"That's Abner's bad luck," Constance huffed. "I don't aim to be bound. Not now, or ever. And now more than ever, I've got to see to it that he doesn't see reason to stake a claim."
Constance turned to see the diminutive form of Miss Anna standing nearby. The older woman's wide-set eyes regarded her with half-amused scrutiny. As usual, Miss Anna carried her cane, but Constance noticed that she didn't seem to lean on it as much as she used to.
Constance self-consciously dropped the metal pipe, which fell into the soft bed of fronds almost silently. "I didn't realize what I was doing," she admitted.
"I've been hearing a lot of that," Miss Anna agreed, her expression quickly becoming serious. "Did you realize what you were saying to young Mister Wade? I just saw him, and he was fair upset over you."
Constance felt her jaw twitch. "Why does everyone think that I have some stake in Abner's feelings?" She made an exasperated sound and averted her eyes, looking out at the black expanse of stars beyond the bizarre variety of the garden's canopy. "If he gets burned more than other folks, it's just because he's more inclined to touch the fire."
"There's a remarkable lack of responsibility in that observation," Miss Anna pointed out. "You're the closest thing Abner has to a peer in our group. He cares for you. Is there something you dislike about him?"
Constance thought about it before answering. "It's not Abner I dislike. It's what everyone assumes about Abner and me. And it's the notion that Abner would like to assume the same thing. I can't abide being tethered so."
Miss Anna took a step toward the younger woman, holding her cane in both brown hands. "You're the last pair of young people in our group who haven't matched. Folks are bound to make something of it."
"That's Abner's bad luck," Constance huffed. "I don't aim to be bound. Not now, or ever. And now more than ever, I've got to see to it that he doesn't see reason to stake a claim."
"Why now?" The older woman prodded.
"It's this place," Constance explained, her eyes scanning over the fantastic shapes that surrounded them. "The colonist deck on Westward was bad enough. At least there was work, a routine, as stifling as it was. There was precious little to keep me from crawling out of my skin there. Here, there's nothing."
She stopped, buried her fingers in her hair and looked at Miss Anna desperately. "I'm losing myself," she whispered.
Miss Anna dropped her cane to the ground and strode across the space between them to take Constance in her arms. "It's not just you, Connie. We all are. I'm beginning to fear it may be too late for some."
Constance sniffled, her nose capturing the woody, aromatic scent of Anna's curly salt-and-pepper hair. Part of her wanted to push the older woman away, but instead she found herself slackening into the embrace. "What do you mean?" She asked.