Talen

by Shay Savage

  Then again, I’ve been thinking it might be time to move on. I could head south, following the river. I could even climb up the western mountain and see if there is any sign of life on the other side. My options are limitless.

  The problem is, I like living around Plastictown. I like the residents, the river, and the easy access to the Thaves’ goods in Hilltop. I don’t want to leave, and my head is far too messed up right now to make any kind of decision. Sleep must come first.

  Of course, I left my new sleeping mat back at Ava’s tent, so the ground is my only option.

  I leave the general area of my hiding spot and find a place on the hill that is flat and not too rocky. I brush away some of the ash on the ground and lie down, wrapping my jacket around me for the little warmth it offers.

  Though I’m exhausted, sleep doesn’t come. Instead, continued memories traipse around my head like a herd of goats in a marketplace. I don’t want to think about my former life with my father, and I consider smacking myself in the face just to give me something else on which to focus.

  With a grumble, I roll over and try to get more comfortable on the ground. Ash billows up with my movement, and I remember that I never retrieved my scarf from Mack’s mouth. I pull the edge of my jacket up over my nose and think about what I might have to trade with the clothing merchant when I see a slight movement in the trees.

  Holding my breath, I stare in the direction of the movement. Though there is a dark shape partially concealed by a tree, I can’t determine what kind of animal it might be. There are deer in the area, but I had heard no noise—I had only seen the shape move.

  As I stare, the shape moves again—slowly and silently—from one tree to another.

  It’s a person.

  In fact, I’m almost positive it’s the dark-haired woman-thief I drove out of Hilltop just two days ago.

  Chapter 7

  I sit up and casually rub the back of my neck. I don’t look in the direction of the dark shape, but out of the corner of my eye, I can see that she’s stopped moving. I wonder how long she has been watching me and feel a slight sense of panic that she might have been following me when I stashed my coins.

  I thought I had been careful. I should have noticed if she were around when I headed up the hill, but I am also still a little out of sorts from my earlier encounter. Maybe she saw me when I crossed the clearing before heading to this little plateau on the hillside. Maybe she came across me after I settled down to sleep. Maybe it just doesn’t matter at this point.

  I wonder how long she’ll stay right where she is, knowing I’m awake. How long can she stand there, unmoving, hidden behind a tree? If I stood up and walked in her direction, how would she react? Would she run from me, fight, or try to talk her way out of the situation? I also wonder what she would do if I were to fall asleep. Slip away quietly? Try to rob me? Kill me?

  I have no idea.

  Though my heart rate has increased, my thoughts are calm again. Hunting is familiar territory though I’m playing the part of the prey. Right now, I’m comfortable with waiting for her to make a move.

  So, I sit without ever looking directly at her. I rub my neck again, stretch out my arms and legs, and crack my knuckles while I keep an eye on the dark shape in the trees. She stays remarkably still, which I find impressive. I continue to sit and observe for some time, shifting my position occasionally and even rummaging through my pack on the pretense of looking for something. I know how uncomfortable she must be trying to remain motionless for such a long period of time. The longer she stays in place, the more she will develop the urge to move. The body wants to shift weight from one foot to the other. The mind wants to wander, making unintended movements more probable. I bet by now, her nose is starting to itch. I smile at the thought and wonder how long I can make her keep this up.

  It’s time for a little payback.

  Lying down again, I keep one eye half open to watch. I have to wait for several more minutes before she dares to move a little. She’s still being cautious—not coming any closer and moving quietly behind the line of thin, bare tree trunks. I never hear her footsteps.

  When she’s partway between two trees, I sit up abruptly, and she freezes in place. I look around as if I’ve heard something but don’t stare in her direction. I stand and crane my neck as if to see farther down the hill before I lie back down slowly. Again, she stays still until she believes I’ve settled back down. After she takes a couple of steps, I raise my head again, look down the hill, and then wrap my jacket around me.

  I continue to play this game with her until she finally figures out she’s being manipulated, stops, crosses her arms over her chest, and just stares at me.

  I can’t help it—I laugh out loud.

  “When did you notice me?” Her voice floats softly over the ashen terrain.

  “I’ve known the whole time.” I sit up with my knees bent and feet flat on the ground. I wrap my arms around my knees and raise my hand to beckon her with one finger. “Why don’t you join me?”

