The Long Stairs

Day Four

Penny glanced at Lockjaw and winced. Only moments before, the horse had shied and pulled up lame, throwing both of them off. He landed—face first—just beyond the road, hitting a dead juniper branch across both thighs. Penny fared better and managed to stumble to her feet. She took stock of her downed escort, waiting for him to roll over on his back. He just lay there on the ground, trembling and moaning through clenched teeth.

Just put some lead in his face and end the suffering. Same for the horse.

On cue, the poor animal gave a shrill nicker. It was on its side, labored breathing rising and falling from beneath its slick butternut coat. The horse thrashed and tried to stand again, but she knew it was dying. It snorted, jerking its head and trying to lift it. Penny spied the dark blood gleaming in the horse's muzzle.

"You'd better finish her. No reason to let it suffer longer than it should," Lockjaw said.

"And what about you? You sufferin' too?" Penny replied.

"Curse your hide woman, I'll be fine. Just give me a moment."

"Every minute you lie in the dirt, our friends get closer. Unless that slipped your brilliant mind."

"A goddamned cruel bitch you are. How 'bout doing what I asked and shut the hell up."

Stowing a response, she cut across the road, opposite from Lockjaw, hoping to find something she could kill the horse with. They might need the ammo still, so better to find a sharp, heavy stone. She soon realized it wouldn't be a problem.

Resting in the low brush were several choices for her. Returning, Penny collected the scattered provisions and saddlebags from the horse. Then she brained it with the rock.

Now look at yourself. Out here in this shit-hole.

All she ever wanted to be was a ballerina. Yet these were nothing more than doe-eyed and disremembered dreams. Penny shuddered uneasily, the thought gnawing at her.

Just what the fuck am I doing?

It was a far cry from the stage in Victoria. That life came crashing down hard and without remorse, now no more than a distant memory. Left alone by a dead father with no future, she grabbed the only option and came west with Graft. The next eight years were a blur. Inked in the inconsequential footnotes of history.

Penny going to Cinder.

Penny learning Babel and Cant in a couple of months.

Penny practicing how to ride a horse for work.

Penny trekking to Rook.

Penny living like a gypsy.

Penny in Sullen, in Ember, in Brood.

Penny falling in love with a scar squire. Then watching him die from consumption out in the Gloom.

Penny Dreadful.

All she ever wanted to be was a ballerina.

The sound of a hard cough broke her from her stupor.

Lockjaw stood next to her and the dead horse.

"Seven Devils, woman, you're as cursed as they come. We were lucky yesterday to get to the second station and cross the Cut, we'll never make the third."

"Not with a lame gimp slowing me down. Besides It was your fat ass that killed the horse. Just like any other whore you have to pay to ride."

"Hey, now lady--"