Windchaser watched him roll his eyes at the mention of his white girl fetish. Perhaps her boy was beginning to grow up a little. She remembered them all and she knew why, or thought she did, it had been an attempt to grab for the American life he had been unwittingly dragged into by his father. She knew not only from the conversations they had had but the beatings he had received. Unbeknownst to him, she had cried for him after each instance.
Windchaser smiled at the sound of his laughter. She hadn’t heard it in too long and, in spite of everything it lifted her spirits. It made her smile even as she collapsed inside. He was leaving, again, even though he knew. It was something else to torture herself about. Had she made the wrong decision again?
Windchaser laughed softly at the idea of Rosa, so much loved, feeling like she was looking down on them then. In handing back the rosary, she almost felt like she was handing Alle his protection back. “I wonder what she’d think of this?”
Windchaser closed her eyes as he kissed her, trying to sketch it in her mind, to hold it as she had the last one, burying her head in his neck to breathe him in as he hugged her. “How come I only get to kiss you when I’m about to lose you?” She asked him softly, touching his face, trying not to cry.
In a moment of thought she reached down, pulling an ornate knife from her boot. “One of a pair, I’m going to keep hold of the other, useful in the job…not that that matters, it’ll help you keep safe, being a drifter isn’t easy.” Her face crumpled, but she held it in, she was stronger than that now. “Remember what I said to you…even if we never see each other again…I’m with you, as Ellie and as Windchaser, whoever you decide you are, you’ll always be the sexy, weird, cool kid to me.”