With every broken bone, I swear I lived
A winding road meandered out of the Inner Quarter, across the Bone Bridge and off into the hills. It quickly lost it's cobbles and paving, and when the city disappeared behind hedgerows and hills it narrowed into a wheeltrack overgrown with blue grass and wildflowers. Farms dotted the landscape. Houses older than the first war say next to animal sheds and outhouses, and newly harvested fields spread out as far as the eye could see, golden in the stark sunlight. The warmth had gone out of the wind save for a moment at high noon, and tumbleweed accompanied the dust devils on the journey west.
Roughly half a day's walk from the city, any signs of habitation had grown scarce indeed. Trees took over, hedges and brambles thickening while the grooves carved into the soil by countless carts and wagons became harder to discern. On one hill the ruins of a house sat empty, untouched for many years. A flock of wild horses had laid claim to old sheep pasture and where once a garden had been only weeds remained. Yet some things still remained of the past.
On the western slope a large orchard still remained intact. A little wilder than it had been in its prime, the trees had taken to growing as they pleased, while blackberry and roses fought with tall grasses and wildflowers for dominion on the ground. Row upon row of apple and pear climbed the slope, at this season laden with fruit of every color - from palest yellow to striped yellow and gold and green, to deepest red. Big apples, small apples; and all filled the air with their heady enchanting fragrance.
Seated on the front step of the house with her back against the rickety door, Maea had closed her eyes and half dozed in the sunlight. Out of the wind it was pleasantly warm; a blackbird trilled in an overgrown rose bush by the well while a bumblebee kept buzzing around the half-eaten apple in her hand. All was still and quiet - even peaceful - and unusually she felt no need to be on her way anywhere.
She was expecting company any time now; and despite her best intentions a tingle of anticipation kept starting up inside whenever she squinted at the sky. It was noon. He should be here soon.
Roughly half a day's walk from the city, any signs of habitation had grown scarce indeed. Trees took over, hedges and brambles thickening while the grooves carved into the soil by countless carts and wagons became harder to discern. On one hill the ruins of a house sat empty, untouched for many years. A flock of wild horses had laid claim to old sheep pasture and where once a garden had been only weeds remained. Yet some things still remained of the past.
On the western slope a large orchard still remained intact. A little wilder than it had been in its prime, the trees had taken to growing as they pleased, while blackberry and roses fought with tall grasses and wildflowers for dominion on the ground. Row upon row of apple and pear climbed the slope, at this season laden with fruit of every color - from palest yellow to striped yellow and gold and green, to deepest red. Big apples, small apples; and all filled the air with their heady enchanting fragrance.
Seated on the front step of the house with her back against the rickety door, Maea had closed her eyes and half dozed in the sunlight. Out of the wind it was pleasantly warm; a blackbird trilled in an overgrown rose bush by the well while a bumblebee kept buzzing around the half-eaten apple in her hand. All was still and quiet - even peaceful - and unusually she felt no need to be on her way anywhere.
She was expecting company any time now; and despite her best intentions a tingle of anticipation kept starting up inside whenever she squinted at the sky. It was noon. He should be here soon.
maea
