The Low Road (0/?)
The Low Road (0/?)
"You'll take the high road,
And I'll take the low road,
And I'll get to Scotland before ye,"
"Mauri, hush."
Mauri was singing softly under her breath, a faint Scottish brogue leaking into her diction. It was a song they'd heard that afternoon when they'd gone to a local pub for lunch, but Xander was surprised to hear the small African slayer sing it. It was the first sign he'd had that she was adjusting to her new home.
Mauri quieted down, focusing intently on the lines she was drawing with her nub of charcoal. Xander turned his eyes back to the moors in front of him.
The night was silent again.
The moon wasn't full, which Xander appreciated, considering the fact that he'd chosen to unwind the night before by watching "An American Werewolf in London". It was gibbous, or some other term like that, that Willow would know without thinking, but he'd never paid attention to, and waning. Tomorrow night, it, and the stars around it, would finally be in the position he needed-that Willow needed-to restore his eye.
The night was foggy and cool, putting a silver haze around the grin of the moon and blacking out the aligning stars, reducing the surrounding country side to vague, half-formed, black and gray blobs. Xander's heart ached slightly for the clear, vast night skies over the dark continent, where he'd spent much of the last year searching out slayers. They'd found all the girls they could before the old council's funds had run out, leaving the Scoobies somewhat trapped on the English countryside while Giles negotiated grants and private donations. Xander's group of African slayers had been the last to arrive, a week ago. The girls had dropped into their tiny cots immediately, while Xander had found himself sleepless most nights, surrounded by alien noises with only an old, black and white television and equally ancient VCR for company. Part of him was intrigued by how the lack of color had changed the familiar movies in the cottage's limited library.
How much creepier those movies became.
Xander pulled his hawaiian shirt over his body, a deliberate attempt to brighten the grey light of the overcast British August. It had made the girls laugh and had brought a rare smile to Giles' increasingly haggard face, so he deemed the effort a success; even in the cool night air, he refused to cover it with a dark jacket.
Mauri began to sing softly again, a keening lullaby in an unfamiliar language. Xander shivered, and murmured "Mauri," and she closed her mouth, but continued to hum.
"What's that you're drawing?" Xander leaned over Mauri's shoulder, knowing that she wasn't likely to answer him, or even to have consciously heard his question. Xander didn't have a great deal of experience with Autism, but had been traveling with the ten year old slayer for several weeks now, and had grown used to her silence. She, like the other slayers now living in the stone cottage, would not be able to make use of her new powers. She lived in her own mind, coming out only on rare occasion to acknowledge those who surrounded her.
That was what kept Xander up nights, and, he suspected, Giles as well. Most of the girls had been given a limited amount of training, several contact numbers, and a Slayer's Handbook, and been left to remain in her own home, to protect her area.
No one had suspected, last May, that there would be so many slayers who couldn't slay.
Other than Mauri, Xander, Giles and Willow watched over girls who were wheelchair bound, or deaf, or blind, or otherwise incapable of understanding and fulfilling their new role. The cottage's remote position provided some protection, as did the wards that Giles and Willow checked each morning, but being chosen had made the girls targets, and it was the Scoobies' responsibility, as the ones who called them, to make sure that they were safe.
Mauri shifted slightly, peering closely at the cottage in front of them, giving Xander a better view of her sketch. Drawing was one of the few things that the girl could do without becoming stressed, so when she had decided to venture outside, in the middle of the night, with her notebook and pencils, all Xander could do was follow.
She was rather amazingly good at it. She'd started at the top right corner of the page, and in the last ten minutes had already filled half of it with an almost photographic rendering of the cottage. Even the white areas, representing the dim lights shining in the windows through the fog, seemed to glow from the page.
"That's good, Mauri."
Mauri continued to hum, picking up her blending stick and smoothing out the rough lines on the paper.
