Don't let go

All I'm takin' is your time. Help me make it through the night.
I don't care what's right or wrong, I won't try to understand.
Let the devil take tomorrow Lord tonight I need a friend.
Yesterday is dead and gone and tomorrow's out of sight
And it's sad to be alone. Help me make it through the night

"Don't let go."

Fragments of places yet to see and planes of worlds undiscovered passed me by. I was falling through the distances, through the fire and brimstone, through the emptiness and smoke. The light was blinding and almost as painful as the first ragged gasp for air. While I tried to open my eyes, there was a solid lock of fingers that took mine. "Mezoo, can you hear me?" It had been a long journey and for what felt like another eternity than the one I had been gone, I lay still taking in where I was. It was a strange place but the familiar faces gave me ease. Mother was brushing her fingers through my hair in that loving way that she always has. Grandmother's worry easing from her brow as she watched me stir. She rose quietly to step outside, perhaps to offer her prayers of thanksgiving. Yes, I hear them all.

This was not Huu's wagon was it? Why had I felt so sure I would awaken in our family healer's wagon? Instead it was Ongel's and He was asking if I wanted to try and drink some water to help clear my head. There was a comfort in the fact that he was there. In the few times I had met him there had been an ease to our banter .. no pressure to be anything more than a friend to talk to. That first sound through the scorched vocal chords was alien to me. Rasping, dry as I tried to say yes but couldn't. He helped me sit up and a fit of wracking coughs took what little breath I had away again. Even the water the girl held for me hurt to try and swallow. I needed to confirm my surroundings because I didn't trust what I saw. Was I where I was supposed to be .. was I in my own world or still some playground of another Haruspex imaginations? "I am in your healer's wagon?"

His confirmation put a few of the questions I had aside but still left so much unanswered. Smoke inhalation ... brought with the others ... the children. "It is confusing but I remember ..." No, not really, I didn't. For the first time in a very long time I felt the vulnerability of being only seventeen turnings. He brushed my hair back behind my ear. A delicate touch before his fingers traced along my jawline and it gave me a feel of being grounded. No longer lost in a place that wasn't ... tangible. Mother's voice sifted through the wagon. It has always been so quiet, so sweet. "He has been here since you were brought to him, Meechin. He has been kind enough to let us stay with you." I was beginning to know I had returned when my instant thought was that Grandmother would not have had it otherwise but would have appreciated there not being a battle to wage. The Healer though worn thread bare by sheer will did not look worse for the wear of a cane against his shins nor his temple. At least none that I could see.

"You have not rested Ongel?" No one among the harigga had from what I found later .. none but me it seemed. There was an off handed promise he would soon. There was so much .. so many .. an echo in his words spoken by every Tuchuk that had faced the fires and still breathed. Still breathed ... the imagery threatening to emerge from the depths.

"How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?" The distraction brought an instant relief. I heard the sound of him clearing his throat. I wanted that, to experience just what he was doing. I wanted this ache I felt in mine to go away, to be able to clear the pathway and be able to take in more air I wanted to breathe. My fingers touched where his had been. "My throat, my chest .. just tired."

That croaked sound .. the frog in the marsh, was my own voice. "I will help care for .." The journey I could explain to no one still lingered, still held its lull on me. I could feel the mists hold and I was still struggling to break free of it with the same stubborn Tuchuk pride that I was blamed for having not so long ago.. "I will help." I noticed the cold. The feel of his fingers on my chest was like a bath of ice on my skin. I was flaming Hot. Hotter than a fever to the touch. I couldn't help the shiver and he dropped his hands away quickly. I heard him telling me about the orphaned sisters .. He tried to bargain with the daemoness that if it would keep her within the confines of the wagon and resting for a few days .. he would bring them over to keep me company. I am not one to be quick with an answer so I let the cool feel of his fingertips soothe before I countered. ... "close .. how about close to the wagons?" My fear of closed spaces was finding an out even if I was not in the frame of mind to do so for myself. He agreed, close it would be, as long as I did not to go far nor allow myself to get winded. A promise that was going to be broken on all accounts the very next day I am afraid.

He sent his slave for some food hoping that I would eat. There was a unison voice .. Mother and daughter alike that he would eat too. It amused me so much that I laughed or had tried to. The volley of gasping coughs rendered me silent once more and I reached for his hand when the world began to grow dark again. How could I tell them how frightened I was to return to that place and even now its tug was strong. Don't let go, Mezoo. Don't let go. Mother told him I could cook. He could join us in our meals and was welcome to come check on me when he felt the need. Was she match making? Was she trying to get a rise out of me.. make me fight back? I didn't argue .. even if I had the voice, the strength, the will to .. I didn't argue even when the fire from my lungs rose to spread over my cheeks. It matched the hue on his, so all was well wasn't it?

