Summary: Colt dreams of La Dia de los Muertos.
Legal Stuff: Robert Rodriguez owns all the characters (implied or otherwise); Colt and I have cheesecake!
It was quiet—no guns, no shouts, no coup d'etat. Colt looked out her window and down down down was a figure in black. A black form and a boy in yellow. Then the canary flew away.
Colt was beside the body. Cold and clammy with blood tears streaming down its face, but it breathed still.
A scorpion beside her—hissing—and the long, lithe body was on her bed. She wiped the tears with a white bandanna and tied it around her wrist. The scorpion grabbed her roughly and turned her to him. In the animal's bandaged hand lay two orbs. He hurled them at her and disappeared.
Two chocolate eyes peered up at her and slowly melted through her fingers.
Colt's breath caught in her throat as she jerked awake. She instinctively gazed at her hands. The blood was gone; the eyes had never been there. But Sands had been there. He had been in her hands, in her care, silently dying.
And now he was gone.
Colt tugged on her jeans and ran out the door, foreboding chasing after.
Author's Notes: Thank you sooo very much to kalimaa and midnightmuse for their wonderful reviews! Really…you guys make me feel too…special! Hahaha!
I decided to write this chapter (actually Colt told me to) as a partial background as to why she's even here in my little world.
And no, no one knows if Sands is okay yet—no one but me! Evil Laugh!