The First She ✓

FIFTEEN

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She was a bitch.

While she was stocked with education, she was starved of humility.

As Vrox carried her through the wilderness, she cried like the baby that he probably thought she was. She mourned the days she had a pure heart. The organ was now swarmed with maggots of arrogance and evil.

She had called her savior all sorts of things– brute, inferior, simple. There was no difference between herself and the European conquerors who undermined Native Americans for their cultural differences.

Vrox was no savage. He was a king on this planet, and she was a peasant seeking mercy. She allowed her hatred of men to dig its claws into her and juice out her humility.

She was fucked up, and she had been trying to pretend she was whole by taping herself together with strips of her university diploma.

He continued to carry her for what felt like miles, being too busy scanning their surroundings to focus on her. She cried silently as she hung from him, raining tears on his bare chest.

It was when they arrived at a clearing that their journey paused. She lifted her head from his shoulder, observing the lake that blocked their path.

Vrox walked to a flat rock that was oddly burgundy-colored and sat her on it. She was quick to pull her skirt down her thighs and wipe her face. Although her cheeks were dry, her sniffles continued.

Vrox was more interested in her physical injury than her emotional distress. He kneeled and lifted her foot to examine it. Realizing that he would want to cover the injury with medicine, she reached for her purse and offered him leaves.

He shook his head, rejecting her offer, and then began to comb through nearby shrubs. The sound of leaves rustling joined her sniffles as she waited for him.

Within minutes, he presented a handful of white hackberry leaves. A sharp gasp ripped out of her throat when she saw that his hands were scratched up as if they got chewed on by thorns. She reached for his wrists, which she couldn't help but notice were thicker than her ankles.

Vrox was taken off guard by the boy's grip. It was unusual– since Kira rarely made attempts to touch him.

Gently, he pulled away and began to crush the leaves. These were stronger than the ones he had been applying to Kira's slit, but they were rarer to find. They only grew beside lakes that didn't have fish in them.

Once he had a glob of the paste in his hands, Kira reached out and swiped a handful off.

"There is no need to rush. I will apply this to your foot, and–"

Vrox's words dried in his lips when Kira began to rub the paste on his hands. She was coating his scratches, apparently worried about the insignificant cuts

Laughter rumbled out of Vrox's chest. "Do no worry. It will take more than a few scratches to end me."

He pet the boy's hair to award him for being thoughtful, and then shifted his attention to his foot. The wound was deep and dirty. He'd need to coat it soon, or else it would get infected. There was no way that Kira's tiny body would be able to fight off a fever.

He started to tap medicine on the wound softly. He wished he had clean water to wash away the dirt, but the water of the lake was contaminated with bugs. It wouldn't be worth using it.

Kira clenched her fists and winced every few seconds, hating the sting that came from his care. She could tell that Vrox was trying to be as gentle as possible, but her foot could swear that he was trying to lodge the trunk of a tree into it.