It was time to know what lay beyond the wagon flaps. I felt the vastness inside but needed to hear it spoken. "Are there so many injured?" He braced as he tried to tell me with words what I had glimpses of already. His exhale spoke volumes as did the squaring back of his shoulders. "Yes." Was that enough of an answer at a time like this? I told them I'd seen those we lost and left it there. He had lost four wagons and I would find out later Grandmother had lost two and Mother one but my own had survived even with their meager belongings inside intact. It didn't seem fair to me and I felt embarrassed because of my own good fortunes.

The conversations were kept light for the most part after that. We spoke of our families, each with the bittersweet of losses. A little of how he became a healer and the importance it held for him. He has a giving heart and I find that admirable even more so from a fierce Tuchuk warrior. I couldn't find the name of the woman he asked about in my memory but somehow I felt a want to. The query would be taken with me when I spoke to Grandmother, to see if she remembered her or her Mother. In return I shared the confidence that when my Father left on a Ubar's mission my whole world had changed. It had been two envars now but the ache was still fresh inside. I finally managed with Mother's help to be able to sit up against a brace of furs and without one of those major coughing spells. He helped her rub away some of the build up mists that had gathered in my lungs and I would not be truthful if I said their attentions were not welcomed. I even manged to get a little bit of fruit down. Like others the smell of roasted meat was going to be an aversion for a while. For me it was not that it was so vile a notion as it lacked a sweetness that still permeated every breath I tried to take.

Somewhere along the eve I asked if I was going to live an ahn or two longer. I could hope for more longevity than that but considering the past hand, I would accept what I was offered. Even Mother smiled as he said I might last more than a few ahns, even a few hands or seasons. I might just make it until I was nice and old and had many children running around all over the place. So far into the future that I might wish for just an ahn or two of rest and thinking back wistfully to a moment or two when I was a young girl just laying in the furs with nothing to do but listen to some warrior. It held faith and it held hope and those were all the words my family had been waiting to hear. I myself held tighter to those words than I had his hand and that had become a vice grip and a constant. Through the entire night if I did not reach for his then he had reached for mine.

He told me too that Ayguili had come to see me while I was out of it. I wish I had been able to know. I wish I had been awake to feel his hand in mine and to touch his cheeks and somehow tell him everything was going to be alright. I wasn't there for him in his hardest moments .. not the losses among the Tribe .. not the loss of his brother. There was a pain that came from a different place in my chest that I didn't want to talk about. That was going to take a long time before any would be able to reach inside and I open to reveal those emotions. I turned my cheek into the fur and just watched his slave serve Mother.

Changing the subject I told Ongel as I had once before, he was a skilled healer. He gave credit to his Father for passing down his charm. The amusement made me smile and it cracked its way across my face as if I were a statue crumbling away a veneer. Here I thought I was the Haruspex and he was talking of magic. Sitting up with Mother's help, she aided me in looking over the healer's wounds. We were both grateful I think that the majority were superficial and most would scab quickly. There had been that moment when I was close enough to feel his breath against my cheek, to know the warmth of his face. I had wished in that one length of time to know what his lips tasted like and it sat me back rather quickly. He took my hand in his and turned my palm where the dark circle in its center was visible. I almost drew it back, almost curled my fingers into my palm, to protect it. It was something I kept hidden, kept as my own remembrance. One day I would tell him of the scar I carried but not this night. His gaze never left mine as he pressed a kiss there then lowered it back to me. He told me thank you and I was about to ask him why when Mother cleared her throat and told us it was perhaps time to let me rest so that I did not overdo. The healer made his farewells with promise to stop in among our wagons soon. I didn't want him to go and asked Mother if he could stay. She holds wisdom in few words and left the gentleness of her gaze give the answer. I was so exhausted even from just sitting up I didn't try to argue.

Grandmother joined us moments later and there in the strangeness of someone else's canvas we gave in to the bond that held us close. They were safe. They were here. They had needed me to be alright and I needed them to be. I felt loved and felt the tenderness of being able to love and it simply be accepted. I felt no pressure to be anything but the woman I was .. just Mezoo and it was ok. We all felt that way I think. The remainder of that night, through the ahns we would reach out and catch a hand and hold on dearly. Three generations of strong women who held to the others in a way that said we were never going to let go.