---

The Dream

---

Copyright (C) 1996 by Charles Tryon

THE COMMUTER TRAIN was late again. It was always late. I wondered why they bothered to write the time on the schedule, or for that matter, why I rushed to make it to the platform on time every morning. The morning air was already hot and sticky, even for this time of year, and I could tell it was going to be a long, dreary day.

I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift to a place hidden deep within my imagination -- a place much more interesting than the grey reality I was slouched in. The platform and the shuffle of feet on concrete around me slipped away. I could almost smell the damp soil under me as I crouched behind the short stone wall. The rough texture of the wall was familiar -- I'd come to this place many times.

The sharp crack of gunfire followed by the ring of the bullets ricocheting off the stones by my head made me jump, and I pressed my stomach into the dirt. A cold bead of sweat made its way down the center of my back. I inched forward, though I had no idea where I was going, or for that matter, why. A slender wisp of smoke still rose from under what remained of the roof covering the bombed out house up ahead.

I stopped at a break in the wall. The distance across the opening was too far to sprint without cover, but I wondered if I might be able to dig some sort of trench to crawl through. I started to pull the shovel out of my pack, but I knew there wouldn't be enough time. What I needed was a distraction. An idea struck me, and I pulled the small grenade from my belt, armed it and lobbed it in the general direction of the gunfire. Then I braced myself and started to count. Five seconds, six, seven. There was a quick flash, and I waited for the concussion, but none came. That was strange... I couldn't remember that happening before.

Something hit me, and I jerked my head up. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to step on your foot." The sights and sounds of the platform flooded back over me. My gaze focused on a short, stocky man glaring at me, waiting for some sort of reply. I mumbled something and pulled my feet back in under the bench. The man gave me one more quizzical look and then moved on.

I looked at the clock on the post in the center of the platform and guessed that I still had ten minutes left before the train arrived. Oh well... My head nodded to my chest again, and the tracks faded away. I felt the grass dry and prickly under my hands. I looked around the corner of the brick building, back at the opening in the wall behind me. Well, that was one way to get out of a sticky situation. Pity I couldn't use that trick more often.

I crept up to an open window and pressed my back to the wall, pausing for a moment to listen. Nothing. The sound of gunfire had stopped, but I knew it wouldn't be long before it started again. There just wasn't enough time. It was risky going through the window, but I had to get inside, so I slid through and fell to the floor with a dull thud. I held my breath, straining to hear any sounds over the hammering of my heart in my ears. Nothing.

I rolled over and worked to my feet. The wall toward the open field was still standing, which gave me some protection. The far wall had been completely blown out and through the gaping hole I could see the corn field. It would be a quick sprint from the house, with part of the distance shielded by what was left of the barn. I should be able to make it.

A rifle leaned in the corner, and an ammunition belt was draped over a charred chair next to it. I picked up the belt and cinched it tight around my waist. The gun was old, and when I picked it up, I found it was heavier than I had expected, but it was clean and looked well cared for... and it was loaded. I gripped it tight, figuring that it might come in handy, and headed for the opening in the wall.

I'd covered half the distance to the barn before the firing started again. I reached the barn and didn't stop. I flew down the short drive and out onto the dirt road that ran by the farm. A bullet slapped past my ear as I dove across the drainage ditch on the other side, landing hard on my knees. The stones cut through my pants and into the skin of my knees, but I scrambled up and raced the last few feet to the relative protection of the tall corn stalks.

I kept running until I had left the sound of gunfire behind me. When I thought I had put enough distance between myself and them, I dropped to the ground and tried to catch my breath. I might be safe for a little while here, but not for long. I had to keep moving.

But where? I strained to hear the sounds around me. The wind rustled the tops of the corn high over my head. It was almost ready to harvest. I tasted blood and realized I had cut my face on the razor sharp leaves. I'd have to be more careful here.

There was a faint hiss behind me and I froze. For a couple of heartbeats, it was silent, but then the sound came again, this time closer. I wondered if it was a snake or some other animal, but it had a subtle human quality to it. I tightened my grip on the rifle, braced myself, and wondered if I could catch it before it caught me.

I scrambled to my feet and tried to swing the barrel of the rifle around, but between the close rows of corn, I fumbled and almost dropped the weapon. Whoever it was would have had little problem taking me out if he had planned to.

Or, if she had planned to...

The girl crouched low to the ground two rows away from me. Her skin was the color of the rich soil, and the hair which fell around her shoulders in waves shone with the colors of the raven. She wore a short green dress, streaked with shifting hues of brown and gray. Her feet were bare, but by the way she balanced on them, it looked as if she could have sprung off in any direction with equal speed.

