From the Ashes

Chapter 11: Golden Knife

I slept in that room for a long time. I didn't want to touch the bedding on the bed, so I pulled out a thick cloak to cushion the ground. It didn't work at all, but I pretended it did.

When I woke up, the sky outside was fire-orange, and Ash was at the wheel. In the light of the sunset, her hair was brushed with ruby and gold, and her arms were set ablaze like a cinder in a fire. I got up, stretching, and came to her.

"I can steer from here," I said.

"Thanks," she said dryly.

"Why are you scared?" I asked. The question tumbled out; I hadn't been anticipating it myself.

"What?" she said.

"Of blood," I said. The more I thought, the more it made sense- the way she gingerly held the bloody bird, the way she looked away when I pricked my finger.

"I'm not scared." She didn't blink at all. She said it with such conviction, I almost believed it- she was the kind of person who could turn black into white. But actions spoke louder than words.

I just waited there, and didn't speak.

"I miss- how it used to be," she said finally.

"What do you mean?"

She crossed her arms and pressed her lips together. She seemed to be summoning up courage for something. "I miss when the Sun was a planet, and when water was blue. And parents lived forever, and fairytales were real. When I looked at red and thought of the poppies that grew in the field behind our house, and not- blood." Her voice cracked on the last word. "I miss my childhood. I didn't get enough of it. I didn't appreciate it until it was gone."

A lump seemed to have grown in my throat. I was going to ask her if she wanted to talk, but she pushed past me, into the cabin, and the door slammed closed.

The next few days were a cycle of sleep/steer/sleep/steer, where we took turns and didn't look at each other, or even talk at all. I slept off the aches from the horses. I hoped Tyler was taking care of them- I remembered how John loved them so much.

I was the one steering when land came into view- not just a speck, but large as my hand outstretched from my eyes. I gave a shout, and Ash shot out of the cabin.

"What?" she said.

"There!" I said, pointing wildly. "There it is! There is the United Kingdom!"

She gave a small smile. "So it is."

"Wow!" I gaped. "How long will it take us to get from here to Camp Aqua?"

"Depends. They may have moved the camp from England." She hesitated. "They may- imprison us, actually. Or catch us. Aqua is an Undead camp."

Well, that was just my luck.

"You can talk them out of it, right?" I said.

"I doubt it," she said. "But we shouldn't fight. Just tell the truth. If we're no threat, they'll let us go."

"Then what?"

"We go."

"But what about the treaty?"

"I'm Undead. I'll make friends with them, I suppose. There's a chief of each camp. We'll have to do it with words." She was deep in thought. "I have an idea."

"What is it?"

"Respect," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"I'll explain later," she said.