoughts other seemed to avoid eye contact so that the narrator didn’t call them out individually to walk them in front of a car or to name them. Others seemed outright embarrassed to be in this particular scene and were making side glances for unexpected alleys to turn down or even a stoop to run up.

127 words on day 884