What struck me most though were her eyes. I couldn't tell if it was a trick of the sunlight filtering through the leaves above our heads, but they shone, green as the new leaves in the spring. They held me motionless as she looked me over from head to foot.

I don't know how long I stood there with my mouth open before she impatiently cocked her head and signaled for me to follow. She made no noise as she padded swiftly down the rows of corn. The streaks in her dress shifted and bend with her every move, mingling with the patterns of light and dark from the sunlight as it slanted down through the leaves.

I hadn't noticed the sound of the approaching chopper before, but when the girl paused and looked up, I too heard it. It was still some distance off, but it was coming fast. From the air, it wouldn't take much to spot us. The girl looked as if she could vanish into the colors of the dirt and plants around us, but I was dressed in drab blue and stuck out like a black fly against a white wall. I shouldered my rifle and struggled to catch up with her.

The chopper came on us quicker than I anticipated. I'd just caught up with the green eyed girl when she stopped dead in her tracks. She squinted up in the direction of the approaching terror and let out another sharp hiss. She looked at me while I crouched in the dirt next to her, trying to make myself as small as possible. This wasn't going to work. They would discover both of us. Already, the tops of the stalks were bending and fluttering in the wash of the blades.

Then she grabbed my hand. Without a word, she pointed straight ahead. We had almost reached the edge of the field, and I could just make out the cool darkness of trees ahead of us. Of course! If we could make it to the trees, then the chopper would have a difficult time following us. She was quick, whoever she was, and knew the area. She gave me a shove in the direction of the trees, and though she was no larger than a child, I was surprised by her strength.

Then, she gave me a sly grin, and shot off at a right angle to the rows of corn. She ran, flailing her arms and crashing the stalks down around her. I almost took off after her before I realized what she was doing. The sprint to the woods would have been a hopeless risk with the chopper directly over us, and there was no way we would have made it. However, If she drew the chopper away, I might be able to make it myself. A hole opened up in the pit of my stomach, but I knew I had to go. By this time, there was no stopping her. I waited until I was sure I heard the sound of the chopper veering off to follow her, then I dug in my boots and sprinted for all I was worth towards the line of trees.

As soon as I was past the first row of trees, I spun around and slid to the ground behind one ancient giant. I couldn't see the chopper, but I could still make out the whine of its engines, mixed with the rattle of automatic fire. It went on for a couple more seconds, and then abruptly stopped. The bird of prey hovered for a few moments more, and then the whine of the engines rose as the pilot gunned the throttle, pulling up and away. In seconds, he was gone.

I turned and slumped back against the rough bark of the tree. I knew I had to keep moving, but the strength suddenly had gone out of me. The eyes of the mysterious girl still haunted me. She had come and gone so quickly, but I knew I would never forget that piercing green gaze.

I was just forcing myself to stand when the air above me torn open with a searing scream. Something slammed into one of the trees to my right and exploded in a blinding flash. The heat and smell of burning metal pounded my senses. People crowded around me.

There was another screech and I looked up. The platform shook as the lumbering commuter train braked to a stop in front of us. The other workers were already pushing past me to get to the train, hoping to get one of the last few seats. I grabbed my briefcase and struggled to my feet, but my mind was still on the green eyed girl. My legs felt like they had turned to putty and my back sagged under the weight of heavy chains. Still, I clenched my teeth and forced my way to the door. I made it through just as the train groaned back into motion.

Most of the seats were taken, but there was one left, near the back of the car. A young woman occupied the seat next to the window, and I tried to force a polite smile as I sat down next to her, but her eyes never wavered from the scenery already rolling past us. Fine. I wasn't in a talking mood either. The train quickly picked up speed, and took on the familiar pitch and roll of the uneven rails. The rhythm numbed the senses, and it wasn't long before the sounds began to fade.

All around me the woods reached off without end. I tried to guess what direction I was facing by the sun, but the leaves were too dense overhead. I started off in one direction. No, that was wrong. I turned to my right and tried again. That was closer. A little to the left, and I knew it was the correct direction.

I walked quickly. There was no path, but the solid canopy of leaves above blocked the sunlight to the point where little more than gaunt saplings and scrawny bushes grew on the ground below. I pushed on, following some internal sense of the direction I was to follow, but with every step, I had to fight the urge to turn and race back to the edge of the woods, back to the girl with the green eyes. Every so often, I thought I saw her in the woods -- a shaft of sunlight striking a leaf here, a faint crack of a twig there -- but it always turned out to be a false alarm. I was alone.

In time, the trees began to thin. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, and I thought about what to do when it got dark. I was looking for a spot to spend the night when I first caught the smell of smoke. It didn't take long after that to hear the dull roar behind me. It might have been there for some time, but I hadn't noticed it before. Now, as streamers of smoke began to curl around me in the failing light, it was obvious, and growing. The setting sun cast a dull red glow on the sky above, but there was another light too, flickering like something alive. The fire was coming, and under these conditions, it would be moving fast. The wind had picked up, and the smoke already stung my eyes.

