Fumbling, he groped through the rushes until he found it: a fruit the little girl had been holding before he’d knocked her into the water. His clothing was drenched, his body shivering. He trudged through the water, struggled on to the riverbank. She was still there, moving on to a better place. He shot a glance back over his shoulder at the body of the child riding the river away from him. It didn’t matter nothing mattered anymore. He started sloshing toward the shore but stopped, frustrated by his own confusion. Before her fragile innocence could become distorted by years, warped into something hateful, something wicked and cruel. Glad to help, glad to speed her on her journey to the next life. He stood there in the frigid water of the river, feeling conflicted. She took her time about leaving him, as if reluctant to go.
He let go of the child, keeping his eyes on her as she floated away, turning slowly on the current. The noise was loud, drowning out the thunder of his pulse. The whistling-blur of cicadas whirled up to speed from the dense growth along the riverbank. Her legs stretched away from him, bobbing on the surface.Īll around, frogs and birds resumed their melody. Her black hair rose to float on the calming surface of the water, along with the embroidered fabric of her skirt. He held her there until her frail little body finally gave up and relaxed into death. He locked his arms, clutching her against him as her bony elbows ground into his ribs, her legs churning the water. He gripped the girl more tightly as her struggles grew desperate, frantic. He supposed it didn’t matter the girl’s name would just be a helpful addition to his prayers.
He didn’t know her name, which upset him. Whips, Toothpicks, and Doorstoppers by Stevie CollierĪrjun stared down at the small girl drowning in his arms. The Skincutter’s Daughter by Joshua Robertson Ragged Heroes: An Epic Fantasy Collection
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