Something, for sure

Version 2.0, the Rewritten variation

A/N: I haven't written in months and have felt no motivation but never have I felt more able to write when I have 13 overdue assignments, 2 of those being tests and 2 more of those being fuckin end of semester exams. Anyway, enjoy this like 500-ish word rewritten drabble-original will be next chapter.

The sun had long assumed its resting place under the countless mounds that occupied the desert. The night was gloomy, no stars twinkled when overwhelmed by the sickly green-brown clouds that seemed to suffocate everything in their wake. 

Among the lonely grains of sand was a cabin, one that was familiar enough to feel comfortable in but not enough so to feel at home around. All signs pointed to the cabin being fairly new-definitely after the bombs-though the wood it was built with was shabby and dull from nature's elements. Smoke was rising from a hole in the roof, presumably a chimney. 

There was a knock on the door, indicating someone or something had finally found its way to Dahlia's personal sanctuary. Gripping her pistol, she made her way to a window on the front of the cabin. 

The perpetrator of the quiet _knock, knock, knock_ was a short girl with curly hair. She wore a blue tracksuit and was accompanied by a large backpack. Dahlia lowered her pistol.

'How could a kid have found their way to my cabin? It's in the middle of the desert, for Christs' sake-!'

Dahlia took a breath and opened the front door, staring down at the child. "What are you doing here? It's not safe," the women noted. She gestured for the stranger to join her inside, hoping that she'd appreciate the warmth that would negate the effects of the desert's harsh nights.

--

The child was barefoot and her arms were littered with bandages, almost completely concealing any skin on her arms at all. It was unsettling.

"I never got your name," Dahlia mentioned as she was making her way back from the kitchen, a tray with two cups in hand. 

The girl took a moment to think, her eyes shut tight and a hand on her chin in inquiry. After a few more moments, her eyes lit up as if recalling exactly what her name was. 'Which, is strange', Dahlia would think.

The girl's voice was hoarse, as if she hadn't said much for who-knows-how-long. "My name is Mary."

--

Mary's eyes were unusual, to say the least. As they chatted over tea, Dahlia would stare at the girl's eyes. A dark hue of pink, her pupils dark knives in the center of her eyes. Everything about this girl screamed at Dahlia "Bad news! Get out!" but through the entirety of the girl's stay, she hadn't done any harm.

 The presence of this child felt unnatural, as if despite the ways of the new world no one in their right mind, especially a child, would be found roaming the desert. 

"Would it be alright if I stayed for a while," the girl spoke as more of a statement than a question. Dahlia nodded reassuringly, understanding the struggles of mindless wandering. 

--

When the sky grew pale and the clouds slowly began to recede, Mary was fast asleep and Dahlia condemned to the couch. As she would toss and turn in an attempt to regain comfort, she'd give herself a mental pat on the back; maybe she wasn't as bad as she thought she was?