herself, Painter. And I wanted to help her, and Mouse – he would have if there was something he could’ve done, but she was too hurt. She died.”
Painter reached over and put a hand on Wren’s shoulder, and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry. That must have b- must have been terrible.”
Now the hard part. “I think she was someone you know,” Wren said.
“Me?”
Wren nodded. “We didn’t know who she was, not until today. We were trying to find out, but everyone was trying so hard to be careful and not give anything away. We didn’t find out until Miss Rae talked to some of people from the West Wall.” The West Wall was where a lot of the folks who used to live outside had made their camp. “They think her name…” Wren struggled to force the words out. “They think it was Snow.”
Wren saw the confusion on Painter’s face, watched as he slowly made the connection and then started shaking his head in disbelief. His hand slipped slowly off of Wren’s shoulder.
“No, it cuh – no, it couldn’t be her,” he said, not denying it so much as saying there was clearly a misunderstanding. “It couldn’t be. Why would you think that?”
“Miss Rae went out and showed her picture around, asking about her, and a woman said she knew her, but hadn’t seen her in a few days. A woman named Charla.”
Painter’s hand went to his mouth, fingers lightly touching his lips. Still shaking his head. “That doesn’t make any suh- sense.”
“Have you seen her since… the first time?” Wren asked.
Painter shook his head. “Nuh… nuh… no. She wouldn’t…” He shook his head again, and looked off to the corner of the room. Remembering, maybe. After a moment, he looked back at Wren. “But I’m sure it’s not her. I’m sure she’s just off, you know… she used to go off on her own, some, some, sometimes for days. Probably just exploring. She luh-luh-luh… she loves exploring.”
“Well, could you come back to the compound with me? Just to be sure?”
“I c-c-can’t, I’m working.”
“I’m sure Mister Sun would say it was OK. It’s your sister.”
“It’s not my sister!” Painter said, sharply enough that Wren flinched. Painter softened. “It’s not my sister, OK? I’m shh… shhh… sure of it.”
There was a tap at the door, and it opened a crack. Mister Sun leaned his head in. “Master Wren, Mister Able says it is time.”
He replied, “OK, I’ll be right there, Mister Sun. Thanks.”
Mister Sun nodded and smiled, but Wren could see the concern on his face as he withdrew.
“You won’t come back with me?” Wren asked.
Painter shook his head. “Maybe luh… later tonight, after I finish.”
“I don’t think it’s safe to come alone, Painter. Not at night.”
Painter just shrugged. He wasn’t going to change his mind. And Able was waiting.
Wren nodded. “OK. Well, I’m sorry. I hope we’re wrong.”
“You are, and it’s OK.” Wren nodded again and moved to the door. “I’ll come by in, in, in, a day or tuh – two, OK?” Painter said.
“OK.”
“And Wren?”
“Yeah?”
“Nice hat.”
Wren smiled and tried to force a laugh, but it came out like a lie. “Thanks. See you, Painter.”
“Yep.”
Able was standing at the door when Wren stepped out of the room, looking like he already knew how it had gone. He nodded slightly and put his hand out for Wren’s, and together they left the Tea House.
Wren cried the whole way back.
As they neared the governor’s compound, their path led them by the north-eastern gate and though Wren’s eyes were on the ground, he felt Able’s stride slow and his hand tensed.
“What is it, Able?” Wren asked, out of reflex. Able wasn’t looking at him, so he didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. When Wren followed his gaze, he saw what had caused him to react.
The remnants were strewn all over the street. The gate itself didn’t seem to be damaged at all, though Wren couldn’t tell if anyone had been trying to
Painter reached over and put a hand on Wren’s shoulder, and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry. That must have b- must have been terrible.”
Now the hard part. “I think she was someone you know,” Wren said.
“Me?”
Wren nodded. “We didn’t know who she was, not until today. We were trying to find out, but everyone was trying so hard to be careful and not give anything away. We didn’t find out until Miss Rae talked to some of people from the West Wall.” The West Wall was where a lot of the folks who used to live outside had made their camp. “They think her name…” Wren struggled to force the words out. “They think it was Snow.”
Wren saw the confusion on Painter’s face, watched as he slowly made the connection and then started shaking his head in disbelief. His hand slipped slowly off of Wren’s shoulder.
“No, it cuh – no, it couldn’t be her,” he said, not denying it so much as saying there was clearly a misunderstanding. “It couldn’t be. Why would you think that?”
“Miss Rae went out and showed her picture around, asking about her, and a woman said she knew her, but hadn’t seen her in a few days. A woman named Charla.”
Painter’s hand went to his mouth, fingers lightly touching his lips. Still shaking his head. “That doesn’t make any suh- sense.”
“Have you seen her since… the first time?” Wren asked.
Painter shook his head. “Nuh… nuh… no. She wouldn’t…” He shook his head again, and looked off to the corner of the room. Remembering, maybe. After a moment, he looked back at Wren. “But I’m sure it’s not her. I’m sure she’s just off, you know… she used to go off on her own, some, some, sometimes for days. Probably just exploring. She luh-luh-luh… she loves exploring.”
“Well, could you come back to the compound with me? Just to be sure?”
“I c-c-can’t, I’m working.”
“I’m sure Mister Sun would say it was OK. It’s your sister.”
“It’s not my sister!” Painter said, sharply enough that Wren flinched. Painter softened. “It’s not my sister, OK? I’m shh… shhh… sure of it.”
There was a tap at the door, and it opened a crack. Mister Sun leaned his head in. “Master Wren, Mister Able says it is time.”
He replied, “OK, I’ll be right there, Mister Sun. Thanks.”
Mister Sun nodded and smiled, but Wren could see the concern on his face as he withdrew.
“You won’t come back with me?” Wren asked.
Painter shook his head. “Maybe luh… later tonight, after I finish.”
“I don’t think it’s safe to come alone, Painter. Not at night.”
Painter just shrugged. He wasn’t going to change his mind. And Able was waiting.
Wren nodded. “OK. Well, I’m sorry. I hope we’re wrong.”
“You are, and it’s OK.” Wren nodded again and moved to the door. “I’ll come by in, in, in, a day or tuh – two, OK?” Painter said.
“OK.”
“And Wren?”
“Yeah?”
“Nice hat.”
Wren smiled and tried to force a laugh, but it came out like a lie. “Thanks. See you, Painter.”
“Yep.”
Able was standing at the door when Wren stepped out of the room, looking like he already knew how it had gone. He nodded slightly and put his hand out for Wren’s, and together they left the Tea House.
Wren cried the whole way back.
As they neared the governor’s compound, their path led them by the north-eastern gate and though Wren’s eyes were on the ground, he felt Able’s stride slow and his hand tensed.
“What is it, Able?” Wren asked, out of reflex. Able wasn’t looking at him, so he didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. When Wren followed his gaze, he saw what had caused him to react.
The remnants were strewn all over the street. The gate itself didn’t seem to be damaged at all, though Wren couldn’t tell if anyone had been trying to
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