out again. There have been little offerings left along our route and I’ve been collecting them, sharing the nuts and berries with my companion. Every time I’ve found one, I make sure to say, “Thank you,” hoping that whoever gifted it to us is still around to hear my gratitude.
We fall into a pattern over the next couple of days. I dress Vaeril’s wound, we camp in a tree, and when we wake, our water flask is full and we have a leaf filled with food and a small pile of angel’s breath. I dress Vaeril’s wound again and we continue our journey.
The injury is getting worse, despite the angel’s breath which initially seemed to be helping. We’re back to walking together, his arm slung over my shoulders as I half drag him along.
“How far are we now?” I ask, praying to the Great Mother that it’s not much farther.
“Not far,” he replies, which is the same answer he’s been giving me for days, except this time I can barely hear the words. I worry that, in his fever fogged brain, he’s lost his way and we’re actually travelling in circles.
I know he doesn’t have long now, and if he was a human he would already be dead. This fear is the only thing that keeps me going. I’m starving, dehydrated, exhausted, and in pain. None of that matters, my inner voice keeps chanting.
He can’t die, you have to keep going. He can’t die.
Vaeril suddenly becomes heavy and drops to the ground, dragging me down with him.
“Vaeril!” I cry out, trying to untangle myself from him and rolling him over onto his back.
His face is red, and when I place a hand on his temple, I realise he’s feverish. He lets out a pained noise, his eyes closed, and starts to mutter something. Lowering my ear to his mouth, I try to make out what he’s saying.
“Must keep going...have to make her... safe.”
Leaning back on my heels, I take a deep breath and screw my eyes shut for a minute, needing to push aside my panic. Think, Clarissa, think. My heart is pounding and I know he’s dying, I can feel it in the pull between us.
“Vaeril, you are not going anywhere, stay with me,” I shout, as I look around us. I have no idea where we are or how far away Galandell is, but I know I need to get there. Scrambling to my feet, I grab him under his shoulders and pull, dragging him in the direction we’d been walking. Tears roll down my face, but I don’t care. I know something integral within me will break if he dies, and I’m not sure I would ever get over that.
What was the point in opening my heart and letting people in if they’re just going to die?
I can feel I’m reaching my limits. My limbs shake, and as I trip over a root, I tumble to the ground in a heap. Pushing up into a kneeling position, I know what I need to do, it’s the only option that’s left. Bowing my head, I hold out my hands in the gesture of praise.
“Please, Mother, help me, guide me—I don’t know what to do.”
I feel her presence near me, but it’s weak, and I remember what she said, that she wouldn’t be able to help me here. I’m on my own.
“Miss?”
I spin at the unfamiliar voice, crouching over the elf to protect him from any potential threats. I can’t see anyone, and I wonder if I was just hearing things when a throat clears, pulling my attention to a pile of brambles and twigs.
“Miss, are you okay?” The voice is scratchy and whispery, like they have not used it in a long time. The brambles start to move, and I see a pair of small, glowing orange eyes. My own eyes widen as the creature stands and takes a couple of steps towards me.
It comes up to about knee height on me, has thin, spindly limbs that I had mistaken for twigs, and the twisting brambles make up its body. It has pale, bark-like skin, and a sweet face with a button nose and pointed chin. Large, bat-like ears protrude from its head, which it tilts to one side as it examines me in return.
“Who are you?” I ask quietly, as I try to determine if the creature is friend or foe.
“I am Stix,” he replies, a smile appearing on his face as he gestures to his stick-like