Every Good Girl (36 page)

The scuffling in the dry frozen undergrowth startled him from his musings. It was too small to be a mammal,
too early in the year to be a bird fallen from a nest. He went to investigate, treading fearfully across the crackling twigs. It was a thrush, broken winged and terrified, limping and dragging beneath the trees. He picked it up, gently in his soft gloves. He could kill it, should kill it and put it out of its misery. The thought both sickened and attracted him. Killing it would be power, would be
doing something about it
. He didn't get many opportunities for positive action, not on his own. The little bird squawked in his hand and its eyes were full of panic.

Carefully, he put it back on the ground. There would be starving foxes later, or an owl. He would leave it. Nature was cruel enough – she didn't need any help from him.

THE END