14
Nadine stared at the coyote.
The coyote stared back.
"Don't suppose," she said to the coyote, "that you're a skinwalker or anything."
The coyote said nothing, and continued to stare. Still laying on her back on the hard ground, Nadine tilted her head forward to look up at the moon instead. It looked a perfect circle in the sky.
"Didn't think I'd be that lucky," she muttered at the silence. The desert night was cold against her bare scalp.
Nadine was a difficult child to discipline. It was why her grandmother had sent her away. She hadn't wanted anything so strict as a military academy, and it was ironic that she'd accidentally chosen someplace worse. But even here, she continued to be difficult.
The pit had been ineffective. Nadine could go a remarkably long time without eating. Isolation didn't bother her when she had spite to keep her company. So now she got the cage. The cage was reserved for the worst of the worst. Nadine spent most of her time in it sleeping. The only real problem was the sunburns.
"If you want to eat me," she said to the coyote, "you're going to have to get me out of here first. Which, if you can, I'll let you have my leg for free."
She was very careful about rationing her water. She liked being smug about it when they brought her more before she'd had to ask. Stubborn and spiteful, and she would probably let herself die out there in the desert just to prove a point if it wouldn't have made her grandmother upset.
None of this was her fault. Nadine was difficult to deal with. She'd done the best she could. Too old to raise a child nothing like her.
"Is this what you want?" she asked the coyote, holding up her water bottle. She tilted her head back to look at it. Its ears had perked up, watching the water as she shook it. She sighed. "Of course you do." Her voice sounded raw to her own ears. She rolled onto her stomach, tricky in such a small space. "This whole desert," she said, "and you came here." The coyote looked at her. It looked back to her water bottle.
Grumbling all the while, she unscrewed the lid of her bottle. Cupping one hand, she poured water into it. Slowly, so as not to spill any of it, she wiggled her hand out through the wires the kept her trapped. Lucky for the coyote that her hands were so small. It lapped at the water, licking her palm and her fingers, and she giggled. She tried not to smile, because wild predators did not care for the sight of teeth, and she didn't want to risk her fingers any more than she already was. When it had licked her hand clean, the coyote sat down, seeming to wait.
"I can't give you any more," she said. "I've already screwed myself, here."
The coyote whined.
She scowled, and treated herself to a small and unscheduled sip straight from the bottle. Then she poured more into her hand.
"Okay," she said as it started to drink again, "fine. Maybe you're not, like, a dude, or whatever. But neither was Lassie, right? So if you can figure out how to call the cops, or something, that would be great. Because I know I haven't been great, or anything." She almost choked, but didn't. "But I'm pretty sure this is still super illegal."
The coyote licked every bit of moisture from her hand, and she made a face, because its breath was raw and rotting meat and the heat of the sand. "That's it for real this time, okay?"
The coyote seemed to get the hint this time. It trotted away, and she was almost disappointed. She didn't know why. It probably had fleas. It was probably just waiting for her to die so it could eat her corpse. She wiped her hand on her pants and curled up, watching it disappear into the shadows and over the horizon.
She missed having hair.
The coyote stared back.
"Don't suppose," she said to the coyote, "that you're a skinwalker or anything."
The coyote said nothing, and continued to stare. Still laying on her back on the hard ground, Nadine tilted her head forward to look up at the moon instead. It looked a perfect circle in the sky.
"Didn't think I'd be that lucky," she muttered at the silence. The desert night was cold against her bare scalp.
Nadine was a difficult child to discipline. It was why her grandmother had sent her away. She hadn't wanted anything so strict as a military academy, and it was ironic that she'd accidentally chosen someplace worse. But even here, she continued to be difficult.
The pit had been ineffective. Nadine could go a remarkably long time without eating. Isolation didn't bother her when she had spite to keep her company. So now she got the cage. The cage was reserved for the worst of the worst. Nadine spent most of her time in it sleeping. The only real problem was the sunburns.
"If you want to eat me," she said to the coyote, "you're going to have to get me out of here first. Which, if you can, I'll let you have my leg for free."
She was very careful about rationing her water. She liked being smug about it when they brought her more before she'd had to ask. Stubborn and spiteful, and she would probably let herself die out there in the desert just to prove a point if it wouldn't have made her grandmother upset.
None of this was her fault. Nadine was difficult to deal with. She'd done the best she could. Too old to raise a child nothing like her.
"Is this what you want?" she asked the coyote, holding up her water bottle. She tilted her head back to look at it. Its ears had perked up, watching the water as she shook it. She sighed. "Of course you do." Her voice sounded raw to her own ears. She rolled onto her stomach, tricky in such a small space. "This whole desert," she said, "and you came here." The coyote looked at her. It looked back to her water bottle.
Grumbling all the while, she unscrewed the lid of her bottle. Cupping one hand, she poured water into it. Slowly, so as not to spill any of it, she wiggled her hand out through the wires the kept her trapped. Lucky for the coyote that her hands were so small. It lapped at the water, licking her palm and her fingers, and she giggled. She tried not to smile, because wild predators did not care for the sight of teeth, and she didn't want to risk her fingers any more than she already was. When it had licked her hand clean, the coyote sat down, seeming to wait.
"I can't give you any more," she said. "I've already screwed myself, here."
The coyote whined.
She scowled, and treated herself to a small and unscheduled sip straight from the bottle. Then she poured more into her hand.
"Okay," she said as it started to drink again, "fine. Maybe you're not, like, a dude, or whatever. But neither was Lassie, right? So if you can figure out how to call the cops, or something, that would be great. Because I know I haven't been great, or anything." She almost choked, but didn't. "But I'm pretty sure this is still super illegal."
The coyote licked every bit of moisture from her hand, and she made a face, because its breath was raw and rotting meat and the heat of the sand. "That's it for real this time, okay?"
The coyote seemed to get the hint this time. It trotted away, and she was almost disappointed. She didn't know why. It probably had fleas. It was probably just waiting for her to die so it could eat her corpse. She wiped her hand on her pants and curled up, watching it disappear into the shadows and over the horizon.
She missed having hair.
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