The Vigil

It has been almost nine years since Kam had sent him to watch over the young, grieving widow after the death of her first mate. His job then had been to keep the well-intentioned at bay until she had a chance to adjust to the change that had just taken place in her life.


There had been something about the young woman, with a new baby and no mate that had spoke to him on a deeper level. He was alone in the world, no family, and it did not take long for him to regard her as a daughter. Not a real replacement for the one he had lost so many years ago, but close.


Over time, a strong bond had grow between them. She was the first that he had told the tale of his life to. In fact, she had been the only one. She did not judge, she did not question, but simply accepted it for what it was. His life, his past, a part of him and who he was. When is duty was basically done, he stayed on. Not so much as someone to guard her, but as a member of the family. She had opened her heart and her arms to him, drawing him into her life as a respected elder.



This is why her current state has hit him so hard. If a larl was chasing her, he could draw a bow and drop it where it ran. If it was Kassar, he would gladly do the same, ripping their still beating heart from their body.. But this thing that had her in it's grasp, was something he could not see, he could not touch, and had no idea how to fight, how to protect her from it.


So many had come to help, in any way that they could. The woman Tarra had been there daily to spell him so that he could at least get some rest, not that he rested much. She and Mezoo had also taken charge of the children, trying to keep their sprits up, and to calm their fears.


Gifts of food arrived constantly. Broths, custards, fresh milk from verr and bosk, juices, cookies, tarts and all manner of foods. Some did not realize that they were only able to spoon liquids between her parted lips, but the thoughts and love behind the offerings would be told to her when she recovered.


Others asked to see her, if only for a moment. Some cajoled her, begged her to come back, others scolded, demanding that she get up, move on with her life. If it were just that easy.


A healer from the outer wagons came. A man. He has nothing against men as healers, he has known some very good ones that were men. It was just odd to him that the man would examine her as he did. He couldn't watch. He felt, even as she was, she deserved some dignity, some sort of modesty, so he turned his back to them, and listened as the man explained what needed to be done for her care.


Some of it they already did. Everything around her was kept immaculately clean, they tried to get the liquids down her, and to keep her warm. Maybe too warm. He listened and made a mental note of everything the man said, and honestly was overwhelmed. The healer left his girl there to help them. Muscles needed to be exercised, skin oiled and moisturized, drops of oil put into her eyes so they would not dry out. The list seemed endless.


But even with all of this, he still felt helpless. Ahn upon ahn, he sat beside her, holding on small hand in his gnarled grasp, talking to her. He told her how the children were doing, if the gossip from around camp. He talked of things they had done in the past. Of fishing, of him teaching her how to set and run traps for smaller game. The story of him, Tug and the new sleen. Anything he could think of, to keep a contact with her on some level. Somewhere inside him, he holds out hope that she can hear him, that she knows they are there for her.



He wants to do more, but doesn't have any idea where to start, so until he figures it out, he will be here, by her side, talking, waiting and praying. The woman is all that he has, she is his daughter, if not by blood, then by heart. He would give his very life for her, and has made that known to the Sky.