I began to run. I could see the flames now, off to my left, so I turned away from them. The wind at my back blew hot, and I was having trouble seeing. I was losing ground.

I had almost given up hope when I spotted the ring in the ground. I almost ran past it -- the rusted iron was nearly invisible against the leaves, especially in the smoke. I reached down, grabbed it and pulled. It didn't move at first, so I threw all my strength into it, and was rewarded with the rasping screech of old iron hinges. A door swung open, revealing an opening, barely as wide as my shoulders, and perhaps twice that long. The smooth walls were cool gray, and steps descended into the darkness. The sparks were flying around me and licking at the leaves at my feet by the time I dropped into the opening and slammed the door down above me.

It was a tight fit, but I wanted to put some distance between myself and the inferno that raged above me. I figured that I could wait it out, and then return to the surface. On the other hand, if I could find a comfortable spot here, I might even spend the night. I hadn't liked the idea of spending the night out in the open, and this looked like a good place to hide.

I expected complete darkness in the tunnel, but as I descended, I began to notice a faint string of glowing panels along the wall. The light was dim, but after a while, I found I could see around me. The roof was high enough over my head that I could turn around and stand up straight. This made my progress down the stairs quicker, but still gave no hint as to the purpose of the tunnel I had entered.

I lost count of the number of steps by the time I finally reached the bottom. The tunnel extended on into the dim light ahead of me, still just wide enough for me to walk through. A cool breeze brushed past me, and the air carried only a faint smell of dampness and soil.

I kept walking until the hall came to an abrupt end at a small circular room. The same luminescent panels that lit the hall circled the room, giving enough light to move around, but not enough to make out fine details. There was a small bed, and a niche in the wall where a bottle of some clear liquid had been placed, along with a small pile of what appeared to be dried rations. From the dust on the bottle and rations, I guessed that it was some time since anyone had been there. The food was simple, but gave no hint of having gone rancid.

I peered around in the semi-darkness. It was clear that this was a safe hole of some sort, but who had put it here, and who or what had they been hiding from? I was probably not the first one on the run to take refuge in this dark place.

I awoke some time later to the nagging feeling that I had already wasted too much time here. I quickly retraced my steps to the trap door and gingerly reached up to feel the iron ring on the underside of the door. If it was still hot, I'd have to wait longer before I was sure the fire had died down. It was warm to the touch, but by that time the frustration had built to the point where I couldn't wait any longer. It took a while to force the door open. There was little room to maneuver, and I had difficulty finding a place to wedge my shoulder to lean into it. Finally, it gave, and I emerged hot and sweaty into the blackened desolation of the world above.

The heat of the fire had not reached all the way to the tops of the larger trees, so the canopy above was still intact for the most part, but it had made enough openings that I could see little patches of sky above me. It was early morning, and through the scattered breaks in the leaves above, I could see the deep blue of the morning sky. The trunks of the larger trees had only been singed, but everything else on the ground had been turned to ash by the heat of the racing inferno. Here and there smoke still curled up, and every step kicked up a little cloud of ash, but it had cooled enough to walk on. I shouldered the rifle and set off again.

I had only gone a few steps when I saw the footprints. They were clearly outlined in the ash where a faint pencil of morning sun chanced to find its way to the ground, so whoever had made them had passed that way since the fire. I felt a shiver go down my spine as the cool morning air brushed against my cheek. Whoever was following me had tracked me into the forest here, and they were now ahead of me. I pulled the rifle off my shoulder again and proceeded at a loping trot.

In less than an hour I reached the edge of the wood and found that the fire had devoured the grassland that spread out in front of me just as hungrily as it had consumed the undergrowth in the forest. In the distance I could still see the column of smoke and flame as it licked at the dry grass. The tracks I followed passed from the forest and out into the plain, but I could see nothing of my pursuers. It was unsettling knowing that they were out there, somewhere. I considered following the tracks, but decided that the last thing I wanted was to run into them out in the open. Instead, I'd have to find a way to get around them to reach my destination before they did. I retreated back into the relative protection of the trees and pushed on, following the rough edge of the forest.

I came to a small stream gurgling down a narrow gully. Either because of the moisture provided by the stream, or because of the steep sides of the gully, the fire had jumped over it, leaving behind a tenuous ribbon of green through the ash. I climbed down and washed the sweat from my face and neck, thinking that it would be wonderful to take off my boots and cool my feet in the bubbling water, but there was no time to stay.

