‘Giving me a spoon and napkin is a
‘Giving me a spoon and napkin is a nice gesture,” B thought.
‘Makes me seem more human, more like one of them, I guess. Good to know I haven’t forgot how to use one.’ She actually found some satisfaction in that reflection. Truthfully, she wanted to return to the habit of using her fingers to hastily shovel food into her mouth. She scraped at the crusted bits in the corner of her warmed-over meal tray. It was the first truly filling meal that she had gotten her hands on in a while, but she was finding it hard to stomach. Too much salt, too rich; she grimaced at the thought of needing to relieve herself several times that night. Unseasoned, small game does not make the body accustomed to rich gravy and preservatives.
She looked up from the log towards the direction of the campsite as she heard someone approaching. It was a female, B assumed, from the slight steps and silhouette. When she entered the light from the fire, B noticed her pristine uniform, how it hugged her healthy body. Perhaps she did like the gravy?
“I was hoping you could tell me more about yourself, “ the woman said politely, taking a seat on the log beside B. “It’s just that we weren’t expecting to find anyone at the clearing site,” she finished meekly. B wondered what her position with the Counsel actually was.
“What is it that you want to know? There’s not much of a story. I just ended up here. I never stay in one place for too long, “ B answered cautiously, making a conscious effort not to spit food on the nice lady.
The woman looked back in the direction of the campsite nervously.
“Look, my name is Terry. They didn’t send me out here to interrogate you. I came to talk to you myself. Being from the colonies, I’ve never met anyone who lived here. I’m sure you know…” she had to choose her words carefully. “You’re a rarity.”