  “Liar.” Her tone is matter of fact, not accusatory. Ignoring my request, she stays where she is, arms still crossed.

  “Am I?” I grin and beckon again. “Come on over here. It seems we are going to keep running into each other, so we might as well get acquainted.”

  “Not until you admit to when you really noticed me.”

  I go through a bit of an internal debate before deciding I might as well be truthful. She’ll quiz me on whatever answer I give, so I might as well come out with it.

  “When I rolled over a bit ago,” I tell her. “Caught your movement in the trees.”

  “Not until then, huh?” She takes a couple steps forward and stops several feet away. Now I get a clearer view of her expression in the dim light, and she’s smiling.

  I glare at her, not appreciating the implication she’s made but also wanting to maintain my composure. Had she really been following me? And if so, for how long? Could she have spotted me on the other side of the river?

  I try to hold my smile in place as I contemplate the implications of my last thought. Could she have been there on the east side of the river, watching from the woods as I assaulted, stabbed, and killed a plastic worker? If she did see it all, what would she do with the information?

  I force my fear down and try not to make any assumptions, but if she saw what I did, I’m going to have to do something about it. I don’t know what exactly, but I won’t be able to just let that go. Maybe if I push her to reveal what she’s seen, I’ll have a better understanding of what she knows.

  I’ve killed once tonight, and the thought of doing it again turns my stomach.

  I could continue to question where she might have seen me and gauge her reactions to each inquiry, but that will take some time. I’m good at determining the truth of someone’s words, and lies can often reveal more than accurate responses. Again, it’s a process that takes some time—hours or days. I don’t have that luxury.

  At the moment, she has the upper hand. I need to change that now.

  “I’ve already got blood on my hands tonight,” I say, trying to sound ominous but not sure if I’m really pulling it off. “How about we just relax a little and chat?”

  Her posture changes minutely. Her shoulders stiffen as she pulls back slightly. She obviously doesn’t expect my words, and I’m now sure she didn’t witness my crime. She sees me simply as a rival thief and nothing more. I relax immediately.

  “Please”—I pat the ground beside me—“just have a seat.”

  She walks slowly, keeping her eyes on me the whole time, and then sits off to my left, facing me, as she pulls her bandana from around her nose and mouth, letting it rest around her neck. She’s out of arm’s reach though still close enough for me to get my first really good look at her.

  Though she still wears a black sweatshirt with the hood drawn over her head, I can see that her hair is dark brown, not black as I thought before, and her eyes are dull hazel or green; I can’
t tell for sure in the dim light. Her high cheekbones and narrow chin give her face a heart shape, and her complexion is a rich caramel color. She’s relatively tall with a slim build and long fingers.

  She’s remarkably beautiful, and I feel my skin start to tingle with her proximity. I have to resist the urge to scoot myself closer to her.

  “You have a name?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she replies tersely, “do you?”

  “Talen.” I sit back and wait for her to respond.

  She narrows her eyes slightly, studying me closely. Her muscles are tense, as if she’s ready to spring into action at any moment. She likely is, but I don’t want a confrontation at this point. I only want answers.

  “Well?” I say. “Are you going to give me your name now?”

  “No.”

  “We aren’t going to get far then, are we?” I sigh and shake my head. “Give me a fake name, then. I need to call you something.”

  “Rumpelstiltskin.”

  My instinct is to laugh at her literary reference, but then I realize she has actually given me far more information than she intended. Though a handful of children’s stories are shared orally within Naught families, Rumpelstiltskin isn’t one of them. Whoever this woman is, she’s had some formal education at some point in her life. She, like me, has been brought up in a Thaves household.

  “All right, Rumpel,” I say, unable to hold back a chuckle, “where did you come from anyway? You haven’t been in this area for long.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to answer your questions?” she replies, narrowing her eyes at me.

  “Out of the kindness of your heart, of course.”

  She snorts and looks away, folding her arms across her chest again. She looks back at me with one eyebrow raised, her expression stubborn and challenging. For some reason, the look goes straight to my dick.

  In all the time I’ve been in this area, Ava is the only woman I’ve shared a bed with, but that has always been purely platonic. None of the local women have ever caught my attention, and my self-imposed function as the head of lost and found has put me in a position of being everyone’s friend. Neither the desire nor the opportunity has ever presented itself.