However, it occurred to me that the steep sides of the gully might provide some cover as I moved. It was going roughly in the right direction, and it would shield me from prying eyes scanning the field. There were a few small trees there, their leaves yellowed and withered by the heat, but they might provide some cover from above.

My thoughts were interrupted by the faint snap of a twig on the other side of the gully and I froze where I knelt. I was next to a tall bush, but my right side was completely exposed. I inched my hand towards the rifle on the ground next to me and hoped that the noise had just been made by some small animal.

When I saw no further motion, I began to wonder if I'd imagined the sound. I slowly backed away from the stream and up the embankment, stopping when I reached a small clump of saplings. When I peered from behind them, I spotted the mottled green dress of the girl I had seen the day before as she slipped noiselessly to the water and began to drink.

I wanted to shout for joy, but I bit my tongue, and stepped from behind the trees. She looked up the bank at me, but the twinkle in her eyes spoke of amusement rather than surprise. She had known of my presence there all along and had finally decided to show herself to me.

I clumped down to the edge of the stream opposite her, my boots making as much noise as a herd of elephants compared to her silent step. "So, how long have you been following me?" She stared back up at me with her peculiar smile and shrugged.

I let out a sigh. "You appear to be moving in the same direction as I am." She gave a quick nod of the head and the line of her lips took on a determined set.

"Do you speak?" She nodded once, and then shook her head. That was a lot of help. She would speak when she had to I guessed. In the mean time, she seemed perfectly capable of letting me know what she wanted without the help of words. I squatted down at the edge of the water until my eyes were at the same level as hers. She looked straight at me without blinking.

"I don't know this area," I whispered, "but it seems that you do. Will you help me find what I'm looking for?" It suddenly struck me how foolish my question was. Here I was, asking a complete stranger to lead me to a place that I did not know, and could not explain to her.

It appeared to make perfect sense to the green eyed girl though. She got up, stepped into the center of the brook and stood in front of me with her hands extended. When I stood, she slipped her tiny hands into mine and gave them a squeeze. Her smile was infectious, and I laughed.

"Lead on then, tiny one, but not too fast, for you move across the ground like a shadow, and this old booted clod has a difficult time keeping up with you." The girl, now standing no taller than my chest, nodded her agreement. Then, light as the flutter of a butterfly's wings, she spun around and trotted off ahead of me.

In spite of my request, I still had trouble keeping with her. Again and again I would lose sight of the shimmering green dress, only to have her pop out of the rushes at my side, flash a merry smile at me, and then slip on. It seemed more like a game to her, a game that I had a difficult time enjoying as I dragged the heavy rifle through the clinging vines and rushes that grew thick along the edge of the brook.

We soon left the forest behind and the land flattened out into a broad meadow. Some quirk of the wind had spared this place from the ravages of the flames, and the grass spread out as far as I could see. The brook had carved a shallow path through the meadow, and I now had to crouch to keep my head below the level of the land around us. This made my progress even slower, though the girl patiently led on.

The sun was climbing in the sky, and my shirt was soon drenched with sweat. My boots were soaked through from all the times I had slipped on the muddy bank and into the water, and my hands were scratched and bleeding from the saw edged grasses. The flies and biting gnats buzzed in my ears and bit at the back of my neck, but the girl paid no attention to them. I wanted to stop for a rest, but she would not allow it. Whatever urgency I felt paled before her determination, so I grunted and pushed on.

I was still grumbling about the heat when I spotted the line of trees ahead of us. The trunks were all of the same size and evenly spaced, as if they had been planted that way. For the first time I noticed a look of worry, or even fear in the girl's eyes. She stopped and peered intently at the sky, probing for something. I squatted in the mud next to her and tried to follow her eyes to where she might be looking. However, I could see nothing but grass, sky and trees.

She grabbed my hand without warning and yanked me back into the reeds. I started to say something, but she put a slender finger to my lips and I swallowed my words. I watched her and she became so still, I wondered if she had stopped breathing. A strange terror twisted in her eyes and my own heart began to race. What could possibly strike such an emotion in someone who up to this moment had shown only confidence and steel?

Then we were running, racing for our lives towards the tree line. I felt more than heard the screaming cry behind us as we splashed through the stream and up the opposite bank. Caution was thrown to the wind. Whatever it was that we had been hiding from now saw us, and our only hope was to make it to the trees before it reached us. I expected the sound of gunfire, since I had been running from that threat all along, but all I heard now was the bloodcurdling scream that followed us. A black blur fell from above us and veered towards the girl. She lunged to her left and missed the full impact of the blow, but the claws of the thing still raked her arm as it went past, leaving a series of bloody streaks. I expected whatever it was to rise and attack again, but there was no sign of motion from the spot on the ground where it had impacted. I swung wide though, wishing to avoid whatever might be left there.

