III.

The planetary axis has shifted again and I am sweating profusely. I wipe my face along the sleeves of my tunic, then roll them up all the way to my shoulders.

As I approach the final bend before home, a rustling erupts in the hedges to my right. I startle and jump aside.

Then comes the snarling, and I can’t help but smile. She has taken to those hedges lately; I suppose they give her a good view of the road.

“Jerry,” I call gently, approaching the dense shrub. “Jerry, it’s me.”

For a moment all is quiet. Then the snarling begins anew, closer now.

“Je-e-e-erry,” I chime. “Come here, girl. Come to daddy.”

The snarl eases into a reluctant growl, and at last she steps out from behind the hedges, barefoot, the nightgown she left in mud-stained beyond recognition.

“Your hair,” I say, quite alarmed. “It’s all knots and tangles. Here, let me help you with that.” I pull a small wooden brush from my tunic and hold it out. “See? This used to be your favourite. You wouldn’t go to bed until Mama or I brushed you first.”

She hesitates a moment, her eyes narrowing upon the brush; her tongue flicks rapidly across her lips. But it’s no use—she won’t be swayed. She darts back a step and studies me with suspicion.

“Please, hon,” I say, pressing a hand absently to the hole in my chest. “How long can you go on like this? Just… come home. We miss you.”

She bares her tobacco-stained teeth and lets out a long, wet hiss.

“Fine,” I say. “Fine. But at least stay off the road. Someone might see you.”

She circles me on all fours, sniffing the air between us. There is something about her movements tonight, and I feel as if we are making progress.

And just then she turns and slips back into the hedges.

“The door is always open!” I call after her.

But she’s already gone.