As Old as the Trees
by Elizabeth Anderson
Crow’s heart was like a drum.
It beat inside her, always constant and never failing, but the rhythms it struck into her were easily changed. Sometimes soft and melancholy, sometimes fast and nervous. Sometimes it was angry, giving her headaches.
But now? Crow’s heart beat fearfully as she stoked the fire, sparks flying up from where the charred wooden stick touched the burning wood. It was a small jet of flame, glimmering in the dark, cold woods. Crow wouldn’t risk a bigger one, especially since Beetle was still out looking for food and she couldn’t put him in danger.
Sitting down on the rocky ground, Crow pulled her freckled legs into her chest, brushing some stray wisps of ashy hair from her face. Beetle would be back any time now.
As if hearing her thoughts, the young boy suddenly appeared, startling Crow more than a little, and she took a deep breath as she got her feet. His dark skin and dark clothes blended into the forest all too well at night.
“Crow? I got ya some raspberries, if ya want ‘em,” Beetle said, reaching down to open his satchel and pulling a small sack out of it, lumpy with said berries.
“You positively sure they’re raspberries?” Crow asked, just making sure. Beetle nodded his head with a smile and walked over to her, dropping the pouch in her hand and pushing her fingers to close around it.
“Absolutely positively sure,” he said.
Beetle wasn’t much shorter than Crow--he could look at her almost eye level now, and it made her proud. They’d been traveling for two years now, fugitives of the Shell, the empire that ruled the land. They’d grown to be best friends, aging woman and spritely teenager, still in his prime as he would be for a long time. Crow hoped.
“Thank you,” she said, letting a ghost of a smile take her face. She should tell him. “Beetle, honey, sit down for a moment, will ya?”
He tipped his head at her, curiosity and concern taking away his grin. “Sure.” He glanced around his feet, finding a nice flat rock and slowly taking a seat. Crow did the same, but she didn’t bother finding a rock. She didn’t mind getting dirty.
With a hand, she traced a faint line in the dirt, heart still beating like it had been before Beetle came back. She looked at the ground, then up at Beetle, then back down again.
“I’m going back to the Shell,” she began, not daring to meet his eyes. She braced herself for his response, knowing he’d be confused. But he said nothing, and Crow glanced up, seeing he was sitting patiently, waiting for her to explain herself.
“I...well...they’re out looking for us again,” she said quietly. “I found a poster today. About us. It’s really not safe for us out here. We’ve been saying that the whole time we’ve been running, but…” Crow paused, looking for the right words. Then she gestured at the woods surrounding them. “I’m getting to be as old as the trees, Beetle. Soon my body is going to break down like the trees, too, and I won’t have you dragging me behind you. There are chances to escape. But I can’t take them.”
She looked up at him, then, openly showing him that she was afraid, and she reached out and took his hand. He was frowning, eyebrows furrowed in thought.
“Beetle, I’m going to turn myself in. I’m going to tell them that you were killed by a wild beast, and you are going to take your freedom and run with it. I’m going to give you your best chance.”
“Crow, you shouldn’t. We can escape togeth-”
“This is my fight now.” Crow silenced Beetle, squeezing his fingers in her own. “Now do what I say, young tadpole.” She smiled gently. “My body may soon be fading, but I’ll never be old enough to forget you.”
It beat inside her, always constant and never failing, but the rhythms it struck into her were easily changed. Sometimes soft and melancholy, sometimes fast and nervous. Sometimes it was angry, giving her headaches.
But now? Crow’s heart beat fearfully as she stoked the fire, sparks flying up from where the charred wooden stick touched the burning wood. It was a small jet of flame, glimmering in the dark, cold woods. Crow wouldn’t risk a bigger one, especially since Beetle was still out looking for food and she couldn’t put him in danger.
Sitting down on the rocky ground, Crow pulled her freckled legs into her chest, brushing some stray wisps of ashy hair from her face. Beetle would be back any time now.
As if hearing her thoughts, the young boy suddenly appeared, startling Crow more than a little, and she took a deep breath as she got her feet. His dark skin and dark clothes blended into the forest all too well at night.
“Crow? I got ya some raspberries, if ya want ‘em,” Beetle said, reaching down to open his satchel and pulling a small sack out of it, lumpy with said berries.
“You positively sure they’re raspberries?” Crow asked, just making sure. Beetle nodded his head with a smile and walked over to her, dropping the pouch in her hand and pushing her fingers to close around it.
“Absolutely positively sure,” he said.
Beetle wasn’t much shorter than Crow--he could look at her almost eye level now, and it made her proud. They’d been traveling for two years now, fugitives of the Shell, the empire that ruled the land. They’d grown to be best friends, aging woman and spritely teenager, still in his prime as he would be for a long time. Crow hoped.
“Thank you,” she said, letting a ghost of a smile take her face. She should tell him. “Beetle, honey, sit down for a moment, will ya?”
He tipped his head at her, curiosity and concern taking away his grin. “Sure.” He glanced around his feet, finding a nice flat rock and slowly taking a seat. Crow did the same, but she didn’t bother finding a rock. She didn’t mind getting dirty.
With a hand, she traced a faint line in the dirt, heart still beating like it had been before Beetle came back. She looked at the ground, then up at Beetle, then back down again.
“I’m going back to the Shell,” she began, not daring to meet his eyes. She braced herself for his response, knowing he’d be confused. But he said nothing, and Crow glanced up, seeing he was sitting patiently, waiting for her to explain herself.
“I...well...they’re out looking for us again,” she said quietly. “I found a poster today. About us. It’s really not safe for us out here. We’ve been saying that the whole time we’ve been running, but…” Crow paused, looking for the right words. Then she gestured at the woods surrounding them. “I’m getting to be as old as the trees, Beetle. Soon my body is going to break down like the trees, too, and I won’t have you dragging me behind you. There are chances to escape. But I can’t take them.”
She looked up at him, then, openly showing him that she was afraid, and she reached out and took his hand. He was frowning, eyebrows furrowed in thought.
“Beetle, I’m going to turn myself in. I’m going to tell them that you were killed by a wild beast, and you are going to take your freedom and run with it. I’m going to give you your best chance.”
“Crow, you shouldn’t. We can escape togeth-”
“This is my fight now.” Crow silenced Beetle, squeezing his fingers in her own. “Now do what I say, young tadpole.” She smiled gently. “My body may soon be fading, but I’ll never be old enough to forget you.”