Shannon and Boone, for
yahtzee63 "Why shouldn't we consider it?"
Shannon’s sunburnt arms, held protectively before her ribs, formed a defensive barrier between them. She glowered at him--face as red as her arms; eyes naked without makeup and sunglasses--and scowled with the furious little-girl petulance Boone had always despised.
“Scavenging,” she spat, “hunting, *grave-digging!* They’re coming for us, Boone--they’re looking for us *right now,* and I won’t give up!”
Boone’s lips narrowed. ‘Look after your sister,’ mom had said, long ago; ‘be gentle with her.’ He was *trying,* but he couldn’t do both--couldn’t keep her safe and alive while being *nice.*
“Accepting reality doesn’t mean I’m giving up hope, Shannon.”
Shannon’s lips twisted. “That’s a change,” she said, turning away from him. “You’ve given up on everything else. You always have.”