Page 85 of The Dead Don't Talk
My grin grows as I set down my inked-dipped pen and meet the wide blue eyes staring back at me over the book I’ve been writing in.
“Yeah, Cassia?”
The little girl isn’t ours, but when we found her cold and starving during one of our scouting adventures, I knew she had to come with us. She was orphaned, her parents nowhere to be found, and all alone. No name. No clue how old she was.
Best we could gather is that her family had turned.
So, we brought her here, integrated her with the other kids, and the entire community helps care for her.
She might stay inside the walls, but whenever we’re here, she’s right here with us.
It only made sense to name her after my best friend.
“Papa Bear said to ask you.” She holds up a covered basket, her reference to Wilson making my heart clench. “I keep it?”
I’ll admit that my stomach drops out and a part of me is terrified of what she’s found, but when I tip back the fabric keeping the contents contained, I laugh.
“A fuckingkitten? Where did you find this, little one?”
She shrugs her slender shoulder, her curls falling into her face as she sets the basket down and scoops the poor animal out with her tiny hands. It dangles like a shadow across her torso as she tucks it over her arm, squishing it’s dark meowing face next to hers.
“I dunno. In the woods or sumfin’.” She pets its black, furry head, pulling its eyes wide and I laugh harder.
“Do you know what to feed it?”
“Yeah!” she yells loud and the kitten squeals. “Milks.”
I snort. “Only when it’s little. When it gets bigger, it’s gonna need fish and birds.”
“Okay!” Another squeal from the kitten. Another laugh from me. “And the box. Papa said he’d make a box for its pee.”
My heart swells at another mention of Wilson, and my face aches from my grin. “A box, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s gotta poop and stuff.”
“You’re smart, little one. What do you think Moros would say?”
Her brows bunch real tight and her eyes take on a dark shade as she squints them. But when she starts talking with a deeper voice, I cackle. “I’m not carin’ for the thing,” she rasps, mocking Moros. “You better keep it clean and fed—” her voice tips back to its normal pitch and I have to hold my stomach together, “—but I will! I swear. I even name it Death. After Daddy.”
I clench my chest and can’t contain the grin that has tears rushing to my eyes.
“Okay, okay.” I swipe a finger below my eyes. “Let’s go tell him.”
I gently take the all-black creature from her arms and hold it up to look it in it’s pretty green eyes.
“Welcome to the family, Death.”
Until The End
