The Wraiths of Will and Pleasure - By Storm Constantine Page 0,56

how long he’d spent in Saltrock. He wasn’t sure how he’d got there. He knew the story, and could tell it to others, but couldn’t remember the feelings, the experience. The world seemed suddenly too big, confusing and dangerous. Flick fought an urge to flee back to the cave and crouch in the shadows. He was alive and breathing. He must make the best of it.

For the rest of the day, he tended the patch of earth, pulling up weeds and carrying water from the pool to scatter over the wilting stems. He’d unsaddled his pony and let him wander free, sure he would not stray far. The way Ghost looked at Flick, the way they found comfort in each other’s presence, made Flick feel more horse than har. Perhaps Ghost felt the same. The pony rolled pleasurably in the dirt then shook himself. He sniffed things like an oversized dog. Ghost appeared, Flick thought, to be strangely happy to be in this new place. At home, they’d never felt so close.

Near sundown, realising he was hungry, Flick went hunting and caught a rabbit. It would not offer much meat, but its strong taste would go well with the mushrooms and the fat from its flesh would serve as cooking oil. It was dark when he sat down to eat in front of his fire and the moon had already begun her stately journey across the sky. Ghost shared his accommodation, and Flick was just mulling over the fact that pony dung would be useful as both fertiliser for his small garden and fuel for his fires, when he realised that he was not alone. He was alerted to a presence by a shrinking sensation in his flesh. At once, he turned and found himself looking up into a stern countenance.

The tall figure Flick had glimpsed the night before had emerged from the inner chamber and had crept up beside him. Flick saw at once that this was a man, human not har. He had dark skin and a hawklike countenance. Flick did not say anything, but immediately offered up his tin plate of food, in what he instinctively hoped was a friendly gesture.

‘I told you to leave,’ the man said. ‘I told you clearly. Did you not hear me?’

‘I thought you were a ghost,’ Flick said. ‘I didn’t think you were real.’ He hesitated. ‘Do you live here?’

The man took the plate and sniffed the contents. Then he handed it back to Flick. ‘This is my space,’ he said. ‘It is where I am.’

‘I needed shelter,’ Flick said. ‘I don’t mean to intrude. I have nowhere to go.’

The man nodded his head once. ‘That is sufficient,’ he said, and sat down on the opposite side of the fire, staring at Flick intently.

Flick found it impossible to eat under such close scrutiny. The day before, this elusive being had thought him a human female. He might not be so accommodating once he realised the truth. And where had he been hiding all day? ‘Will you share my meal?’ Flick said.

A smile flickered briefly across the man’s face. ‘Share my produce,’ he said.

‘I took only a few.’ Flick only had one plate, but he scooped another portion from the skillet onto it, and offered it across the fire.

The man took it and began to eat. ‘You are far from home, you are lost,’ he said between mouthfuls.

‘Mostly,’ Flick agreed. ‘Someone died. I had to leave home.’ He realised this sounded somewhat sinister. ‘I didn’t kill anyone,’ he added hastily.

‘I can see that,’ said the man, ‘but you cannot wash the blood away.’

‘No,’ Flick said. He looked at his hands, remembered the knife, the floor, the mop, the useless task of cleaning up the blood. ‘I made a promise to someone. I had to come here, but it was too late. It has all gone.’

‘Not all,’ the man said. ‘You should look with clear eyes.’

‘A settlement near here,’ Flick said. ‘That has gone. It’s abandoned. I was looking for people there.’

‘I did not think your kind could go back,’ said the man.

Flick’s flesh tensed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The past is cut away from you, so much that it feels like a dream. You should not attempt to go back. It serves no purpose. In that, your people are right.’

Flick waited a moment, then blurted, ‘You know what I am?’

‘Yes.’ The man put down the plate, licked his fingers.

‘You said I was a girl, you called me that.’

‘And you’re not?’

‘Not in the way