14 FROST 120
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When she was little she had a friend.
Not one in her head, a distorted memory of a lover long dead, but a flesh and blood friend who squealed and laughed with her. A friend with wild hair and crooked teeth. A friend who’d been cursed with the appearance of pimples early, but shot up like a tree in return. She’d cared for that friend dearly, and he for her. But the man the woman saw now was no friend. At least, not like how he had been before.
The cloth bags in his hands dipped as his grip on them slackened like his jaw. It had been a long time, after all. She would look nothing like the girl he had left in the Low City of Kalsazi. She would look nothing like how she was before at all. Dirty, and injured. Her eyelids fluttered, shut and open as her focus shifted. He’d gotten muscular. Somewhat. The greasy black locks she’d teased him for were pulled back from his face, bearing a cleared visage. The years had been kind to him.
She sucked in a breath, wheezy even in her ears. She wondered what it sounded like to him. Probably not any better. That was right; she’d always had better lungs than him. How the tables had turned. A laugh bubbled up in her throat. None of this could be real. The woman was sure she was still in the Warrens and the wraiths were merely leading her in circles.
Out. Out. OutOutOut—
“Out.”
“Out of where? Mo?”
The name felt wrong, even if it was in the right mouth. An affectionate shortening of a name that belonged to someone else. Someone not her. She could simply turn away from the man and let him wonder if he’d seen the ghost of a friend. But she couldn’t do that to Matthias. He’d always been so kind, so sweet. He had been her friend, once, when life was still blissfully simple because they were swimming in their own ignorance. But now that she knew, she felt different — she was different.
“Mo? Why don’t you. Why don’t you come with me?” Matthias held out his hand for her. A hand larger than her own. He’d grown, in more than one sense of the word. Their positions were usually reversed, with her lending him a hand. She sucked in another breath, considered the appendage a moment longer before taking it.
Part of her suspected that she would regret this.
When she was little she had a friend.
Not one in her head, a distorted memory of a lover long dead, but a flesh and blood friend who squealed and laughed with her. A friend with wild hair and crooked teeth. A friend who’d been cursed with the appearance of pimples early, but shot up like a tree in return. She’d cared for that friend dearly, and he for her. But the man the woman saw now was no friend. At least, not like how he had been before.
The cloth bags in his hands dipped as his grip on them slackened like his jaw. It had been a long time, after all. She would look nothing like the girl he had left in the Low City of Kalsazi. She would look nothing like how she was before at all. Dirty, and injured. Her eyelids fluttered, shut and open as her focus shifted. He’d gotten muscular. Somewhat. The greasy black locks she’d teased him for were pulled back from his face, bearing a cleared visage. The years had been kind to him.
She sucked in a breath, wheezy even in her ears. She wondered what it sounded like to him. Probably not any better. That was right; she’d always had better lungs than him. How the tables had turned. A laugh bubbled up in her throat. None of this could be real. The woman was sure she was still in the Warrens and the wraiths were merely leading her in circles.
Out. Out. OutOutOut—
“Out.”
“Out of where? Mo?”
The name felt wrong, even if it was in the right mouth. An affectionate shortening of a name that belonged to someone else. Someone not her. She could simply turn away from the man and let him wonder if he’d seen the ghost of a friend. But she couldn’t do that to Matthias. He’d always been so kind, so sweet. He had been her friend, once, when life was still blissfully simple because they were swimming in their own ignorance. But now that she knew, she felt different — she was different.
“Mo? Why don’t you. Why don’t you come with me?” Matthias held out his hand for her. A hand larger than her own. He’d grown, in more than one sense of the word. Their positions were usually reversed, with her lending him a hand. She sucked in another breath, considered the appendage a moment longer before taking it.
Part of her suspected that she would regret this.
