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Millie had, of course, brought Edgar the duck with her. She took him out of her pocket and held him up in front of her, as though he was going to help her find the way back home.
“You don’t deserve horsies,” she said. “I don’t deserve beautiful landscapes. I don’t deserve Daddies. I don’t deserve Little Space. I don’t deserve anything good.” She was just about aware of the tears starting to stream down her cheeks. Her teeth started to chatter in the cold of the night. “I d-don’t deserve warmth and safety. I d-don’t d-deserve to be spanked by Chuck. He hates me, anyway. Mean Chuck.”
When Chuck had turned her down, she’d wanted the ground to swallow her up. It had been one of the worst, most humiliating experiences of her life. A true low point in a life that was already full of low points.
“You had to fuck it up, Millie. You get born into this life of plenty, of privilege, and you fuck it up.” The alcohol was magnifying her self-pity to epic proportions. “You have to be really damn worthless, totally dumb, to be given every advantage in life and then end up as fucked-up and miserable as I am.”
The tears were coming thick and fast now, making navigating her way back to the ranch in the dark even more unlikely.
“Edgar, should I just stop here?” She looked around — she was in the middle of what felt like an endless, dusty field. The ground was hard underfoot, and there was close-cropped, tufty grass all over the place. There was no water to drink anywhere.
For the first time, it struck her that she just might die tonight. It was cold. Really cold. She was parched. Could you die of not having water for one night? Probably not. Definitely not. Her mind was racing. If she were to die, would anyone care? Her dad would be angry with her, but he wasalwaysangry with her. At least he’d only be angry about one thing from now on. But Chuck would care. He’d feel guilty.
The thought hit her like a truck.
She didn’t want Chuck to feel guilty.
She was being so selfish.
If she got hurt, Chuck would blame himself.
Millie wiped her eyes. There was no way that she was dying tonight. It felt like a minor miracle, but somehow, she managed to sober up a little bit. She tried her best to feel better, even taking a moment to pinch her cheeks, desperately trying to wake herself up.
Think, Millie, think.
She scanned the horizon again. If only she could remember which direction she had come from. She couldn’t follow her footprints — she hadn’t left any. She couldn’t follow the landscape, she’d been too drunk to recognize any landmarks she might have passed.
Then, as the sky darkened, an idea grew in her mind.
Light. Light was the key.
If she could spot any light in the distance, that was the direction to go! It would be either the ranch or the town. Both of those destinations were the right way.
Millie felt a rush of hope wash through her, but as she kept looking, she couldn’t see a glow of light from any direction. Maybe it was too early.
Or maybe she was too far.
Just then, she heard something.
It was a sound that cut right to the bone. When she heard it, something ancient and primal inside her woke up. Fear.
Snarling. Low, ragged breathing. A predator.
Millie’s eyes snapped back, and she saw it. Squatting low to the ground, it was a shape that was imprinted on her ancestral memory. Wolf. Coyote. Fox. Wild dog. She knew, deep down, that she was in a lot of trouble.
She froze. If only she knew what to do. Should she scream and shout? Should she make herself tall and imposing? Should she turn tail and run?
Before she had the chance to do any of those, the snarling was joined by another set of snarls, and then another.
A pack of dogs emerged from the murk, and they seemed to be coming from all sides. Then, she had a moment of clarity when everything seemed to slow right down, and a single thought dominated her mind.
This is what you deserve.
The lead dog burst forward. Millie closed her eyes…
There was a flash, followed by a crack of thunder. Millie cowered, crouching on the ground, making herself small, wishing that everything would go away. More cracks, more flashes.
She opened her eyes and saw him: a figure, up high on a horse, holding a rifle. Chuck.
