It had taken Danielle many hours to release herself, a success owed more to the age of her bindings than any great skill. She owned so little that had not been scavenged from the sea and that which she had made herself bore all the failings of a self-taught survivalist. One who was still alive, no doubt, but constantly reinventing the wheel nonetheless.
Danielle hefted the last bag and took a final glance at the place she had called home. It was not the only shack to be so named, but of them all this had been the most comfortable.. until they had stripped it of most things useful. Now it was an empty shell, even the broken chair stripped down and used for firewood the previous night. Her small collection of pots and pans had already been removed, too precious to abandon, their metallic clanking muffled by layer upon layer of leaves. The shelves of which she had been so proud would have to stay though; perhaps the local wildlife would give them new purpose this spring.
Rope burn grated against the rough dressings she'd applied, reminding her that it was time to apply another poultice, but there was no time. That man may have left, chasing after the other - the one so strangely dressed - however he knew where she lived and only a rainstorm would obliterate their trail to and from her home. It would not be long before others sought her out, perhaps not the Others, but unwelcome all the same.
Voices carried through the air as the Frenchwoman slipped away, automatically changing direction to avoid their path. That another of her traps had been sprung was small consolation - more would have to be built soon, essential work that took more time and energy than she had at present - but it confirmed her suspicions.
"No one is home right now," she heard, wondering how many more of these newcomers were not as they appeared. The island was becoming crowded these days, upsetting the balance Danielle had worked so hard to understand. They had no respect for this place, but then few had died as yet.. few had been taken. Perhaps they would achieve their goal to escape, one day far in the future, however Danielle had had similar ambitions once upon a time. She wanted no part of their false hope, not with so little left for herself.
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timeasmymeasure
[Danielle]
Date: 2006-09-06 11:26 am (UTC)Danielle hefted the last bag and took a final glance at the place she had called home. It was not the only shack to be so named, but of them all this had been the most comfortable.. until they had stripped it of most things useful. Now it was an empty shell, even the broken chair stripped down and used for firewood the previous night. Her small collection of pots and pans had already been removed, too precious to abandon, their metallic clanking muffled by layer upon layer of leaves. The shelves of which she had been so proud would have to stay though; perhaps the local wildlife would give them new purpose this spring.
Rope burn grated against the rough dressings she'd applied, reminding her that it was time to apply another poultice, but there was no time. That man may have left, chasing after the other - the one so strangely dressed - however he knew where she lived and only a rainstorm would obliterate their trail to and from her home. It would not be long before others sought her out, perhaps not the Others, but unwelcome all the same.
Voices carried through the air as the Frenchwoman slipped away, automatically changing direction to avoid their path. That another of her traps had been sprung was small consolation - more would have to be built soon, essential work that took more time and energy than she had at present - but it confirmed her suspicions.
"No one is home right now," she heard, wondering how many more of these newcomers were not as they appeared. The island was becoming crowded these days, upsetting the balance Danielle had worked so hard to understand. They had no respect for this place, but then few had died as yet.. few had been taken. Perhaps they would achieve their goal to escape, one day far in the future, however Danielle had had similar ambitions once upon a time. She wanted no part of their false hope, not with so little left for herself.