“I’m. . .” I clear my throat. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
“Exactly.” She’s nodding now. “We’re passing the Donner lake, the Donner party settlement, and then soon we’ll cross their pass, the place where they finally cut through the mountains. They left their homes too late, and they got caught in the snow on Halloween, and then they all died, alright? Everyone criticizes them, because the idiots should’ve left earlier.”
“Okay.” It feels like she’s building to something.
“But they were senseless, their deaths. Even though they were late, they could’ve headed backward to a meadow or something where they could have gathered some food or fed their animals instead of slaughtering them all. They could’ve done any number of things and not died the way they all did. But they were too stupid to do any of them. They thought they could catch a break in the snow and climb over the mountain range that was immovable, unchangeable, a force of nature. And I’m dumber than any of them, because I thought I could change you.” Now, as tears roll down her face, she slumps again.
I hate it.
Her next words are the barest of whispers. “Can’t you even try to find another way?” Her expression, her demeanor, it pains me.
I wish I had another answer for her, but I don’t. “There is no other way.”
“You’re an idiot, and I hate you.” She sinks back down into her funk.
I’m at a loss for how to help her out of it. For all I know, this is her natural state of being. Perhaps the fiery female I’ve seen before now was the anomaly. Perhaps this is the usual Whitney, and she’s finally returning to her normal situation.
But I don’t really believe that.
We haven’t driven long, an hour or a bit more, when she pulls off the road without warning.
“What are we doing?”
She points at the window. “It’s totally dark now, stupid.”
I don’t love her calling me stupid over and over. In fact, it makes me angry, and I’m rarely angry. “What does the state of the light have to do with your actions?”
“You want to get there early, like a desperate guy on a date?”
I blink.
“You were told to arrive at sunrise. You should show up later than that, to show them that you don’t have to follow their directions.”
“If you knew where this Fort Davis was all along, why didn’t we go there long before now? It’s clearly where the military leaders are located.”
“Please.” She snorts. “I didn’t want to help you, idiot. Or did you forget?”
“You didn’t seem to hate me earlier today. You were learning things. I was teaching you to use water and fire.”
“Then you murdered hundreds of humans, like you swore you wouldn’t.” She’s scowling.
I hate it.
“Whitney, you know this is what I do. You persist in calling it murder, but for humans that requires malicious intent. I have no desire to harm or destroy certain humans. My desire is to bring balance back, and that simply?—”
“That’s a lie. You want humans to die, and that’s all the intent required. Say you’re impartial, say it isn’t personal, but it is to them, and it is to me.” Her eyes flash.
“But my actions aren’t personal. I’m just pruning.”
“You’ve said.”
She’s quiet after that for a while, and I realize as she turns into a parking lot that we’ve reached another hotel. I like that idea. She was happy last time, when I made her a dress. She turned on a television show and told me to watch it. “Will we watch Gilmore Girls?”
She slams the car into park, and then turns sharply, her eyes flashing. “Why on earth would I do that with you? Hopefully they’ll have two rooms available, and I can spend at least a few hours apart from you.”
“I forbid it,” I say. “We will share a room.”
“No.” She looks ready to punch me on the nose. “I’ll never do that again. I’d rather die.”
