The Wasteland Soldier, Book 1, A Fractured World

Five

Stone kept watch as Emil and Tomas slept. The only sound outside the building was the wind.

Emil had dozed, with her back against the wall, but was finding deep sleep impossible to come by. Earlier, Tomas had made a small fire, the flames now dwindling, and they had shared boiled water seasoned with tiny leaves that Stone had emptied from a pouch. They had eaten slices of dried halk, one of the few breeds of wild animals on Gallen; hunted and skinned for meat, fur and hide. She was tired, unable to stop yawning, her eyelid rolling shut and then snapping back open, but was desperate to stay awake. She knew the protection these two men offered was something not easily discarded but she had no trust for them. They had killed the men who had hunted her and probably had their own motives for doing so - no one helps anyone in the wasteland - but neither of them had asked anything of her and they hadn't forced her to travel with them and they had willingly shared food and water. Perhaps they pitied her. She suddenly thought of soldiers dressed as bandits and confusion gathered in her thoughts.

"Stone?" she whispered.

He looked slowly at her, rifle in one hand.

"Why are you ...?"

He raised a single finger to his coarse lips and turned his back on her to continue watching the streets below. They were on the second floor of a corner building where three roads converged, all choked with debris and the twisted metal husks of vehicles from centuries before. Tomas had said Stone had few words, but despite his grisly name, the Tongueless Man, he certainly had a voice. He was obviously not comfortable using it. Her father has said she used hers too often and then he would hug her and tell her to never stop using it. Never stop talking and never stop fighting. She wished he was here. She wished they were all here. She didn't want to remember that day. She blinked away a tear and looked at Tomas, snoring lightly. Had he known a life like her one?

There was hardly any light in the room and she felt cold as the night crept in. The air was stale and the wind continued to whistle through the gaps in the walls. With a blanket draped over her shoulders, she pushed herself onto her feet, shivered and gingerly stepped around the dying fire. Stone's head shifted, acknowledgement that she had moved, but he didn't turn to look at her. She eased down alongside him and followed his line of vision. She saw nothing on the streets below but he seemed very tense, his dark eyes active.

"Thank you," she said. "For today."

She waited for a response from him but there was none.

"You both saved me."

Nothing.

"Tomas says you have few words. I mean, how does that work? Can you talk but you don't like to?"

He nodded.

"Why do they call you the Tongueless Man? Did someone try ...?"

Stone let out a mildly frustrated sigh and she stopped. Emil could sense he was uncomfortable with her conversation. He was probably used to long spells of silence between them both and now she was here disrupting it with questions. He pointed to her patched eye and then at himself. It took her a moment to understood what he was trying to tell her.

"I'm a Pure One. That's what they call me." She smiled at him. "It's just a stupid name. Like with you, the Tongueless Man, another stupid name."

He nodded and in the gloom she thought his mouth, hidden in that ragged beard, had curved upwards. Though maybe not. Then she realised how bad he smelt. His clothes reeked. His hair reeked.

"Is Tomas your son?" she asked, settling down with him, pulling the blanket tight around her.

Stone shook his head.