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"So you're saying what, exactly? Amelita looks all dried up like her moms?"

"Mama, stop..." Christmas buried her head in her hands, too tired to sigh. They sat around one of the mismatched tables spilling from the block's worst tavern. The place which consisted of an al fresco sprawl of wrecked furniture surrounding a shack whose clientele had long outgrown it. Out here the jars of quick-rum glimmered in barfly's hands like treasure under the coloured lanterns and brash laughter erupted from the clusters where roadmen held court. Christmas' mom insisted on dragging her along to these places and scolded her for going to them alone. This time Christmas had taken a boy from the block along--as nominally agreed upon per a series of gruelling negotiations. That boy now stared at Christmas Senior, wearing a frozen idiot's grin which the rest of his face wanted no part of.

"Who? Oh. Uh, no. No... Just–you look young. That's why you both look like sisters. That's seriously all I meant by it... Ms, um, Christmas."

"I'm suppose to take my pants off now, on account of how 'young' you said I look?" The older woman scoffed. She elbowed a quiet man sat beside her. "Rolf. He don't think I'm with you."

The man sat next to Christmas Senior mmm'd with an automaton's indignation. The better-you-than-me flavour pity on his face became an unspoken plea. Rolf was one of the meek types whom mom tended to fall in with between the guys who had presence enough to make her furious or miserable. The things that had most defined him to young Christmas were how he shot worse than her and that people had said he'd been one of Mayor Wiley's cops once upon a time. She liked him well enough. Mom's victim stood up and backed off.

"Yeah, ok, whatever. You got me. Not worth it, I'm out... See you round, Christmas." Her suitor muttered, shuffling off. Christmas Junior sat quivering with rage.

"Ok. Fuck–" Christmas felt her mother backhand her and the brakes came on before 'Off, Mom!' could come out. She glared at her mom, who responded by rolling her eyes and passing her daughter the blunt she'd been hogging.

"You want a little boy taking care of you, Amelita? Now you see what he's like. He can't look after you." Mom smiled, as though scaring him away had vindicated her. Christmas seethed and blew restless smoke rings up at the sky. She narrowed her eyes and broke the silence with an old argument pulled from the fire.

"...Ok, cool. So maybe I go hang out over where Alpha Crew hangs out and see who's interested. Go be like you," Christmas goaded. Her mother rose slowly, eyes burning with danger. Christmas ignored the warning and continued in a bimbo voice from one of the pre-shit records that mom had brought home.

"Maybe I can get knocked up on the road. Or I get myself killed and really outdo you." Christmas thrust her hips out in a practiced parody of promiscuity, daring her mother to stop her.

Christmas Senior responded by lunging at her daughter like a viper, drenching the ground with bad rum. Amelita caught her mother and span her through a rickety table, spitting curses and splinters as the pair traded blows. An audience formed around them as they fought in the dirt and the glass. Rolf took the joint burning in the bowl and stepped out into the street, where he would resolve to leave Bakersfield without telling anybody.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:26, Thu 18 June 2015.

"No, honey, no. Like this, see?"

Yollie watched as Papa took the small bow he had carved for her in one hand and the string in the other.

"It needs to be tighter. That way the arrow can fly far, like the eagle. If we do it like this, it will fly about as far as a fish." He gave her a wink and began to string the bow.

Yollie giggled as she sat on the ground nearby, watching intently. At six years old, she was finally a big girl and Papa had told her that today was to be her first hunt.

"There." With the small bow properly strung, he handed Yollie one arrow - again which "they" had carved together. In actuality, Yollie watched - stuck to her grandfather's side like a shadow - while he carved the arrow and told her stories about the old days. She sat and listened, her imagination burning brightly with the wonders of the old world he described and embellished.

She liked his stories - at least until just before they ended. Most of the time they always ended sad and she didn't like that. Truth be told, she didn't care about Adam or the bombs he made. She was sad that he made them, and even sadder that they hurt so many people, but she was focused on more pressing matters such as what tree she should climb or how many apples she could eat before getting sick.

"You know what we have to do now, right?"

"We gotta hunt!"

"You know what that means, right?"

Yollie looked at him quizzically. Of course she knew what it meant! They had to go catch a critter, then ask it to give them its meat. Then let it go.

"Yes, Papa. We gotta go get food from a critter. I'm not five anymore. I know big people things now."

Papa smiled and handed her the bow.

***

Tears streamed from Yollie's eyes in rivers as she looked down at what she had done. She did exactly like Papa had showed her on the targets back home, but this time the target had been a bunny. A cute, innocent little bunny.

"Yolanda, why do you cry?" He asked sympathetically, his eyes hiding a sadness in being the avatar of his grand daughter's loss of innocence, but knowing the importance in the lesson.

"I... I hurt the little bunny and I didn't... I.." She struggled to finish her sentence through sniffles and more tears.

"I didn't know it would die," she sobbed, running into Papa's arms and trying to bury herself in them like the comfort blanket they were.

Papa held the little girl in his arms, consoling her as best he could. He, of course, had anticipated this moment and while he had dreaded it, he knew it must be. So, he let Yollie cry. When she had finally tired herself out, he spoke.

"Sometimes, people have to do things they don't want to do, sweetheart. It is the way of this world. I know you did not want to hurt this rabbit, but you had to. Do you know why?"

Yollie looked up at her Papa with big, teary brown eyes and shook her head.

"Because without knowing it, you were taking care of your family and your community. The rabbit sacrificed itself to you so that we could eat. It's body will nourish ours. It will no longer be tempted into our gardens to feast on our labors. And the cycle of life will continue. But we have to remember this rabbit; we have to remember its sacrifice and we have to remember that it chose to die so that we can live. In this way, we will always respect life and how precious it is."

Yollie didn't look completely convinced, but she wiped her nose and slowly stopped her sniffles.

"How do you know it wanted to help us?" She asked as she looked back down at it.

"Because it let you hit it with your arrow."

"And it would've moved out of the way if it didn't want to help us?"

"Of course. Wouldn't you?"

Yollie considered it for a moment. "Yeah."

Papa smiled. "Everything has a purpose, Yolanda. Everything exists for a reason and everything eventually dies. This is the natural order of things and when it happens we shouldn't be sad. We should celebrate the life that was. Now, let's get back home before your momma yells at me for keeping you out too late."

With that, Papa and his loyal-shadow Yollie grabbed the rabbit and walked back to East Highland Hills.