This human is not talkative.
At first, I thought I liked it. Walking with her was a little like being alone in the woods. Except, I realized that was foolish because I wasconstantlyaware of her. I walk slowly to make sure she is able to keep up with me. I wonder if she is getting tired because the pace I’m setting is still too fast, and she simply does not complain.
But whether I slow down or go faster, she matches me exactly.
I frown, wondering what she is thinking. So then I try to listen to her breathing and eventually land on a pace that does not seem to have her breathing too heavily.
I know that if I were with Hannah, she would be very vocal about her discomfort, but I have the feeling this one would continue in silence even if her limbs were burning.
At hour three, I decide to do something entirely novel and ask. “Do you need to rest?”
She seems startled that I’m breaking the silence. “Do you want to rest?”
I blink back at her. “I am asking you. You are the human.”
She stiffens. “I’m keeping up just fine.”
“I did not say you weren’t. But what do you want? Do you want to rest?”
She stays silent for a long moment. “I—” But then she breaks off as soon as she begins and is silent again. Finally, she picks back up. “Well, maybe I should stretch some, then we can continue.”
I nod.
She leans over and begins to stretch. Strange positions I haven’t seen humans contort their bodies into before. But then, besides Hannah, I have not been around humans in a very long time. She stands on one leg and grabs the other, bending it behind her in a graceful move.
“Your name,” she says, surprising me by talking. “Why haven’t you changed it?”
I blink, surprised by this question she’s asked. “It is my name, given by my Creator-Father.”
“He sounds like a dick.”
I frown, not following. Sometimes this happens with Hannah when she uses words that mean different things in modern language than before.
“If he wasn’t nice when he gave you a name, you should choose your own name.”
I frown further. “Can you do that?”
She laughs, and I like the sound. “Of course you can. It’s your life. Yourname. You can be whatever you want to be. Whoever you want to be.”
Hmm. “I will think about it. I have been Thing for a very long time.”
She nods at that, finally standing up from stretching.
“You have not told me your name.”
Her gaze, always averted, moves towards the forest. We are staying beside the frozen river, the forest off to our right. She is so quiet that if I did not have the excellent hearing I do, I might have missed her next words. “My name’s Ksenia.”
Ksenia. A beautiful name for a beautiful person.
“It is a good name,” I say.
She nods but seems distracted.
“That’s a Slavic name, yes?” I ask, hoping she’ll divulge more about where she is from and how she got here.
But she ignores me and just starts walking again. “Who’s Angel?”
I sputter a little as I start walking again, easily catching up with her short legs. “What do you mean?”
