Rowan was the exception, and she didn’t really follow any rules. Zadie hated people, now, most all of them. Found them suspicious, or annoying, or just too simple-minded for the world that they now inhabited. She walked around like a ghost, most of the time, unable to keep up with their subtleties and nuances, unable to quiet the shrieking storm in her head to hold a conversation.
But Rowan was different. Maybe it was that they’d lived their whole lives together, moving in lock step around the valley. Maybe it was that Rowan never seemed to ask what had happened in the war, where she’d been, who she’d seen, how she’d survived. Maybe it was that the brunette didn’t look at her with pity.
Zadie sat on the edge of the armchair, oddly at ease with the threadbare fabric, the springs digging into her legs. For awhile, pain had meant that she was still alive. She still felt positive connotations to it.
Obediently, she waited for the cards to come out and placed her hands on them. Almost lovingly, her fingers ran over the weathered backs, the time-smoothed edges. She swallowed and shut her eyes.
“Will I–” She stopped. Hesitance. It wasn’t like her; every move she’d made during captivity had been intentional. Calculated. Hellbent on keeping her alive for the next day. Zadie shivered as the wind picked up. “What happened to Ollie?”
Rowan set the deck out for Zadie to touch, to reflect on the question. Her cousin settled on the arm rest of the chair, Rowe watching with a quiet deference. She knew Zadie almost as well as she knew herself. They grew up together, told each other secrets, cried and laughed the whole way. Rowe knew very little about what happened to her cousin in the war. Everything was secondhand. Captured. And there was Rowe, after the brief trauma of her failed leadership as a squad leader, sent to the back lines to train new recruits. A relatively comfortable post, considering.
Taking the cards into her hands, Rowan shuffled the deck. Then she placed three cards in front of them on the table, aiming with intent as each card was selected.
King of Cups. Ten of Swords. Six of Swords.
Rowan stared at the cards, speechless. Past, present, future. She could try and maneuver around the meaning, but there wouldn’t be any use. Zadie knew just as well as she did what it meant.
Past. “Balance, even in trying times.” Present. “Painful wounds.” Future. “Resistance to change.”
Her face fell, wilted. “What do you think?” she whispered.
