The Road Goes Ever On {Kay/blitz)

Oh life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no,
not even grey when she buries her baby

Winter. It was hard in the wilderness, much harder than it had been in the districts. Of course, Victory had endured worse. She thought of that during the long cold nights, during the days she spent wandering without food. The winter kept things hidden, encouraged them to disappear. But here she was, surviving in spite of herself, circling the woods endlessly. When would her body finally realize that its life force had left years ago?

She was shivering so hard that at first she didn't even realize the light she was heading towards wasn't the coming of sunrise. No. It was something else, much smaller, but infinitely more useful: a fire. It was one of those nights that she should have stayed in her shelter, under the huge roots of an old tree, huddled against the trunk to stay warm. But she hadn't. She had risked the cold's kiss, welcomed death as she always did, and instead, she found fire.

Victory stopped, a twig snapped, and then: she screamed. Rage, and despair, and hatred towards her own determined body. The scream died, her nose ran, and she wiped at it as she came into the light of the fire. "Alone?" She croaked, broad eyes sweeping the area.

Oh life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no,
not even grey when she buries her baby

Victory holds the dark wool blanket closer as the scene comes slowly into focus. After so long in the darkness, it is difficult for her eyes to adjust to the brilliance of the fire. But then she sees it in all its glory, recognizes the figure of a man in a hat, not a Peacekeeper. She steps forward into the glow's domain, her hands still gnarled around the blanket at her neck.

Alone.

There was no better word to define her. "Always," she said, voice still raspy, graveled with disuse. She took another step forward, watching him, waiting for him to move for a weapon or to shoo her away. "Yours?" Victory asked, throwing her elbow towards the fire. She cared not at all that he had asked her not to scare people. Who would be afraid of her, after all? She had nothing, she was nothing. No one.