Smoke On The Water | 18+

Chapter 7

Word Count: 1,716

Mangas avoided me like the plague during the day for the next few weeks. He chose to sleep in my tent, still, but is always gone before I wake- and he's not interested in conversation anymore. I can't blame him, though.

Ela has visited every morning to teach me certain things. We've woven a few more blankets, but lately, she's been teaching me about nature- and how to survive in it.

She tells me that we can go out on our own once my ankle heals, because being silent out there is more important than almost anything else she's tried to teach me.

Currently, it would be hard, considering the hardened clay boot I have on my foot.

Tarak, Ela's husband, comes to check on my healing occasionally. Sometimes he gives me putrid, bitter tinctures to try and speed things up. I wouldn't know if it's working, because I've never broken an ankle before.

Sure, I've broken a few fingers and toes throughout the years, but never something this major. I can't help but wonder how long my ankle will take to heal completely, because even after years of healing, the knuckles on my right hand will still ache if a big storm rolls through.

But maybe that's because I've never had a Tarak in my life.

The sun has risen and fallen again, prompting me to build a quaint fire in the hearth.

Ela taught me how to make a fire after she taught me how to weave, and though he doesn't say it, I can always see a bit of pride in Mangas's eyes when he enters the tent to a fire going.

I throw an extra log on this one for good measure.

All of our interactions are nonverbal these days. And to a certain point I'm grateful. There's no pressure to say anything, or even listen. Not with my ears, anyways.

I've been listening to him with my eyes. I can tell if he's had a hard day just by the way his chin sits, by the way he walks- by the way he breathes.. There always seems to be a million thoughts behind his silent facade, but he has yet to voice any of it.

And I won't push him.

He's been kind enough to let me keep my life.

I don't remember much, but I do remember that my mother never came back to our small cabin in the pines. Everyone said it was the Apaches, but I cannot believe that these people killed my mother.

If they let my wretched self live, and live among them, they couldn't possibly have killed her.

"Speak your mind." Mangas says from beside me as he holds out a chunk of meat from his bowl. I jump at his voice, as I hadn't even realized he'd entered- let alone sat next to me.

I take the meat, and just hold it- deep in thought.

I wonder what my mother would think of me sitting here.

I wonder what she would think of me.

"Evelyn." Mangas says, his hand gently landing on my shoulder. I realize I've been staring at him blankly for an unidentifiable amount of time, and a blush immediately finds it's way to my cheeks.

"Sorry." I tell him quietly. His smile is a small, gentle one as he shakes his head softly.

"Are you okay?" He asks me quietly.

For the first vocal interaction in weeks, this is nice. I didn't know it could be this nice.

I nod my head, and focus on eating the meat he's given me. It tastes like buffalo. I've also learned that we mainly eat horse and buffalo out here. Occasionally beef, if the hunters come across a longhorn.