Free Dark Feather: A Dark Post Apocalyptic Romance by Alta Hensley Page A

hair that hung loose in my face. “Why do you hate me so much? Is it just because I’m a Penna? Or is it because I am a woman and a better soldier than you can be any day?”
    Oakes crossed his arms against his chest and laughed loudly. “That really is funny. I could squash you, little girl. I wouldn’t even break a sweat doing so.”
    “Then why don’t you try? What holds you back?” I taunted. It was true that Oakes could crush me in a hand-to-hand battle, but I would damn sure put up a fight.
    “Well, for one, Rigby has ordered all hands off you. And as much as I would love to teach you a lesson, I do follow my commander’s orders. Plus, Rigby happens to be a good friend of mine. So even though I think he’s lost his mind keeping you around, I respect his decision.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the next while he sized me up from head to toe. “And second, I like watching you. You fascinate me.”
    “What?” I snapped. “What the hell do you mean; I fascinate you ?”
    “So tell me. How did you get those feathers?” he asked, glancing at my exposed wrist.
    I could have told him to go fuck himself and leave me alone, but why bother? He wouldn’t leave, and I had nothing to hide. Plus, knowing Oakes, he would probably like knowing he was upsetting me. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I was injected with cDermo-1 as a child and they grew over time.”
    “Do they really keep you warm?” Oakes seemed genuine in his question, nor did I pick up on any hate or judgment.
    “They do. I think that the chemicals in my bloodstream keep me warmer than the actual feathers do. It’s not like feathers cover my entire body.”
    “Do they hurt? Or can you feel them in your skin?”
    “No. They feel the same as the hair on your head. It hurt when I tried to pluck one out to see if the feather would grow back.” The memory of how I’d hoped I could pluck them out of me and be free of the deformity forever filled me with a renewed shame of what I hated so very much.
    “And did it? Grow back?” Oakes actually seemed nice—even likeable.
    “It grew back,” I mumbled as I looked down at my feet.
    “You’re lucky to have them.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “But you are. You have no idea the cold that we feel.” He kicked a pile of snow in front of him. “My toes ache from several cases of frostbite, my bones creak when I bend because surely I have frozen every part of my body at some point in my life. I am never truly warm. I live a life of constant cold, and my only hope is to make it tolerable with the layers of clothing I wear. I hate you fucking Penna for so many reasons, but I will give your kind one bit of credit. You were smart with the feathers. Other Cyans may not agree with me, but I would take an injection of that dermo crap you just described any day over the freezing cold I have to endure.”
    “I’ve never considered myself lucky,” I admitted.
    “Well, you are. You are alive, aren’t you?”
    “If you think the feathers are so great, then why do you call me a mutant?” I asked.
    “Because I can.” He gave a small smirk—or was it a smile? And with that last statement, Oakes turned on his heels and left me standing alone in the snow.
    Confused at first by Oakes’s visit, I eventually smiled when I realized that surprise exchange was his rough attempt at trying to make peace. It wasn’t exactly friendly, but it most certainly wasn’t hostile. I realized then, that that was the way Oakes was. Gruff. But regardless of how he said it, or how he acted, that was most definitely his awkward effort to connect with me.
    “Tudor?” a voice I did not recognize from behind questioned.
    Startled, I jumped to my feet, grabbing my sword. When I turned around with the blade, I saw what I assumed to be one of Rigby’s servants staring at me. The servant, a young girl, paled when she saw the sharp blade pointed directly at her throat.
    “I did not mean you any harm!” she