Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) (13 page)

Surprise, surprise. Willow is my new station partner. Maybe she gets off on seeing others in misery. Maybe that’s what drives her and keeps her more lucid than the others.

             
I
won’t
say I hate having Willow as my partner – hate is such a strong word – but I don’t like not having any one to talk to. Yeah, Holly shuts down quite a bit, but at least she’s willing to talk some of the time. Going through the day speechless is making me absolutely miserable. And really lonely.

Another night, another scream. Like every two hours. Fern isn’t taking to this new life very well. I can hardly say I blame her. It’s bad enough being forced into slave labor, but at her age…it’s just cruel to strip the freedom from a pixling that’s just beginning to experience it for the first time.

             
Fern cries a lot. And begs for her momma. Poor Juniper consoles her as best she can, but I guess those that grew up with a mother find it hard to let another take her place. I sort of envy her for having one to begin with.

             
I never thought I would wish to be like the other pixies spread out around me, all dazed out and immune to emotion, but today I wish I could keep the sobs and pleas coming off this little pixling from breaking what’s left of my heart.

As I lay at the edge of the cliff with my arm draped over the side, I wonder what day it is. Not how many days I’ve been trapped here – I’ve long lost count of that – but which day exactly? Thursday? Saturday? Is it Tuesday back in the Hollow where Poppy, Tin and Tracker are enjoying their day off? Maybe they’re down by the river again. Oh, how I miss them. Even Nutty Nutmeg. I’d happily take a stinger to my bum and be the butt of her jokes now.

             
I’m not sure when it began, but I’m blacking out a lot now. Sometimes when I come to, I find myself working a different station than I last remember. Did I wander aimlessly from station to station
,
or did a night pass and I not even realize it? How can someone lose that much time without the slightest idea?

             
When I ask Willow about it, she looks at me like I’m an idiot.

             
I feel so lost. Maybe even a little broken. There’s this fear eating me up from the inside out that I’ll never leave this place. Maybe that’s why I’m blacking out. Maybe my mind is trying to protect me from the emotional trauma I’m on the verge of encountering.

             
Please, Mother Nature. Please. Send someone to save me. Anyone.

“What?” I whine, my hand reaching out to stop the foot digging hard into my side. I’m too weak to actually stop it so I’m grateful the foot’s owner stops on their own.

             
“Would you please stop?” Willow. Her voice comes off as tired and whiney as mine.

             
I groan, rolling from my stomach to my left side. “Stop what? You’re the one kicking
me!
”

             
“You keep singing in your sleep.”

             
Dumbfounded, my head rocks side to side. “I’m what? What am I singing?”

             
“I don’t know,” she says, moaning
the last word
for dramatic effect. “By the sound of it, neither do you.” Her eyes close and her palms go up in the air and bounce with each word, “Please. Just. Stop.”

             
I huff. “I’m sorry. I’ll try.”

             
My right hand goes to my forehead as she makes her way back to her side of the pit. Even if I was singing, I’m surprised she heard it way over there. I stroke my eyebrows outward in. I release a heavy sigh and my arms fall lifelessly back to the ground.

             
The sky is really dark so sunrise is still a ways off. As I lay there in the stillness of the night, tears make their way down my cheeks and splash to the parched earth beneath me. That’s funny; I didn’t even feel my eyes swell or the muscles around my eyes tighten. Come to think of it, I
don’t
feel
my stomach process
ing
my dinner or my feet
aching
either. I didn’t even feel the tension in my head
,
but I found it necessary to stroke my eyebrows absentmindedly. Am I really that out of it? I hope not. I don’t want to be here, to know what I know and see what I see, but I don’t want to become one of the lifeless pixies around me even more.

             
But what if it’s something I can
’t
stop?

Today was hard on my body. Really hard. My bowl of mash sits beside my sprawled out body, still full because I have no desire to touch it. There’s been a constant numbness in my forehead all day. Like I’m on the verge of a headache that never comes.

             
A storm is coming; at least
for
the opposite side of the canyon. No matter what seems to happen over there, it never ever happens here. Rain never comes to quench the thirst of the land, wind never brings scents or pollens, animals never travel through, birds never nest. I can’t remember the scent of rain anymore. As much time as I spent atop the canopy of our Hollow, how
can
I possibly forget that? I remember it has earthy smells; I just can’t remember the exact scent or the taste of rain on my tongue.

             
Gentle hands graze the side of my body.

             
“Don’t give up on me
,
Rosalie.” It was a slow recognition but my head finally lifts toward Juniper. “Look deep within yourself. You’ll find the strength to see yourself through this.” I sigh, lift my upper body off the ground and place my chin atop my knees. She softly massages the back of my head, and although it feels good, my head feels heavier and groggier than ever. “Don’t allow yourself to fall into despair like the others.”

             
I lay my head sideways on my arm and glance around at the others. They’re quiet, dazed. They almost seem numb. “Why not? Why can’t I just zone out and forget too?”

             
“Because you’re stronger than that.”

             
“I’m not that strong,” I mutter. “Definitely not compared to most of the pixies back home.”

             
Juniper pulls her hand away – strange that I immediately feel a sense of loss – and sits down beside me. Her joints are stiff and her movement shaky, so she uses my shoulder to support herself to the ground. “I meant you’re strong of mind, strong-willed. I knew it the moment I learned you survived the additional day in the hole. You’re a fighter
,
Rosalie. A survivor. And I need you to stay that way. To step up and lead these pixies once I’m gone.”

             
My neck snaps so fast I’m lucky it didn’t break. “What?” I ask a little too harshly.

             
Juniper peers over the cliff and scans the world of life beneath us. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I almost forget at times that beauty still exists. Flowers still bloom, animals still play, trees still dance in the wind.” I look to the few straggly trees outlining our prison. Nothing moves here. It’s like we don’t exist so the wind doesn’t bother to come. Juniper sighs and spreads her lips outward. “Nature is a beautiful thing.”

             
A wave of guilt overwhelms me. Here I am drowning in my own self-pity because my life has been stolen and turned upside down for a few weeks, when poor Juniper has been suffering here for more than a decade. I’m such a selfish brat.

             
“How are you doing these days, Juniper?”

             
Her mouth twitches and her eyes dart frequently at the distant landscape, not focusing on anything for more than a second. “I’m not a young pixie anymore. My body fades a little more each day.” She turns and her glistening eyes meet mine. At least something still sparkles naturally. “This is why I need you to be strong. You’ve seen these pixies. They need someone to lead and take care of them. Together I think you and Willow can do that.”

             
“Willow!” I burst. I sense a few pixies hear and turn our way, but since Willow sleeps on the other side of the pit, I’m hopeful she’s deep enough in sleep to not hear. “She’s not going to work with me. She hates me.”

             
“Willow’s hatred lies solely on the faeries and spriggans that keep us here. Try not to judge her too harshly. Her anger is how she deals with our situation. It’s what keeps her strong and moving forward. I’ll take that over defeat and submission any day.”