Alia’s giggles cut off in a low gasp; Daline froze, and she stared down at the little girl pinned beneath her. They’d abandoned dolls and playing dress-up in favor of this tussling, but if she’d hurt her, it would be too easy to hurt her—
“Whassat?” Alia reached for the silver pendant at Daline’s throat. Daline strained away from those chubby fingers.
“It’s not for children.” Alia’s eyes darkened and her mouth drew into a hard line. She squirmed out of Daline’s grasp and threw herself at the woman’s neck. Daline retreated, crawling on all fours across the toy-strewn ground. Alia’s face wrinkled and reddened; her hands balled into fists. Alia pulled, hard, on her own blonde hair. The child opened her mouth to shriek, and panic bloomed in Daline’s chest. She glanced at the door.
“If I take it off, I’ll have to leave. Do—do you want to hear a story?” The burgeoning tantrum disappeared beneath a smile and the brightening of those blue eyes. Alia settled on Daline’s lap. She watched the movement of Daline’s hands as the woman spoke.
“You know about the guards? They take care of you, right, like your... da? In the city. You know about the runners?” Alia’s hair tickled Daline’s chin when the girl shook her head. Daline pursed her lips. “The runners are like the guards, but outside the city. They’re really, really good at pretend.” She touched the child-sized hat on her own head. “Pretending like it’s—dress-up. They find the monsters, and they bring them to the city so the guards can take care of them.” She picked up a wooden sword. “They don’t have weapons, they don’t get training, and they—running is all they have. All they can have. If they get eaten, that’s it. They knew what they were doing when they signed up.” Daline rested her cheek against Alia’s head. She inhaled the baby scent. “The guards have to protect the city, but we can’t trade or even chop wood if someone is going to eat us!” She tensed her fingers into the shape of claws and plunged them against the girl’s ribcage; Alia rewarded her with a ticklish shriek. Daline jumped when the door swung open. The woman standing in the doorway wore an expression of panic that faded into a glare.
“That’s enough,” she said. “Nanny has to go.” Both women remained silent while they endured Alia’s screams; Daline did not react when the other woman pried the child away. The woman escorted Daline, in silence, to the door. Daline studied her. Her eyes lit on features that mirrored her own: blonde hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones visible in the plump face. She moved to speak, and the woman shut the door in her face. Daline stared at the painted wood, and then she looked up at the house her runner money bought. Her fingers tensed; her fingernails split her fingers open as they slid out into claws. She locked her wolf hands around her pendant and savored the burn.
“Daline?” The claws vanished, though the blood did not. Daline turned to look up at a man as vast as an oak tree.
“Henrik. I was with my—I mean, I—”
“I know. Me too.” The runners took solace in each other for just a moment. Then, in silence, they started across the city to their barracks.
“Whassat?” Alia reached for the silver pendant at Daline’s throat. Daline strained away from those chubby fingers.
“It’s not for children.” Alia’s eyes darkened and her mouth drew into a hard line. She squirmed out of Daline’s grasp and threw herself at the woman’s neck. Daline retreated, crawling on all fours across the toy-strewn ground. Alia’s face wrinkled and reddened; her hands balled into fists. Alia pulled, hard, on her own blonde hair. The child opened her mouth to shriek, and panic bloomed in Daline’s chest. She glanced at the door.
“If I take it off, I’ll have to leave. Do—do you want to hear a story?” The burgeoning tantrum disappeared beneath a smile and the brightening of those blue eyes. Alia settled on Daline’s lap. She watched the movement of Daline’s hands as the woman spoke.
“You know about the guards? They take care of you, right, like your... da? In the city. You know about the runners?” Alia’s hair tickled Daline’s chin when the girl shook her head. Daline pursed her lips. “The runners are like the guards, but outside the city. They’re really, really good at pretend.” She touched the child-sized hat on her own head. “Pretending like it’s—dress-up. They find the monsters, and they bring them to the city so the guards can take care of them.” She picked up a wooden sword. “They don’t have weapons, they don’t get training, and they—running is all they have. All they can have. If they get eaten, that’s it. They knew what they were doing when they signed up.” Daline rested her cheek against Alia’s head. She inhaled the baby scent. “The guards have to protect the city, but we can’t trade or even chop wood if someone is going to eat us!” She tensed her fingers into the shape of claws and plunged them against the girl’s ribcage; Alia rewarded her with a ticklish shriek. Daline jumped when the door swung open. The woman standing in the doorway wore an expression of panic that faded into a glare.
“That’s enough,” she said. “Nanny has to go.” Both women remained silent while they endured Alia’s screams; Daline did not react when the other woman pried the child away. The woman escorted Daline, in silence, to the door. Daline studied her. Her eyes lit on features that mirrored her own: blonde hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones visible in the plump face. She moved to speak, and the woman shut the door in her face. Daline stared at the painted wood, and then she looked up at the house her runner money bought. Her fingers tensed; her fingernails split her fingers open as they slid out into claws. She locked her wolf hands around her pendant and savored the burn.
“Daline?” The claws vanished, though the blood did not. Daline turned to look up at a man as vast as an oak tree.
“Henrik. I was with my—I mean, I—”
“I know. Me too.” The runners took solace in each other for just a moment. Then, in silence, they started across the city to their barracks.
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