Beneath Shivering Skies by Georgina Jeffery

Author:Georgina Jeffery [Georgina Jeffery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Coblyn Press
Published: 2022-12-09T00:00:00+00:00

Carrion

After a fretful, stumbling journey through the dark, I arrive at the edge of town and rest briefly in the old orchard while dawn blooms over the hillsides. I put the dull ache of blisters out of my mind and focus on my plan. The people will be opening their shops soon. Waiting for open doors shall be easier than trying to break in.

I skulk through the narrow streets. People stop on their doorsteps to stare at me, and I hurry quickly by. My appearance is likely more ragged than usual. Too late, I realise my clothes are covered in bloodstains. I fold my arms and hunch my shoulders, willing invisible wings around myself. But I needn’t have worried too much – when town people spy something that may interrupt their own agenda, they are more likely to avoid it. Several men duck their heads as they walk past me. One harried mother mutters, ‘I’ve no change,’ thinking that I approach her.

I turn the corner to the pharmacy and slink inside. I must be quick. It is the same woman behind the counter who chased me out before. Hopefully, she has not seen me yet.

There is a shelf full of bandages. I stare blankly at them for a moment, then start grabbing one of everything.

Heels click against the tile floor. I drop plastic packets as I struggle to bundle it all into my satchel.

‘It’s you!’ cries the woman, from the end of the aisle.

I freeze in place. For a long second she holds my gaze. Then I bolt – but she is prepared this time. Her hand catches my sleeve. I shriek and hiss, turn to lash out with my other arm . . .

She is holding out a packet of bandages. Her face is tight, mouth pulled in a tense line. But her eyes are warm and gentle.

‘You dropped this,’ she says softly, letting go of my sleeve.

I snatch the packet from her. Bounce from foot to foot, uncertain whether to take flight again.

I’m uncomfortable under her quiet scrutiny. She looks at me openly, sees the whole of me – like Yolanthe sees me.

‘Are you hurt?’ she asks.

I shake my head.

‘Whose blood is that?’

‘My mother’s,’ I whisper.

Her forehead crinkles. ‘I can call for an ambulance.’

I shrink away, edging for the door. ‘We can’t do that.’

‘Wait.’ Her voice is so quiet. She holds out a hand, a gentle beckoning. As though she thinks I am a frightened deer, and she is trying so hard not to startle me. ‘How badly is she hurt?’

My voice wobbles. ‘It’s bad. Really bad.’

The woman worries at her bottom lip as she stares at the packets in my arms. Then she reaches to the shelves, pulls down a bottle of liquid and presses it into my hands. ‘Antiseptic. To clean around any wounds. Please, try to persuade her to come to the hospital. I’d even drive you–’

‘I’ll tell her,’ I blurt through tears. ‘Thank you.’

I feel the weight of her anxiety on my back as I leave.

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