Fawn had known no peace, no lack of pain, both physical or emotional, for nearly the whole of her life.
Even here, amidst these whose only concern was that of her safety and her comfort, she knew no peace.
But then, neither of them ever had, not really. The reasons for it had merely been different, the years of being so ill, of knowing such pain, were now too much a part of them.
“Know you, that when it is over, strength will be yours. There will be no fears, no nightmares to combat. You will be the child you have whispered to the Almighty that you wish to be,” he whispered to Fawn, his expression so gentle, so filled with tenderness that even she felt a part of her calm at the sound of it.
Watching Fawn, she saw the shame that filled her friend. The fear she always felt shamed her, made her feel weak. She wouldn’t listen when they tried to tell her it only made her stronger.
“Ah child, such heart and compassion you hold within your small body,” the chief seemed to understand each of those fears, to the point that as Fawn finally turned her head and stared into his dark gaze, her lips had trembled and Honor had watched her eyes fill with such hope.
The sense of pure peace and certainty that filled her expression left Honor suddenly thankful that Judd had convinced them to take this only path they could find to safety.
“Child.” He turned to her then, holding out his other hand to her.
She wasn’t afraid.
She had faced her fears and knew the monsters that lurked in the dark. The unknown wasn’t nearly as terrifying as all the terrors her past held.
“See you these four?” She followed as Orrin reached out a hand and gestured to the warriors, their faces streaked with war paint, their dark eyes flinty in the light of the burning embers of the fire. “They will guide you on your journey. You know not their faces, but their strength will ease your way and help you keep the secrets you have hidden for so very long.”
She nodded. It wasn’t the pain she would ever fear. She had known pain. Pain that seared her insides and wrapped around her mind until she prayed to God to die.
No, pain was the least of her fears, because she had learned how to conquer it.
“There will be no fear, there will be no pain,” he promised Fawn then, grief tearing at his voice. Fawn was trembling and a single tear slid from the corner of her eyes. “It will be just peace.”
A trembling smile, one of hope, quivered about her lips.
“It is time then.” Orrin sat back, his head lifting, his palms turned up as a low chant began to fill the lodge.
Honor eased her hand to Fawn’s and gripped it, knowing how alone her friend often felt since they had lost Gideon. How frightened she felt now, knowing that even though they wouldn’t remember him, they were also losing Judd as well.
“I won’t see him again,” Fawn whispered. “I won’t know him.”
She knew who Fawn spoke of and breathed out softly.
From what Judd had said, Gideon would kill them all now if he could.
“It’s for the best. It will keep you safe. He’ll kill you if he can.”
The younger girl’s breathing hitched as she fought to hold back a sob. “He wouldn’t kill me, Honor. I know he wouldn’t.”
“Child.” Orrin Martinez gripped her hand, drawing her from Fawn’s tear-filled gaze. “Neither destiny, fate, nor the battle you are to fight on this earth can be avoided. It can only be delayed. To each of you—” He drew back as the chanting began once again. “To each of you, a protector will be sent. When it is time, when the memories must surface to guide the battle you must fight, your protector shall appear. One in the form of chaos, and one—” He looked to Fawn with gentle eyes. “One, my dear, in the form of death.”
A brilliant arc of light filled the room at Fawn’s throttled cry of fear, and another herb was tossed on the burning fire, the wicked red stones that the water hissed upon sending a rush of steam to fill the sweat lodge as the chanting increased.
Light flared. The winds roared outside. There were cries, both startled and filled with anger, from outside the lodge. She swore she heard gunfire—
Honor turned her gaze from Fawn’s and stared up at the crisscross of wood that made up the low ceiling and watched as the droplets of steam seemed to come to the point of the ceiling before feathering down, landing on her face, her arms, her legs.
Whatever upheaval gathered outside, inside she was safe.
She would have thought it would be hot in the lodge, but it was cool. Moisture washed over her overheated flesh and soothed it, then seemed to fill her lungs with a slightly sweet, slightly bitter taste.
With each swallow, the taste of the moisture comforted her, sent lethargy stealing through her and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn’t wonder what tomorrow would bring.
She knew what it would bring.