The whole time, not a sound escaped from her lips.

Seconds later, there was another scream and something hit me square in the back of the neck. The impact threw me to my knees. My back felt like it was on fire, but whatever hit me didn't hang on. As I scrambled to my feet, I took just long enough to look at the ground behind me and saw nothing more than a dark burned spot in the grass. I was curious what might have caused the burn mark, but there was no time to ponder. I took off as fast as my feet would carry me.

The girl was already a long way ahead of me, running in an odd zigzag pattern. I took her hint, diving first left, and then right, and then right again in a random pattern. It might take longer to reach the woods, but I hoped that whatever was coming at us from the sky would be less likely to hit if I kept changing direction. Another scream exploded behind me and I hit the ground and rolled to my right, only to see one of the black things slam into the ground a few inches from my face. It was moving so fast I barely saw it, but the flash of the long talons and hooked beak were unmistakable. Still, all that was left to mark its passing was a dark burned spot in the grass.

My strength was failing and I was beginning to wonder if I would ever make it to the trees when she appeared beside me. Her one arm where she had been hit hung limp at her side, but she slipped her good hand into mine as she ran along side of me. It gave me strength to see her running there, and I began to hope again. She had a sense of where the attacks would come from, and subtly guided our drunken progress across the meadow. The ground under our feet flew past ever swifter, and the woods raced up to meet us.

We exploded into the line of trees, not slowing until we had gone past at least a dozen of the precisely planted rows. Our pursuer gave one last prolonged scream, and then fell silent. It would not follow us under the trees.

Now that we were in the middle of them, I was shocked at how huge the trees were. They were some sort of conifer I didn't recognize, and towered over us like the majestic columns of a Medieval cathedral. From the brook, it had been impossible to judge the size, and in a flash, I realized just why it had taken so long to reach the forest. I had probably underestimated the distance by half, thinking that the trees were normal size.

We slowed to a fast trot. The air was light and cool, and the thick bed of needles under our feet gave off a pleasant smell with every step. My head throbbed, but suddenly it didn't seem to matter. The forest was a Good Place, a place where we could be protected. For the first time since I had come, I felt like I could laugh here.

That was why I was so surprised when I looked down into the green eyes of the tiny one and saw that they were still wide with terror.

I stopped dead in my tracks. "What's the matter?"

She looked up into my eyes for a moment, and then cast nervous glances to the left and right. She held up her injured hand and tried to flex her fingers. The blood on her arm had clotted, but the ugly gouges were already red and swollen. I could almost feel her pain in the pit of my stomach as she slowly worked her good hand over the stiff fingers. In a few moments, she seemed satisfied that the hand was working. She gave me a weak smile, and then slipped her other hand back into mine, indicating that she wished to keep moving.

I took one step, and the world around me started to pitch and reel. The back of my neck burned with pain. I gripped her hand with all my strength, but that wasn't enough to keep me from falling to my knees. I reached back to the area between my shoulder blades and felt a hot sticky mass. When I looked at my hand again, it was covered with blood.

The girl let out a horrified gasp when she saw the blood. In the confusion she hadn't seen that I too had been hit. She gripped my hand firmly and made me lie down. As soon as my head hit the soft needles, all I wanted to do was go to sleep. Rest... I could just slip away from the pain... I closed my eyes for a moment, but she slapped me sharply in the face. I jerked my eyes open and looked at her. There was a tear running down her face. Somehow, it struck me as funny, and I wanted to laugh, but all I could manage was a rasping cough.

I remember little of what followed. I saw her fumble in the folds of her dress and produce a small bundle from a hidden pocket. She unfolded the bundle and drew out a tiny pack of folded leaves. When she opened it, I was overwhelmed by the sweet fragrance it released.

She moved behind me and began to massage something into the wounds between my shoulders. At first, it stung so bad I nearly passed out again, but the burning soon passed, and I could feel the strength of her medicine flow through my body. Once again, I was overcome by the urge to sleep, but this time it was to conquer the poison in my body rather than succumb to it.

It was dark when I awoke. My head was cradled in the girl's lap, and she was working more of her ointment into the wounds on my back. The faint tingling of the medicine had awoken me. I reached back my hand to investigate the damage but she caught my arm and gently, but firmly pushed it back to my side. I was in no condition or mood to fight back, so I simply entrusted myself to her care. I shifted my position to get comfortable and once again fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next time I awoke, I was disappointed to find her no longer next to me. I sat up and spotted her a short way off, leaning against one of the huge trees, watching me. As soon as she saw me rise, she jumped up and ran to my side. I thought it curious that some of the spring had gone out of her step, but I figured that she had been up all night watching me. I smiled and touched her face lightly with the tips of my fingers. For an instant, she closed her eyes and let out a quiet sigh.

