My Heart is Stone Yet Still it Trembles

[ Backstory ]

The last of the Cinderblock Sinners’ camps had fallen.

Surrounded by the broken remnants of her justice, Aurora Zbären’s boots left behind visceral red impressions in the sand as she walked, haughty and ambivalent to the scene. The dark shawl hugging her shoulders fluttered over the carnage, the only acknowledgement it received. No, Aurora’s pale eyes were trained on the busted covered wagon in front of her, from which quiet sobs emanated. She sniffed and pulled her wide black hat further over her eyes, concealing the X-shaped scars across her brow in shadow; the sorry creature inside did not deserve to see her stripes, even in death. Her judgments were hers alone to admire.

She entered the broken caravan, stepping over several hands, some still attached to their unfortunate owners, others not. Aurora scanned the cramped space, finally locking on a hint of movement as shoulders quivered in agony. There. She approached it, retrieving one of a pair of golden-tipped pistols, their muzzles carved into the shape of tiger’s heads. They glowed in the dim light, still hot to the touch from their workout. There was only a single exercise to complete before they could rest again, though it would not be for long.

Aurora reached out and grasped one of the shoulders, mercilessly turning the fallen creature over to reveal a lizard-headed man. He shrieked in pain as his torn skin met the splintered wood beneath, clutching his bleeding stomach with both arms. He looked up at Aurora through swollen, blood-filled eyes, barely managing to form words through the torment. “I know… why you did what ya did.” He said hoarsely, only just getting the “did” out before he was overcome with coughing.

Aurora’s only reaction was to kneel down, pressing the muzzle of one pistol to his neck. “As you should, thieving scum.” She replied, pressing harder to punctuate it. “You left that family to die out under the open sun. They would have if not for the rangers pursuing you… unfortunately for you, that distraction only turned them around. You didn’t count on Tiger Stripes takin’ those bumblin’ idiots’ place, did ya?”

The expression on the lizard-man’s face was not what ‘Rora expected. Fear, maybe, or anger, but all she saw on his face was relief. “That… hckk… that li’l girl gonna be okay?”

“No thanks to you.” Rora said coldly. “But you can make yer peace in hell.”

“Wait…” The lizard-man hissed as Rora readied to fire. “My neck… the chain. Look at it… please.”

Rora was tempted to ignore the request and fill the audacious thief with lead, but the determined look in his eyes was far beyond the saccharine, pleading stares the rest of the gang had offered her. Rolling her eyes, Rora yanked the chain from his neck, finding a bronze pendant that looked beaten and rusted hundreds of times over. There were tiny hinges on its left side, and unable to deny her curiosity, Rora popped it open. Inside the pendant was a grainy color photograph of the lizard-man, his arms cradled around a lizard-child with bright pink frills. Their faces were forever frozen into joyful smiles, holding one another for all eternity.

“My daughter, Ada-Rose…” The gasping lizard supplied. “She was the only egg ‘er mother gave me before she died.” His voice turned fierce as it faded. “She lives a few towns north… in Bonemine. Tell ‘er… tell ‘er the truth. About ‘er papa. She deserves that, at least, it’s more than I could ever give ‘er.

“Tell ‘er how sorry I am.” He added quietly.

Rora stood, frozen like a statue to the spot. Her finger wavered on the trigger. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go; she had meant to get in and get out with only the blood on the soles of her shoes to mark the occasion. The sudden regret that clung to her was as fleeting as it was overwhelming, and her grip tightened on the rusted locket.

“I’ll tell ‘er, all right.” She said at last, burning scores into the man’s skin with her eyes. “I’ll tell ‘er her father was as much a coward in death as in life.”

The guilt was gone and her aim was sure, but the unease remained past the ride to town, to the mayor’s office for the promised reward, to the bar for a drink, and long, long into the night thereafter.

Rora awoke with a cold sweat to the first rays of sun glinting off of the locket and into her eyes. She groaned, lifting a callused palm to shield them as she came to, faintly recognizing the bedroom and bed as that of the inn she had stopped at for the night. “Why don’t you goddamn spirits ever rest?” She demanded to know.

The hunk of metal’s only reply was to glare at her harder, and Rora glared back. “Fine.” She said with a sigh, taking the locket in her hand (and hissing through her teeth as it burned her).

When it cooled in her palm, Rora felt a distinctive presence in the empty room, but instead of oppressive and menacing, it was warm. The scent of vanilla cigar-smoke permeated the air, and Rora immediately stilled, her muscled body slumping forward as her head carried her back to a different time, when she was still soft with youth and joyously ignorant. She heard deep, masculine laughter from the next room, and contentment welled up in Rora’s eyes. “Where’s our Rory-Lory?” Said a voice. “Come play us a song!”

“I’m here!” Rora cried in a child’s voice, tears streaming down her face while she jumped to her feet. “I’m here… Jenner, Soren, Rawley… don’t ya’ll hear me?”

She raced towards their voices, which grew fainter the harder she ran. The room became an infinite space, the wood floors seeming to stretch a few paces at most, yet she never reached the door in front of her and was convinced to keep chasing it.

Before her fingers could touch the door handle, it all melted away before her— the walls, the floors, the door, everything— and she opened her eyes again. She had never left the bed, still wearing the same clothes she had worn when she arrived, holding the locket to her chest. The sun’s placement had shifted to the noon watch, no longer creeping through the window. Rora’s tear-streaked cheeks and the ringing of distant laughter in her ears were the sole reminders of what had taken place in her mind, and she let out a shaky breath. The guilt she had felt the previous night had returned with a vengeance, and Rora grit her teeth together until the stiffness of her jaw turned painful. She forced herself up from the mattress, knowing she would have to leave soon, or be confronted with those agonizing visions again.

Before that, though…

“I’ll find you, Ada-Rose.” She promised, resolutely slipping the necklace into her pocket. Less resolutely, she added, “but mark my words, I’ll be doin’ no favors for thieves after that.”

Fin.