"When you're done, we should go inside." Xander leaned back again, scanning the area and clutching his stake. "It's getting very late, and Willow is going to make omelettes in the morning."
Mauri loved omelettes. Her pencil started to move faster, and her hum dropped off as she concentrated more on her drawing.
Without warning, she stood, letting her pencils fall to the ground. She didn't glance at Xander as she started toward the door of the cottage. Xander hurried to follow.
"Can I see it?"
Mauri kept walking, the swing of her arm smearing a little of the charcoal across the still blank third of the page. Xander paced himself to be walking beside her and set a hand on her small shoulder. She glanced up at him, a faint frown coming over her features.
"It's just me, Mauri."
She nodded slightly, still frowning. Xander blinked, he hadn't really expected a response. She stopped, a few feet short of the door, and turned so that the porch light was at her back. She held up the drawing.
The detail and accuracy was even more amazing when viewed in the light. Xander crouched down beside her and placed a hand on the metal spiral of the notebook, waiting to see if she would let him take it.
Her grip remained solid, but she did shift the picture toward him slightly.
It was beautiful, though incomplete. Mauri had managed to capture the fog that blurred the outlines of the building, and even the individual blades of grass reflecting the light spilling from the windows. Xander smiled. "That's very good."
She didn't move, but continued to stare at the image. Xander glanced at her face, then followed the focus of her eyes back down the drawing.
She was looking at the dark rectangle of the door, with its mottled-glass window. More specifically, at the small square of light shining on the steps in front of the door.
In the square was the shadow of a person, pressing their hands against the glace.
Xander looked back up at the empty window in the door, then down at shadow. He turned to look at the door.
"Mauri."
The African slayer continued to gaze down at the drawing. He wasn't sure that she remembered he was there.
"Mauri, who's this?" Xander pointed to the shadow.
Mauri seemed to shudder back to life. She tucked the drawing back under her arm, turning back toward the door. Xander tapped her arm, and she stopped.
"Who is that, Mauri? In the doorway?"
"Loa"
Mauri went inside.
"You'll take the high road,
And I'll take the low road,
And I'll get to Scotland before ye,"
"Mauri, hush."
Mauri was singing softly under her breath, a faint Scottish brogue leaking into her diction. It was a song they'd heard that afternoon when they'd gone to a local pub for lunch, but Xander was surprised to hear the small African slayer sing it. It was the first sign he'd had that she was adjusting to her new home.
Mauri quieted down, focusing intently on the lines she was drawing with her nub of charcoal. Xander turned his eyes back to the moors in front of him.
The night was silent again.
The moon wasn't full, which Xander appreciated, considering the fact that he'd chosen to unwind the night before by watching "An American Werewolf in London". It was gibbous, or some other term like that, that Willow would know without thinking, but he'd never paid attention to, and waning. Tomorrow night, it, and the stars around it, would finally be in the position he needed-that Willow needed-to restore his eye.
The night was foggy and cool, putting a silver haze around the grin of the moon and blacking out the aligning stars, reducing the surrounding country side to vague, half-formed, black and gray blobs. Xander's heart ached slightly for the clear, vast night skies over the dark continent, where he'd spent much of the last year searching out slayers. They'd found all the girls they could before the old council's funds had run out, leaving the Scoobies somewhat trapped on the English countryside while Giles negotiated grants and private donations. Xander's group of African slayers had been the last to arrive, a week ago. The girls had dropped into their tiny cots immediately, while Xander had found himself sleepless most nights, surrounded by alien noises with only an old, black and white television and equally ancient VCR for company. Part of him was intrigued by how the lack of color had changed the familiar movies in the cottage's limited library.
How much creepier those movies became.
Xander pulled his hawaiian shirt over his body, a deliberate attempt to brighten the grey light of the overcast British August. It had made the girls laugh and had brought a rare smile to Giles' increasingly haggard face, so he deemed the effort a success; even in the cool night air, he refused to cover it with a dark jacket.