I felt strong and rested, and ready to move on. I got to my feet and looked for the rifle, but it was nowhere to be found. My hands went to my waist and I discovered that the ammunition belt was gone too. When I glared at the girl, she just smiled back at me and flicked her hand as one would brush away a pile of crumbs.

"But I'll need that rifle."

Her eyes sparkled and she repeated the motion.

"But what will we do if they come after us again?"

She waved her arms like a bird in flight.

I was getting nowhere. I had to admit though that she was the one at home here, and I had no clue how to defend the two of us. I threw up my hands in surrender.

"OK. You win. We go on without it, but I'll tell you I'm as lost as ever. Do we go on now? I feel strong enough to move."

She cocked her head to one side, and then nodded. I reached out my hand to her to help her to her feet, and realized that her injured arm once again hung limp at her side. She had been sitting with that side turned away from me and I hadn't seen it before.

"Your arm," I gasped. "Why don't you use the medicine there too? You need it just as much as I did."

She shook her head violently and looked away. She scrambled to her feet and almost fell in the process. I tried to catch her, but she spun away too quickly. By now, I was familiar with her signal to move on, and when she indicated the direction we were to go, I could do nothing more than follow in dumb silence.

We kept a steady pace, stopping occasionally to find roots or berries hidden around the bases of the towering trees. The sun was near its peak when we found ourselves beside another brook.

I had said nothing about her arm all through the morning, but it was obvious that the swelling was spreading. She had long ago washed away the clotted blood, but all along the ragged edges of the wounds, the skin had turned from deep red to black. She walked with that side away from me, but with each step, she had more and more difficulty hiding the pain.

I knelt down next to her and took her stricken hand. At first, she pulled away, but the fight had gone out of her, and she simply looked at me with her sad eyes. I cupped my other hand and brought up some of the cool water to wash off her arm. I thought the cold might at least ease the pain.

"Does that feel any better?"

She nodded weakly.

"Where is the ointment you used for me? Can I help you put some on your arm?"

Her reaction was immediate and forceful. With a quick shake of the head, she pulled her hand away and stumbled to her feet. She gave a flick of her hand and started walking again in the direction we had been heading. Our brief rest was finished, and I now knew to avoid that particular topic.

Though the ointment had clearly saved my life, I was still not up to full strength, and the sun was still high above the horizon when it was decided that we both needed rest. It was unclear who called the halt, but we both tumbled to the soft bed of needles under one of the trees. It was only moments before I was asleep.

I awoke a short time later to see the girl sitting a short distance away. The sun had just set, and the sky still glowed a deep crimson. She had not noticed my awakening, so I held myself still, feigning sleep. I had no desire to be devious, but I wished to see what she was doing while she thought I was not watching.

She was fumbling with the pouch, and I felt a stab of hope. Perhaps she would use the ointment on her own arm. We both knew she needed it, and I was confused why she hoarded it so closely. Now, with only one hand to work with, her progress was slow, and she kept dropping the leaves on the ground. I wanted to get up and help, but I was afraid that if I moved, she would panic and stop.

Instead, I contented myself with simply watching her move. Even in her weakened state, her every motion reminded me of a swift flowing brook, slipping and sliding over the stones, between the twigs that caught there, pausing only long enough to giggle at the branches which draped down from the trees above. Her feet passed over the ground hardly touching the soil beneath her. Her hair, was wild and free, but never tangled or snarled, and every breeze that passed by stopped for a moment to toss and play with it. She could pass through a stand of marsh grass, and not leave a single blade bent. Her eyes sparkled like the morning dew glistening on the gossamer threads of a spider web, and though she spoke no words, her eyes called to me as clearly as sunshine on rippling water or the night wind whistling in the tops of the trees. She was as much a part of the forest as I was a foreigner to it. As I closed my eyes again and tried to force myself to sleep, I felt a tingle of hope.

The morning came and I was the first to awake. I sat up and stretched, glad to be alive in this beautiful cathedral under the leaves. I heard water near by, so I let the girl sleep and took out a small tin cup from my pack to fetch some water for her to drink.

When I returned with the water, I touched her shoulder to wake her. She lay on her good side, with her wounded arm pulled in tight to her breast, and I was almost afraid to touch it. I expected to see some improvement after what she had done the night before, but now the ugly black lines looked even worse.

At first, she didn't move. My heart beat faster, and I gently shook her shoulder. After what felt like an eternity, she forced her eyes open and looked up at me. Though her eyes were dull with pain, she forced a smile for me. I placed my hand under her head and helped her into a sitting position. She accepted the water I offered her and drained the cup.

