Marked V: Tictoc

“Don't be a smartass. We're going to hunt. You do know how to hunt, right?”

She can't keep that blade always strapped to her. When I have the chance sans the blade, I'm going to slap the wench.

"Of course I can hunt. I am part of the Order."

She looked behind her, “Well, you coming?”  Marked IV


Took almost a quick jog to catch up with her. She was swift, quiet, efficient. She lay only one trap. I questioned if that were wise, but I kept my opinion to myself. She covered the trap with leaves. With a short blade she cut up fresh honeycrisps from a nearby tree. We hid behind a fallen log. Soon a young pug appeared. Dumb animal went straight for the fruit. One huff in and it was snared but she ate so greedily that before she realized it the trap enclosed her. She squealed a bit, startled more than frightened. Quickly, Phantom closed in. She craddled the animal in one arm and with the other she slit its throat with a one clean stroke. Death was quick and painless. I was impressed and thought Her humane. She positioned the animal on her side to drain the blood on a cloth she pulled from her satchel. It didn't take long. We dug a hole, buried the stained rag lest the flabby ground leeches found their way to it. Leeches feeding, the stench the least of offenses, would invite other more worrisome creatures so it was best to leave the scene clean. We tied up the pug and carried it back to the cavern.

“Find a stick sturdy enough for a spit. I'll collect wood for the fire.”

We worked silently and quickly. Once the pug was roasting, she spoke.

“While we wait, I'll tell you about your mother, Cebill. Your mother is Azek as you know. Your mother was always uncomfortable with her class and privilege. Still, you are shaped by your people and like most Azeks she is proud, arrogant and stubborn. Your grandmother would argue stubborness is not an Azek trait. Anyhoo, when your mother was a girl just about the age approaching her rite of passage, she decided to let her short coily hair grow. She put juju oil in it and twisted small pods all over her head. Your grandmother was furious. Your grandfather was indifferent. He said she was only a child acting out as all young people do. Well, that was the first of her acting out.

When it was time for University, your mother announced she would study anthropology and not sciences, politics or history as were the traditional courses for middle class women. Your mother and grandmother had a huge fight. Your grandfather tried to persuade your grandmother to give the girl some space. She wouldn't listen. She grabbed your mother violently by the arm and dragged her off for a private, heated argument. When they were done, your mother emerged even more indignant, defiant.

Your grandfather thought Cebill's behavior no different from the tumultuous relationship his wife and daughter had had since the girl was about six but he was wrong. What your grandmother told your mother that day rocked your mother's world. That day your grandmother told your mother she was Tictoc."

“What?”

“Ah, dinner is ready. We'll eat. Then more.”

Every Wednesday, Thom posts three words. This week: indignant, flabby, stench. Join us.