Blood, Bird, and Stone

Alone at camp, Lucy cramped and bled, making a new person, rabbit-soft in the grey light. It mewed at the thunder, but when lightning cracked, she saw its eyes – rabbit-fringed and dead. She lay down in the sodden ashes of the fire and wept. A little bird peeped, the one that always wanted berries. Farther. Nearer. Louder. Lucy rose, stumbling toward it, holding the new person. The bird peeped them into the hillside. Lucy took the new person’s hand, pressing blood and rain, tears and ash against the old stone. The bird peeped again. The new person gasped into life.

This is Part I of a serial story. Part II - Part III - Part IV.
Image: The Sciolist.