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Date Posted: 19:17:08 07/08/04 Thu
Author: Briar
Subject: � b o y s d o n ' t c r y
In reply to: Clive 's message, ".End." on 22:36:47 07/07/04 Wed

� Clive�s last words hit him with a surprise like getting slugged in the gut with a sledgehammer. Proud? He�d never made anyone proud before. He�d never had anybody to make proud.

� There was a gap, a delay between the life leaving the Drifter and when his shoulders began to shake with a terrible sort of grief, a despairing of all the days events, one so great it threatened to consume him entirely. Tears he�d thought he�d run out of as a child slipped down his face, creating wet, quivering tracks through dirt and blood. Briar didn�t care what he looked like, though there was no one to watch. A another sob wracked a body far too thin from hunger, and the salty water coming from his eyes mixed with saliva and slipped off his chin. The tortured whimpers reoccurring every some seconds would have made a hardened soldier wince and turn away.

� The boy felt numerous gazes fall on him and the corpse beneath him, the beady black eyes of the gathering scavengers. A rage lit inside him, uncontrollable and furious. Those spiteful flying beasts saw Clive as nothing more than another carcass, a meal, not for what he was. Not for a respectable, caring man, not for a father and husband, but as a corpse.

� Setting his jaw determinedly, he scrambled forward, half standing and half crawling, and lunged for the nearest one. He hit the ground and cried out, pain rocketing through him. The closest of them hopped back, and one tilted a head, cawing mockingly.

�See? Caw, caw, can�t catch a bird. See, see? Can�t catch a bird, can�t catch a bird. Caw, couldn�t save him, save him, could you? Couldn�t save him, can�t catch a bird, a bird, caw.�

� The words, creations of his own mind, drove him into a frenzy, one so animalistic, the scavengers even recognized it as madness, and recklessly took flight. Briar�s fingers found a smooth, rounded stone and he threw blindly, and out of anger. By chance, the small rock struck a slower bird, and it let out a pained squawk, flapping the struck wing several times, before holding it at an awkward angle from its body. The boy felt a savage satisfaction at not only hitting the animal, but crippling it, and it showed in his face.

�Stupid crow.�

� And then, just as quickly as the vicious anger had struck him, it fled, leaving the thief even more alone and hopeless that he had before. He felt�empty. Cold. Like ice had replaced his insides. He didn�t like that feeling, one too much like death.

� He raised his head again, and glared at the bird. It simply blinked at him, but this time, Briar was looking into it�s eyes. Not into them, past them, and suddenly, a sort of understanding passed between them. Both wanted nothing more than a full belly. Both wanted nothing more than a decent place to sleep. Both wanted nothing more than to simply live. And Briar had hurt him�she�it, for something he hadn�t taken the time comprehend.

� He shut his mind to anything to do with Clive. He would not live if he reflected on the Drifter�s death, nor if stopped to question how he was alive and the other man not, nor what had become of Lily. There would be time for that later�if there was a later.

� He glanced at the bird, who hopped to the side a bit, and squawked.

�Damn.�

�

� It took everything he had to keep from screaming. It took even more to keep from lying down and giving up.

� Briar took another, badly limping step, and nearly collapsed at the half-stride�s weight he put on his bad leg. The thing had been badly fractured in several places, and walking on it was only making it worse�far worse. The bone had actually split in one place, and threatened to burst out of the skin of his calve with every stagger he took. It was improbable now that it would ever heal decently. Sweat poured down his face and drenched his clothes from the exertion, but blood flowed even heavier. The wound had opened farther, and every time he lurched forward, more spilled from his chest. If he should have been dead before, he should have been it twice by now.

� Each breath was ragged, a raspy harsh pull down his raw throat, and he cradled the injured bird in one arm. Something wouldn�t let him leave it.

� He miss-stepped, his ankle turned, and he hit the ground hard. His breath was forced from his lungs, and he still let out a noise like that of a dog being kicked forcefully in the ribs. The boy was hurting, bad. The crow let out protesting caw at being crushed, but Briar was slow to push himself off the bird and onto his back, and his breathing steadied. God, it felt so good to just lie there in the dirt.

�That�s where you belong after all, you no good son of a bitch.�

� The voice of his mother pierced his thoughts like a cold knife, but the boy lacked the will to wince or reply. What was the point? It was true.

� The crow attempted to fly, and only managed a feeble hop off the ground, it�s broken wing flapping uselessly. Briar, from the corner of a mostly closed eye, watched its hopeless efforts without sympathy. Defeat had swallowed him and consumed the light from his eyes.

��S a waste of time, you know.�

� It returned to gazing at him, and tilted its head, no longer in a scornful manner, but a questioning one, and something tugged him from the misery enough to listen.

�Don�t you look at me like that, you piece of shit.�

� It blinked.

�Great. Conversations with a god-forsaken bird.�

� Briar groaned, and struggled to sit up. How he wished to just give up. But the something inside wouldn�t let him. He could give up on himself, yes�why not, when so many others had? But he wouldn�t give up on the injured crow. Somehow, he fixated on this idea. He�d inflicted the damage on the bird, and he�d set it right again.

�You get back with that bag of feathers and then you can go lie in the mud somewhere and drown.�

� He�d pushed himself to his hands and his knees, and then his strength failed him. He couldn�t rise. Briar again wrapped one arm around the crow, and crawled several feet.

� He could barely breathe, let alone move. The agony had returned as soon as he�d made to move. He was bleeding badly again. His eyes were dark, empty, lifeless. But Briar closed his mind to the world, to the animal he carried, and to himself. He would go until he was dragging himself on his belly. Till he reached out with an arm to pull himself forward, and never did. He bit down, through his lower lip, and somewhere, there was a fire in his gray-green eyes. A will to live�but not his.

�He would make it back. Even if the trip.

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Replies:

>Wolf< -- Huttser, 22:01:59 07/08/04 Thu
- � b o y s nbsp; d o n ' t nbsp; c r y -- Briar, 05:37:10 07/09/04 Fri
  - Not Every Rose Has Thorns -- Sadie Rose, 19:30:21 07/11/04 Sun
    - � b o y s d o n ' t c r y -- Briar, 16:29:06 07/17/04 Sat
      - >Wolf< -- Huttser, 20:02:25 07/21/04 Wed
        Not Every Rose Has Thorns -- Sadie Rose, 18:37:01 07/24/04 Sat
        � boys don't cry -- Briar, 18:25:21 08/15/04 Sun
        <shinigami> -- Lily / company, 19:36:19 08/15/04 Sun
        Not Every Rose Has Thorns -- Sadie Rose, 18:50:04 10/05/04 Tue
        Break You Now -- Briar, 18:45:13 10/06/04 Wed
        e m p t y -- Kaen, 13:09:47 10/07/04 Thu
        >Wolf< -- Huttser, 18:25:00 10/14/04 Thu
        Just Bend the Pieces Till They Fit -- Briar, 19:11:41 10/14/04 Thu
        e m p t y -- Kaen, 18:45:05 11/06/04 Sat