Alexander looked over to Lissie from Monsieur d’Cirque’s back. Her eyes glowed. Endless wind over the Salt Flats threw her blond hair back like a flag, pointing to the line of the sick. They marched behind her like silent ants.
Lissie’s ringing voice had promised they wouldn’t feel the heat, and he didn’t. Murky black clouds tinged the sky. They drifted and danced above him, forming faces he refused to look at before coming together in a hanging shroud.
If the sun is dead, we don’t need to run.
Ruskin’s whimpers were softer, but they never stopped. Alexander scratched the dog’s chin.
The children were walking all around him. He kept his horse’s pace slow to avoid trampling them. Salt caked their faces. Their clothes were white with it, and their hair sparkled in the eerie light.
The other caretakers were walking below him, ushering the children forward. Alexander wondered if they counted him amongst their numbers.
Teaching was fun. I could say anything and they believed it. Much easier than lying to adults.
He reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a bottle at random. The label said ‘Gallian Sparkling’.
Of course it is.
From a region full of pretension.
I should have stayed there.
The cork came out with a pop, and the bubbles overflowed onto his hand. It tasted like snobbery, running down his chin and mingling with the salt.
“We stop here. They will be coming.” He heard Lissie’s voice in his mind. She hadn’t opened her mouth since she came out of the vault.
Nothing to do but obey. Riley and the Prime Minister had ridden ahead.
I would have liked to get to know Dottie better.