Rashkah’s mother is mourning the death of Rashkah’s last surviving brother when the raiders attack their village. This short piece explores what happens immediately after.
A Vignette for Rashkah can be found in An Anthology of Battle or as a stand-alone title at Smashwords, Kobo, Kindle, iTunes, and Nook.
First Page: A Vignette for Rashkah
Rashkah shifted uncomfortably against
the back wall of the hut, watching as her mother laid her head once more on her
brother’s dead chest. Rashkah's mother's tears were quiet now, the only sign of
her grief the occasional heave of her body as she sobbed without sound. Her
fingers traced the badge on the corpse’s uniform, then the familiar lines of
its face now frozen in the awful peace of death.
Rashkah rocked her head back against the
bamboo, glancing up in time to see her mother bend across the body again.
Rashkah rolled her eyes at the ceiling.
Her brother was dead. The grieving had
begun when his bullet-torn body had been found on the village trail a week ago.
He was still dead, and the fighting continued. It was time to move on.
Rashkah looked at his corpse and felt
nothing. She hadn't known her brother well. He was rarely home and, when he
was, he stayed mostly with the men, too old to have any time for a little girl.
Her hand drooped across her knee. She
waggled her fingers listlessly and rolled her eyes again. Surely her mother was
finished by now. No one should grieve this much for the dead. It wasn't
possible to be that sad when someone died. She wasn’t. Besides, there were more
important things to worry about, like food and water, and preparing to move to
somewhere safe.
In the hills more gunfire sounded. The
echoes of it bounced off the mountains and rolled down the foothills to where
Rashkah sat. She wondered if it would cause another avalanche. Another
shattering staccato reached her. It sounded closer this time. Interested, she
turned her head towards it and listened.
Outside, in the village, she could sense the
tension rising. There was the sound of footsteps running, voices shouting,
mothers screaming at children and babies crying.
END EXTRACT
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