Working together they had managed to get his exhausted, wounded body up the steps and into the wagon. He stumbled to the pile of furs and literally dropped down, throwing his good arm over his eyes, and probably would have slept that way had it not ben for her.
Tugging his boots off her nose wrinkled at the odor of animal dung, mud and blood. Sitting them beside the flaps, she managed to get his leathers off. They had already taken his vest off and Kaeli had sliced through his tunic to get to his wounds. Taking the bloodied leathers and boots, she stepped out onto the platform and freezing cold or not, there was the ever faithful kasra, rolled up in a fur on the steps. She handed the clothing off to her, told to clean them, and to go to the fire, look for his vest and get it and if it was still serviceable to lean it too.
Stepping back inside, she moved to the kettle that was kept simmering on the brazier and poured the water from it into a basin, tempered it with cool, grabbed some reps and soap and moved back to his sleeping form. Carefully she bathed him, removing all of the blood and gore from him, shedding quiet tears as she did so. He would not understand her tears, and would probably think them weak, but they were still shed.
Death among them was a daily occurrence and each time he stepped from the wagons there was a part of her that feared that she would never see him again. If that nugget of fear, that she keeps pushed down deep inside is a weakness, then she has it. This is journey makes almost twenty-eight seasons of snow for her, and in that short life, she has stood by the pyres of both parents, many friends, and two mates that she loved deeply. She knows loss, but that does not mean she must embrace it.
Gently she cleansed him with water and tears. He did rouse enough to ask for water,which she gave him in small sips. She also encouraged him to drink a bit more of the wine, which he did. He tried to reach for her with the injured arm, let out a growl of pain and frustration as he let it fall back to the furs. Giving him another sip of the wine, she sat the cup down and crawled into the furs beside him.
Tonight, their positions were reversed a little. She did not lay in those strong protective arms, head on his chest as they usually slept. Tonight, she slipped her arm beneath his head and he rolled over to lay his head on her breast, and laying the injured arm across her body for support and slept. Pulling the furs up over both of them, she shifted her head from time to time to kiss the top of his head, while her fingers gently rubbed on his shoulder.
This night, in the privacy of their wagon, he allowed himself to be embraced in the protective circle of her arms. In a small way, she was offering him not only protection, but strength to draw from. Just recently she had been told that the most dangerous place on Gor was that distance between a mother, and what she perceived as a threat to her child. That is also true of a Tuchuk woman and the man she loves. Tonight that place was not only dangerous, but it encompassed the entire world. Right now, she would fight a larl to keep this man safe, protected, and to give him the time to heal.
They lay like this for most of the night, him sleeping the sleep of the just, and her unable to sleep, having this almost irrational fear that if she slept, something would happen to him. For ahns, she watched the flickering shadows cast by the candles until they burned down. Finally her eyes closed and she too slept.
No comments:
Post a Comment