The Prophet's Daughter by Kilayla Pilon Page A

sarcasm.
    “Just look at it fly, look at how free and alive it is,” I commented, locking my gaze on the soaring black creature.
    “It’s a vulture. It feeds off of death,” he said, looking at me with a condescending expression, eyebrow raised.
    “Oh, you know what, you’re just impossible!” I said, throwing my hands up. “I am trying to make you a little happier and here you are -”
    “Ari n, shush,” interrupted Isaac, eyes wide as he scanned our immediate surroundings.
    “Excuse me? I will not be shushed, not by you or by anyone!” I said, appalled that he would even think of telling me to be quiet.
    “Arin, shut up and listen,” he growled, and I opened my mouth to protest, but he glared at me, and the look in his eyes kept me silent. For a long moment, the only sound I could catch was the soft wind blowing through the tree. It wasn’t until I opened my mouth again to complain that I caught the sound of distant voices.
    “Did you see that guy back there? He'd just… Who could do that?”
    “He was infected, you…”
    “Yeah, but…” The voices trailed off before I could determine the gender of which they belonged to. Isaac and I stood silent, hands reaching for our weapons for a long few minutes afterward.
    “I think we’re good,” Isaac said.
    “Yeah?” I asked, glancing over at him.
    “Yeah,” he reassured, nodding his head and relaxing his stance.
    “Great, but I have a question,” I continued, taking a large step forwards and pivoting to look him in the eye, beginning to walk backwards. “Do you know what the infected are infected with?”
    “Some mutated form of the common cold, that’s really all I know. Dad said it’s this weird disease that can only pass in two ways – bodily fluids or like what happens if you eat your food and it’s not cooked right... Through bacteria, I think it’s called,” he paused and ran his fingers through his hair, smacking his lips together before he continued, “he said there were these groups of people; they would use it to kill people, poor people or sick people, they thought of them as vermin, even though they were just normal people without money to support themselves or heal themselves. Then it just mutated and... It doesn’t even sound real, right? But it is, I mean, we saw what it can do to people.” Isaac stopped and shook his head, closing his eyes.
    “They never did make or find a cure, did they?” I questioned, the understanding of my parents reasoning’s for why my mother and father always d anced around my questions about the disease. It just seemed too horrible – like something out of the stories they used to tell me when I was a kid. Except that the disease was real and my books with tales of vampires and trolls were not.
    “They tried, but n othing worked, as we already know. It just kills them and takes anyone else it can before then.”
    “I was attacked once, got attacked by some dog,” I mentioned, holding out my arm and pointing to a scar near my forearm.
    “Not everyone is going to get it the first time – are you sure the dog was infected?” Isaac said, holding my arm and inspecting the faded scar, eyebrows pulled together.
    “Yeah, it attacked someone else and they wound up really sick too – Mum knew what it was before he went insane, though,” I s aid, a shiver running down my spine. I had never seen my mother kill before, but watching her kill the poor man…
    “Let’s just hope I don’t get bitten again, I doubt I’ll be as lucky.”
    “How did you guys not notice the dog was infected?” Isaac asked, letting my arm go.
    “It wasn’t like your father, it didn’t seem sick, and next thing we knew it was attacking us.” I shrugged. “That was two years ago, anyway. I know better now.”
    “I didn’t think you didn’t,” he said in an attempt to defend himself. I just smiled and began walking, shifting the bags on my back – they were heavy.
    Again we walked in silence, shifting further