Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,29
She’s wearing a reddish-orange dress I find absolutely adorable, with a strap over one shoulder, fitted all the way to her waist, which then fans out and hangs loosely over the hips, creating gentle waves in the fabric all the way to her knees. So much material. I can’t help but look to my clothes and realize the beating they’ve taken in just a few short weeks.
Juniper wets the pixie’s lips. It doesn’t take long for her to lick her lips and her limbs to slowly come to life. She tries to open her eyes but they’re weak and close right back. “Here, dear,” Juniper says soothingly. “Drink this carefully.” Juniper tips the cup and pulls on the pixie’s lower jaw to separate her lips, which are more dried out than a crystallized raisin. A slow and gentle stream flows into her mouth, but Juniper only allows a little. Her tongue works, swishing the water around to coat the dehydrated membranes within her mouth. She swallows without choking, then clears her throat. A weak moan escapes and her body suddenly weighs heavier in my arms. After a moment, the young pixie drinks a few more sips of water.
Juniper pours the remaining water into my mash and stirs to make it really thin. Then she pours it into the cup and begins feeding the pixie. When she’s done, I gently lay her back on the ground and she seems to fall asleep instantly.
“Hopefully she’ll sleep well,” Juniper says as she brushes the pixie’s bangs out of her eyes.
“She’s so young.”
“I know. They used to bring pixies in their twenties, but now they’re bringing in younger and younger pixies.”
“What’s next? Eight year olds?” I snap bitterly. I want to be angry and spout my opinion but my body is so tired. No wonder most of the pixies lay around all lifeless. It’s not that their minds aren’t capable of contemplating things, it’s that their bodies are so flippin’ exhausted it’s all they can do. By the time I make my way to my spot near the edge, I just collapse. I don’t even make it to the shower this time.
Chilling screams wake me from a dead sleep. Confused, I spin madly, searching the sky for spriggans, the ground for deadly beasts, or just about anything that could cause the abnormal shrieks that fill the air. Juniper figures it out first and rushes to the new pixie, who’s the creator of the noise that awakes the entire pit. I’d head over myself but Holly’s already on her way. Lucky for the new pixie it isn’t Willow. She’d probably just punch the girl in the face to shut her up, not hug her and rock her like Holly’s doing. The pixie is still frantic and whatever words she’s choking on don’t make sense at this distance. I have no doubt Juniper will be able to whisper sweet thoughts to calm her eventually.
It’s early. Most pixies are lying back down, trying to get a bit more sleep before the sky completely lightens. Half tempted to do it myself, the coarseness of my skin reminds me I never showered last night. The new pixie’s going to need time for a thorough washing, so I decide to beat her to the shower and rinse the grit and grime off my skin. Afterwards, as much as my muscles ache and whine, I’m too alert to fall back asleep. The navy blue sky is already fading to a lighter shade and streaks of orange and pink color the wispy clouds above. Deciding to help out, I grab a fresh bucket of water and head over to our so-called kitchen area. I wash the cups and bowls piled up from last night. Not much washing is needed as everyone pretty much licks the bowl clean regardless of how unappetizing the meals are. When everything is clean, I dump the water and fill the bucket with fresh once more.
As I’m carrying the water back, a spriggan appears and lays our food carefully on the ground. It surprises me, seeing how every spriggan that’s carried me before had no scruples about letting me drop to the ground with at least six inches to go. I catch the eye of the spriggan and I immediately realize it’s a female. Maybe that’s why she’s so careful with the food. She nods her head at me before taking off and I stare until she’s out of sight. Careful with our food and attempts to be