I returned to the stream to fetch more water, but the forest around me now felt cold and dreary. The sun had not stopped shining, but I hardly noticed its warmth. Perhaps the ointment just needed more time to act on her arm, since she had delayed so long in applying it. I decided we should rest for a little while longer, and then move on at a slow pace. Perhaps she could lean on me. That would help. I would have preferred to wait another day, but that was not possible. We had to move.

I returned at least three more times with water, and each time, the girl drained the cup, and pleaded with her eyes for more. When she was finally satisfied, I found some of the same berries that we had picked the previous day and gave them to her. Her appetite wasn't as strong as her thirst, but she managed to get a few down. I stowed a handful of them in my pack, just to be sure that I had some for later.

It was the girl who finally made the signal to move on. Her step was weak, but she kept moving under her own power. She appreciated leaning on my arm, and between the two of us, we pushed towards our destination.

In spite of the cool breeze under the trees, I was still sweating by the time the sun reached its peak. We sat for a while to rest and she leaned her head against my chest. She drank more water, but had no interest in the berries I offered. When I felt her forehead, it was feverish, and more than once, shivers shook her tiny frame.

She slept for a while, and I ran my hand through her soft hair. She had looked fragile when I first met her, but I had since discovered that she was like a fine steel sword -- light, supple, but possessing incredible strength, and armed with a razor edge. Now, she was the tender blossom of the cherry tree -- ready to flutter away at the slightest gust of wind. I held her close to me in the vain hope that I could share with her some of my own strength.

After a while I knew we had to go on. We were losing precious time. I could see no change it the forest around us -- in fact, if it had not been for the direction of the sun, I would have suspected that we were traveling in great circles -- but there was a subtle change nonetheless. The overwhelming sense of peace and health had vanished, to be replaced by a dull throb of foreboding. It wouldn't be long now.

I gave the girl a gentle shake, and she awoke with a start, disoriented and in a panic. She began to thrash her arms around and I had to grab her to keep her from hurting herself. In the process, one of the wounds reopened, discharging a sickly yellow fluid.

This was too much. I lifted her in my arms to carry her. We had crossed another stream a short distance back, so I turned around and brought her back there. I was no medical genius, but I knew I would have to do something before I lost her.

The stream was cool and clear. I laid her down on the bank near the water and then tore off a strip of material from my shirt. She made no move while I knelt in the water to scrub the wounds. The process was sickening, and I felt like retching from the putrid smell, but I forced myself to keep working. After a while, I had her arm cleaned up as well as I thought I could, but I knew the poison was still in her system, and there was only one thing that I knew would counteract it.

I felt ashamed to do it, but there was really no choice. I looked through the rags that now passed for a dress until I found the hidden pocket and pulled out the tiny bundle. My hands shook so much I almost dropped it in the stream as I hurried to open it.

That was when I realized why she had not put the ointment on her own arm.

In the center of the bundle I found nothing more than the crumbled remains of a few dried leaves. The ointment was gone.

I picked up a few flakes and crushed them between my fingers. Perhaps there was some small healing power left in the leaves themselves. I mixed a few drops of water with the powder and made a thin paste. Working slowly so as to not lose any, I massaged the paste into the freshly cleaned wounds.

There must have been some good left there, for a few moments after I had applied it, the girl's eyes fluttered open. She was still too weak to sit up, but she recognized me and smiled. I lifted her up and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I heaved a sigh of relief and struggled back up the bank.

The stream had cut its way through a bed of shale where we were, and the bank was loose and slippery with the wet stone. I was almost to the top when I slipped. I managed to keep from going down, but my ankle caught on a sharp piece of shale and the stone bit deeply into the flesh. I bit my lip and forced my way the rest of the way up.

At the top, I stopped to check my ankle. There was already a bloody spot on the sock, but I could still walk on it, so I decided to move on.

I had been afraid that carrying the girl would slow me down, but now she felt as if she weighed nothing at all. Her grip around my neck remained tight, and I began to hope that she would recover. I was glad now that she had tossed away the rifle, since it would have been nothing more than dead weight, and I needed to move as quickly as possible.

The ground in front of us was uneven and broken now. The trees were smaller here, and the mattress of needles thinner, with great heaps of boulders pushing up through in places. My breath became labored as the slope increased. I found a stream and decided to follow it up. It laughed at us as it splashed down the narrow rock lined ravine it had cut into the hill. I followed it up until it disappeared into the hillside in a bubbling spring. I stopped just long enough to take a drink, and then climbed on.

The sun was sinking in the sky and I was wondering how much further I would be able to go when the trees ended abruptly, and I found myself looking up at a short climb of perhaps fifty yards to the top.

