The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,57
and that the people live wherever they choose.
“Where are you staying, then?” he asks.
“On the ground, at Kadee’s. I hate to admit it, but I don’t think I like being in the trees. It scares me.”
“Something scares you? I don’t believe it.”
“What really scared me was thinking that you weren’t going to make it,” I whisper. Tears threaten to flow again.
“Fenn, we’re out of the caves. We’re alive. We’re okay.” He tries to push himself up, but falls back, stifling a groan.
I wince. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d done so many things differently. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened. You might not have been hurt at all, if it wasn’t for me.”
He smoothes away a tear. “I didn’t know you were such a martyr. Please stop blaming yourself.”
“Who can I blame, then?”
“How about that Nerang guy? Let’s blame him.”
“Peree!”
The door opens. “I hate to interrupt, but I must change his bandages. And he needs his rest.”
I flash a grin at Peree, and mutter, “Told you.”
He takes my hand again. “Come back soon? I’ll need someone to show me around when I get on my feet.”
I grimace at him. “Go easy. You’ve been unconscious for days.”
“And I’m not going to waste any more time lying around.” He sounds so confident; I can’t help smiling again.
I squeeze Nerang’s arm as he walks me out. “You’re wonderful, Nerang.”
“I thought you might be surprised at how well he sounds.”
I nudge him. “Maybe he won’t need my strength after all.”
“Don’t be too sure,” he says, suddenly serious.
I want to ask what he means, but he steps back inside, leaving me standing alone in the soft spotlight of the moon.
I wake early the next morning, and slip out to check on Peree. He’s asleep, but Nerang’s there, mixing up a batch of the paste of calendula and comfrey he’s been applying to the wound. Considering all the fuss the man makes about people resting, he doesn’t seem to get much sleep himself. He promises to send for me when Peree wakes.
Dew wets my feet as I walk back to Kadee’s. She stayed up waiting for me the night before, to hear how Peree was doing. I appreciate her concern. And she’s the only one who calls Peree by name, instead of by “your friend.”
Kadee and I are cleaning our breakfast dishes when Kai comes again, to tell me Peree’s awake. I wonder why she’s Nerang’s messenger. Maybe they’re related, or she’s his apprentice or something.
“Your friend certainly has his appetite back,” Nerang says as I duck into Peree’s shelter a few minutes later. “This is thirds, is it not?”
“You said I needed to eat to get my strength back. How else can I do it?” Peree mumbles from the corner of his mouth.
“I said get your strength back, not make yourself sick,” Nerang says.
“Right now I’m only sick of being an invalid. It’s time for me to get up.”
“Are you sure you’re ready?” I ask.
“Give yourself time,” Nerang urges.
“I still have one good leg. The other one will have to find a way to keep up with it.” I hear him set the dish down and push himself off the bed.
I step closer. “Peree, maybe you should–” Too late. He collapses, and shrugs away from my hands. “Will you stop being such an idiot? Let me help you!”
I put my shoulder under his like I did in the caves, and we stagger around the shelter. I can hear his teeth grinding in pain, but he refuses to stop until we’ve made a complete circle back to the bed. After a minute of rest, he’s up again. The second time around seems a little easier for him. As we walk, I notice a few little differences, like his shirt. It’s clean, for one thing. He must have had a change of clothes. He’s too thin, but he smells really good—his familiar honeyed scent mingled with mint. Nerang probably used the same wash that he used to clean me up. I lean in a little closer, inhaling it.
After a few more laps around the cramped room, Nerang insists Peree rest. Peree insists he rest outside. “I need some fresh air after all that incense,” he mutters.
“Pigheaded, isn’t he?” Nerang says to me.
“You have no idea.”
Nerang leaves us with a warning that he’ll be back soon to wrestle Peree to bed if necessary. We sit down outside, our backs against the trunk of an impossibly wide, furrowed greenheart tree. He describes how the village looks from here.