A Simple Story

2 Beach

She gets up. Gulls and pelis call to her from overhead. The sky's as loud as an army, but she doesn't mind. She looks up over the palms, sees the thin line of smoke drifting up into the sky. Seems like as good a place as any to head. She could do with finding other folk. Nothing much of her ship left on the beach, but she still looks through the sand. Timber, logs, broken bits of a dream she once had, nothing left now but scraps she could remember, and a promise to a dead man to deliver a message. She sees the glint of metal half buried in the sand. The head of the hatchet's shiny and washed. It's a grim friend that she sticks in her belt. Might be the only one she'll have. She makes her way up the beach to the break in the palms. Sandy hills leading to dirt rises. She walks the beaten path she finds, but doesn't know what she'll come up across. Doesn't really care much. She's dreaming of a drink when she rises over the last hill. Spies the old timber gate. Old shipwrecked wood, all tied up and as welcoming as can be. She can't help but stop and stare. The Girl stands at the gate, still as a statue. She hears rustling behind her, thinks it's a local and turns to greet them. Just an orock. Looks like a hog, if it was made of bone-white shell. It's sniffed out the Girl and decided to get closer. She watches it step up. She's never seen one before, so she doesn't know what comes next. It hits hard, spitting rock at her like she's cussed it out in front of its mama. She takes the shot right in the stomach and goes down like a sack of wet clothes. She rolls out of the way, just in time. She doesn't think, just goes at it in a fury. Bone-white shell, but it breaks like brittle tinder under her swing. Girl comes up breathing hard. She turns away and backs into the town, under the rough wood gate. Girl's nervous and young, but not so naive to turn her back on rustling bushes. Not anymore. They stay at the town's gate. Watching and waiting to see if she'll come back. The orocks move off soon after. She's all alone again. Good thing she's getting used to it. Damn good thing.