After taking a deep drag of his cigarette he asked,
So what do they say?
She stared at the bones strewn across the table in front of her,
You're due some bad times I'm afraid.
He smiled,
Figures. I have been a prick in my day.
She continued staring at the bones,
Yes, it seems you have. Are you sorry?
He stubbed out his cigarette,
Nope. Not a bit.
She looked up from the bones and into his eyes,
That might change.
He smiled wide,
If you say so.
She shook her head,
Not me. The bones.
He nodded slowly, still smiling. He lit another cigarette and drew on it heavily while looking around the tent,
Is that it then?
She gathered the bones up and placed them into a red velvet bag,
Almost.
His brow furrowed as he tilted his head, his ear pointed upwards,
What's that sound?
It was her turn to smile,
That's your time: it has come.
The tent flap opened and she emerged into the cold with a new set of knuckles added to those already in her velvet bag.