Mauri began to sing softly again, a keening lullaby in an unfamiliar language. Xander shivered, and murmured "Mauri," and she closed her mouth, but continued to hum.
"What's that you're drawing?" Xander leaned over Mauri's shoulder, knowing that she wasn't likely to answer him, or even to have consciously heard his question. Xander didn't have a great deal of experience with Autism, but had been traveling with the ten year old slayer for several weeks now, and had grown used to her silence. She, like the other slayers now living in the stone cottage, would not be able to make use of her new powers. She lived in her own mind, coming out only on rare occasion to acknowledge those who surrounded her.
That was what kept Xander up nights, and, he suspected, Giles as well. Most of the girls had been given a limited amount of training, several contact numbers, and a Slayer's Handbook, and been left to remain in her own home, to protect her area.
No one had suspected, last May, that there would be so many slayers who couldn't slay.
Other than Mauri, Xander, Giles and Willow watched over girls who were wheelchair bound, or deaf, or blind, or otherwise incapable of understanding and fulfilling their new role. The cottage's remote position provided some protection, as did the wards that Giles and Willow checked each morning, but being chosen had made the girls targets, and it was the Scoobies' responsibility, as the ones who called them, to make sure that they were safe.
Mauri shifted slightly, peering closely at the cottage in front of them, giving Xander a better view of her sketch. Drawing was one of the few things that the girl could do without becoming stressed, so when she had decided to venture outside, in the middle of the night, with her notebook and pencils, all Xander could do was follow.
She was rather amazingly good at it. She'd started at the top right corner of the page, and in the last ten minutes had already filled half of it with an almost photographic rendering of the cottage. Even the white areas, representing the dim lights shining in the windows through the fog, seemed to glow from the page.
"That's good, Mauri."
Mauri continued to hum, picking up her blending stick and smoothing out the rough lines on the paper.
"When you're done, we should go inside." Xander leaned back again, scanning the area and clutching his stake. "It's getting very late, and Willow is going to make omelettes in the morning."
Mauri loved omelettes. Her pencil started to move faster, and her hum dropped off as she concentrated more on her drawing.
Without warning, she stood, letting her pencils fall to the ground. She didn't glance at Xander as she started toward the door of the cottage. Xander hurried to follow.
"Can I see it?"
Mauri kept walking, the swing of her arm smearing a little of the charcoal across the still blank third of the page. Xander paced himself to be walking beside her and set a hand on her small shoulder. She glanced up at him, a faint frown coming over her features.
"It's just me, Mauri."
She nodded slightly, still frowning. Xander blinked, he hadn't really expected a response. She stopped, a few feet short of the door, and turned so that the porch light was at her back. She held up the drawing.
The detail and accuracy was even more amazing when viewed in the light. Xander crouched down beside her and placed a hand on the metal spiral of the notebook, waiting to see if she would let him take it.
Her grip remained solid, but she did shift the picture toward him slightly.
It was beautiful, though incomplete. Mauri had managed to capture the fog that blurred the outlines of the building, and even the individual blades of grass reflecting the light spilling from the windows. Xander smiled. "That's very good."
She didn't move, but continued to stare at the image. Xander glanced at her face, then followed the focus of her eyes back down the drawing.
She was looking at the dark rectangle of the door, with its mottled-glass window. More specifically, at the small square of light shining on the steps in front of the door.
In the square was the shadow of a person, pressing their hands against the glace.
Xander looked back up at the empty window in the door, then down at shadow. He turned to look at the door.
"Mauri."
The African slayer continued to gaze down at the drawing. He wasn't sure that she remembered he was there.
"Mauri, who's this?" Xander pointed to the shadow.
Mauri seemed to shudder back to life. She tucked the drawing back under her arm, turning back toward the door. Xander tapped her arm, and she stopped.
"Who is that, Mauri? In the doorway?"
"Loa"
Mauri went inside.