Thirteen

For the first few hours before and after the dawn broke, Julianna struggled and complained. She fought and questioned. She spat and admonished. Now, however, she was sluggish and stumbling, like a battered drunkard. Her lids were half opened and her hair looked unkempt. “B­itch,” Julianna threw out aimlessly. I cocked a brow.

“B­itch? Pardon?”

“That’s what you are,” she yawned, water gathering at the corners of her eyes. I allowed my befuddlement to slow my pace.

“What are you proposing?” Julianna spared a short glance at me, then guffawed.

“What was so complicated about that sentence? I thought you were supposed to be intelligent.”

“'B­itch'… I know nothing of the sort...”

The peasant woman chortled. “You don’t know what the word b­itch means? Jesus, I'm being taken hostage by a rebelling, sheltered teenager?”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Julianna muddled. She casted her eyes from mine now, as if I was a nuisance, then wetted her lips. “You have a strange way of speaking, girl. If you were designed to be a modern teenager, what’s with the accent and old style language? You’re not very modernized for a kid.”

“We speak the way of the Prophecy,” I settled, flaring my nostrils to bid the sweet, forest air into my lungs. Nine was much more proficient on tracking by scent, though that didn’t mean Three and I weren’t iniquitous. “The Prophecy took place in ancient times.”

“You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you—-”

“Quiet!” I hissed, throwing a single arm out in front of Julianna. My bones were of concrete—-or quite literally, steel——and the sound of Julianna’s abdominal making contact was unpleasant. “The song...”

The beautiful, enriched sound of a solemn song kissed my ears, vibrating into my chest. The song that I could not explain nor recite. Just listen. The song of the Protectors…

“A name, there is. Mirabella? Saddia? No… Calyx, perhaps? Yes, one of the traveling is by the name of Calyx—-” I am to blame, for I’d let my guard down. I’d been listening so contently to the sweet sound of the song, the beautiful versus of the unheard, that I hadn’t fetched the rumble pervading in Julianna’s own throat.

“RUN!” She screamed to the chosen. “GO!”