Cherri

"You're getting old, cousin." A soft feminine voice intruded upon his thoughts.

"How old are you now, thirty eight, thirty nine? Your youth is gone, Targos."

The woman sitting next to him on the bench casually addressed him. Her wind burnt skin adorned with all manner of tattoos, all of which he recognized.

"You're no kin of mine." He told her coldly.

"Harsh words. I wonder, where did it all go wrong?" She leaned back, crossing her legs. He ignored the way her tattoos accentuated her tanned thighs.

He ignored her, taking a few sips of his morning coffee before replying. "It's funny, you hide your guilt and act like a saint."

"What do you mean?" He felt her eyes on him, studying, but he payed it no attention.

"You were there when they told me to 'Stay away and fix my brain.'" He told her, taking another swig of his coffee.

"It's not our fault. You should have been more like us. Like you once were." She told him

"I won't be like you." he replied.

"Why?" He could hear the curiosity in her voice.

"I won't be like you, because you make me sick."

There was an uncomfortable silence after that. Neither willing to look at each other. He decided to look at the sky instead, maybe he'd find something interesting in the artificial clouds Cronoa had created.

"It doesn't have to be this way." She told him. "We're all that's left, Targos, the Tribe-"

"The Tribe is dead, and needs to stay dead." He interrupted her.

She tried a different approach. "Targos, you're smart, brilliant even, with my strength and your intelligence? Think of the children we'd make."

He finally looked at her, her tan face, her red tattoos similar to his, only horizontal denoting a female member, the black tattoos traveling down her neck and covering her entire body, before finally resting on her unmarked left arm.

"Why do you keep bothering me, if you're that desperate, why don't you find someone else." He snapped at her.

"Because they wouldn't be you." She replied.

He didn't have an answer for that.

"It will never happen." He told her.

"It will, even if I have to use the old marriage rite." He scowled at that.

"You seem so sure, as you are now you have no hope of ever beating me." He couldn't help the disdainful sneer stretching across his lips. Her confidence was bugging him more than it should.

"For now." She told him smugly.

He stood up from the bench, casting his half full drink aside. He reached into a pouch at his side pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one up he took a few calming drags before trying to reply.

"I'm leaving, I don't want to see you again." He told her, walking away.

"Don't worry, I'll find you. See you soon cousin."

As he walked away he could only think one thing. It kept running through his mind, over and over again. " Cherri. She should have stayed dead..."