lordofthefries: (→ my life choices bit me in the ass)
[personal profile] lordofthefries posting in [community profile] attackonwalkers


She sticks out.

Sasha knows she'll always be different when compared to the rest of them. Tiny town backwoods girl has nothing on big city money boys like Jean and he makes sure she's reminded of that just by his presence alone (god forbid he let her get away with mispronouncing his name just once.) She doesn't know the first thing about how to work smartphones or MP3 players or anything like that. She's seen them, been on the Internet all of twice in her lifetime, but she's never had one of her own. Didn't matter really aside from not being able to afford it because where her childhood house stood, close to the forest, they wouldn't get reception there anyway. Designer duds weren't even a thought when the electricity was cut and there was no oil for heat in the winter and they prayed that hypothermia wouldn't set in before the sun rose.

When she sits around listening to them trade life stories, she stays out of it, stays on the edge of things, nose in a book pretending she can make sense of the science texts she finds while scavenging because no one wants to hear about her childhood spent sitting in a bush waiting for food on four legs to pass by or eating cans of beans day after day because some kindly resident from town took pity on them and left a box of them on their porch, knowing that their pride wouldn't let them take it in hand. It's a good act that she's getting better with; none of them know that her true way of speaking, the one she is most comfortable with is damn near unintelligible to the untrained ear. But it can only take her so far when they ask her a question about technology or the world outside her small Kentucky county and she can only look at them with confusion written all over her face.

So Sasha wants to make herself stand out in other ways. No one can hunt like her. She teaches them, but in no case has the student surpassed the master yet. No one can kill, skin, and gut a rabbit like she can. No one can walk as quietly and light-footed as she can. She makes sure they have something to eat, even if it's not enough to fill their bellies all the way, and today is no different. A mile away is as far as she'd gone (no further, not alone, at least. She's no Connie.) and comes back with four fat squirrels who died quickly with an arrow to each of their heads. They're tied to a rope strung on her waist for easy carrying and as she makes her way to the compound, she can't wait to get a little praise for another job well done.

It's something she craves as much as food these days.
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“His last words: "On ne passé pas!”

July 2014

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