FOUR

FOUR

 

The plains stretch out in a brown-grey haze before him.  Annabelle sleeps fitfully in his arms, her dreams tormented by all she had seen this day.  The stone man is anxious to keep moving and get as far away as possible from the black column of smoke stretching its greedy fingers into the sky behind him.  The stone man doesn’t know where he is going, the only way he knows is away, away.  He supposes that eventually he will encounter others, and when that happens he prays that it is not more of the army he is rushing to leave far behind.  He needs to find someone to help Annabelle, someone human and who knows what the small being in his arms would need.  And so in spite of his choking fear and confusion he walks on, pretending to be unfazed to avoid distressing her further. 

Annabelle moans gently and begins to shiver.  The stone man pauses and examines her closely.  Her small round face is pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, strands of her long black hair sticking to her clammy cheeks.  Her lips, at first so full and red, look almost shriveled in their paleness.  Small spasms twitch her brow and the corners of her lips.  The stone man begins to worry that there is seriously wrong with her, that she is ill and in trouble in a way that he cannot protect her from.  Fear stirs anew in his chest.  He clutches her small soft form closer to his chest and begins to hurry.

For a time his thoughts are preoccupied with Annabelle, and finding her a village full of people who can help her.  But as the miles stretch on and the black smoke shrinks into a smudge on the horizon his mind turns to other things: the shattered tower room, his strange and sparkling stone skin, how he knows things, just knows them without realizing until much later that there is no way he could know such things, know anything really.  He is aware of no memories of anything beyond that broken wall and charred remains of someone unknown, and yet he not only knows what speech is, but can speak, and knows an entire language with seemingly complete fluency.  He knows how to walk, to run, and to fight.  And the stone man (perhaps he should name himself, or use Annabelle’s name, “Berk”) has no idea how he could know that.  Aimlessly, and with growing concern, the stone man begins to wonder where he came from , who made him, and to what purpose he had been made.  Thoughts and questions buzz and sting him.

In his arms Annabelle’s shivering intensifies and it occurs to the stone man that perhaps it isn’t just fear making her shake, but cold.  The stone man’s stone skin is many things, but it is not able to sense heat or cold or real pain.  He knows, that mysterious way that he knows many things, that he has to get her warmed up, needs to find her a blanket or coat, or something�"anything�"warm.