  I can’t deny the attraction, but I’m also annoyed. I’ve become rather used to being treated with a bit of reverence around here, and her lack of answers is beginning to piss me off. I really want to take a swing at her just to even the score from our first encounter, but it isn’t necessary, and I would ultimately feel bad for hitting her without cause.

  I feel a rumble in the earth below me. It only lasts a few seconds, but a few small rocks trickle down the hill as the shaking subsides. Clouds of ash follow the rocks, and the woman pulls the bandana from her neck to cover her mouth and nose. I end up coughing, and I’m reminded that I will need to get a new scarf as soon as the marketplace is open again.

  The woman adjusts the bandana over her nose and then braces herself against the ground with the palms of her hands, looking around nervously. I listen carefully, but I don’t hear any additional activity in the surrounding hillside.

  “That’s the third one tonight,” she says.

  “Is it?” I only noticed two, but I might not have felt a minor one when I was in the tavern.

  “They’re getting more frequent.”

  “It happens,” I say, trying to brush off the topic as I brush ash from my pant legs. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”

  “Maybe you don’t know what’s worrisome,” she mutters.

  “I’ve been through plenty of quakes,” I tell her. “They come and they go. We haven’t had a big one in many years.”

  “Maybe we’re due for one, then.”

  “The closest fissure is hundreds of miles away and on the other side of the mountain range,” I say. “Even when there is a large quake, the damage in the valley is always minimal.”

  “Maybe you haven’t looked at the other side of the mountain lately.”

  “And you have?” I chuckle and shake my head. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve climbed the western mountain all the way to the top and looked over the other side? Do you really want me to believe that?”

  “Maybe there are other ways of knowing.” She smirks at me.

  “Maybe,” I say, emphasizing the word she keeps repeating, “you need to stop stalling and tell me who you are and what you’re doing here.”

  “I have no intention of telling you anything,” she says, pushing herself off the ground and standing over me. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  “You were the one following me, remember?” I make a wide gesture with my arm. “Plenty of other people out there to harass.”

  “You cost me a whole night’s take,” she says. “I owe you one.”

  “And you cost me a rather sore jaw,” I reply. “Maybe we’re even.”

  “Far from it. I needed those supplies.”

  “Stealing batteries would have been a serious mistake. I saved you from being obvious and getting yourself caught.”

  “Never been caught before.” She raises her eyebrow at me again.

  Again, the look sends a pleasant shiver down my spine, up my thighs, and focuses on my crotch. I have to shift positions to keep my hardening dick from being noticeable through my jeans. I pull my jacket around me to make sure I’m properly covered and not making a fool of myself.

  “At least you were smart enough not to go back.”

  “I haven’t gone back because I had to cut my second rope. I need another one before I can get over the wall again, and it takes time to make it.”

  “Oh, that’s right!” I snap my fingers, grin, and then point at her. “You still owe me a back massage for that.”

  “In your dreams.” She rolls her eyes.

  My mind wanders to just such a dream, and I have to shift positions again.

  “Just make sure you don’t go back there,” I say. “I’m not giving you another warning.”

  “I don’t need your warnings,” she says with a glare. “Why do you think you get to hoard everything they have for yourself? I have just as much right to it as you do!”

  “Do you now?” I ask softly.

  “I have a right to whatever I can get away with.” She gives me a self-righteous smile. “A girl’s gotta make a living.”

  “Not in this valley, you don’t.”

  “The Thaves’ town isn’t in the valley,” she says with a shrug. “It’s on a plateau. Either way, now that I know you’re around, you won’t catch me again.”

  “Don’t press your luck.” I shake a finger at her.

  “In my experience, there’s no such thing as luck.”

  Her words strike a chord in me. It’s not the words themselves as much as the tone and the delivery. They give me a sense of having heard the exact same words said the exact same way before. It only takes me a moment to place the phrase.

  She’s quoting Star Wars!

  I blink a couple of times as I stare at her. A typical Thaves citizen would have little access to actual motion pictures—the expense of the electricity alone is more than almost anyone can afford—and yet here she is, actually quoting a movie from over a hundred years ago. Even with my upbringing, movies were a rare and treasured experience. I only recognize the quote because Star Wars had been one of my favorites.