I stepped from under the trees, but then stopped dead in my tracks. At this height, the wind whistled wild through the tops of the trees, but it was not the wind that gave me such a sense of foreboding. An eagle called as it circled overhead, but that was not what had startled me. I felt another power there. I took another step and the hair on my arms tingled. The tiny one in my arms stirred. Even asleep, she too felt something. I pushed the fear from my mind and started walking again.

When I reached the top, I found that the very rock of the mountain had pushed up through the thin soil, leaving a large, perfectly flat area perhaps ten paces across. I looked around and found that we were above the tops of the trees, and I could see full circle around the rock. In every direction, we were surrounded by an unbroken sea of green.

What surprised me though was the sight of the center of the rocky table. The area was blackened as if by fire, but there was no evidence of wood or ash left there. At the center of this burned area was a disk of polished stone, about the size of a spread hand, so smooth that I could watch the reflection of the clouds passing overhead. I could tell that the sensation I felt when I stepped from the trees emanated from this point. I set the girl down at the edge of the burned area and stepped to investigate the polished disk.

My inspection was interrupted by a faint moan. I spun around and saw that, not only had she awoken, but she was slowly pulling herself towards me. Stricken that I had left her behind, I ran back to her.

When I knelt next to her, I realized that it was not me that she had been crawling towards, but the center of the burned area. I eased my arms under her and lifted her up. She made no protest, so I carried her the short distance and gently set her down next to the disk.

She mustered what little strength she had left and forced herself, with assistance, to a kneeling position, facing the disk. Then, she placed her open hand flat in the center of the disk and held it there for a moment before she collapsed back into my lap.

I turned her over and found her eyes were closed. I put my finger to her neck to find a pulse. It was there, but just barely. My fear of the whole place grew with every heartbeat, and I wanted to get away. One more time, I picked the tiny one up and limped to the grass at the edge of the rock.

When I set her down in the soft grass, she opened her eyes and smiled at me. The color had drained from her face and lips, but her eyes were still bright. She cocked her head when she looked at me, just as she had the first time we met, and it made me laugh. Then, she reached her good arm up around the back of my head and pulled me closer until our lips met. She held the two of us there for a long moment before her arm fell back limp.

This time, when I felt for the pulse at her neck, it fluttered once, twice, and then was still.

I told myself that it couldn't be true, that she couldn't really be gone. I held her limp form tight to my chest and rocked back on my heels while the tears flowed and soundless sobs racked through me. I held her injured arm and kissed it, letting my tears wash over the wounds. An immense hole opened up in my soul, and the tears poured out like water from a broken rock. I was completely lost now. Never again would I be able to touch the damp earth without thinking about the color of her skin, or see the fresh green of spring without seeing her eyes looking back at me.

I bathed her body with my tears. Finally, when there were no more tears to shed, I set her lifeless body down in the fresh grass and arrayed her legs and arms. A faint smile still graced her lips, and she looked peaceful there.

Then I noticed her arm. It had been blotched and swollen along its entire length before, but now wherever my tears had washed over the skin, it was soft and clean, free of any hint of harm. I stood up and gazed down at her, wondering if I had held within me all along the power to heal her sickness.

"I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

I turned to the young lady sitting next to me. "What?"

"Is something the matter? I thought you were crying."

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus my thoughts again. "No. It's nothing."

"Oh... OK. I just was wondering.."

Her voice was soft and reassuring, but I was not in a mood for conversation. "Thanks, but I really am OK. Thanks."

The grind and squeal of brakes came to my rescue. "Uh, I think this is my stop. Been nice talking with you. Really."

I grabbed my briefcase and went to stand up, but as I did, my ankle collapsed under my weight. I grabbed for the rail on the back of the seat across the isle and almost ended up in the lap of the old man sitting there. The young woman gasped and several other passengers turned to see what the problem was.

I forced a crooked smile. "Foot must have gone to sleep I guess. Just have to walk on it a bit until it wakes up." I made another attempt to stand and this time was able to grasp the overhead rail. I pulled myself to the door and stepped out just before it closed.

The station was crowded and noisy, but I pushed my way through to the street and limped the short distance to the building where I worked. I assume the receptionist at the front door gave me her usual cheery greeting, but I never heard it. The trip up the elevator and down the hall to my cubicle passed in a blur

I flopped into my chair and stared blankly at the dead screen of my computer, not even bothering to turn it on. A pile of papers lay on my desk, waiting for my attention, and there was a string of email in my queue, but none of it seemed real to me. My heart was still at the top of that mountain, soaring with the eagle and looking far below at the lifeless body of a black haired girl. I wheeled and turned, unable to take my eyes off of her. Then, a sudden updraft caught under my wings, and the mountain top fell away beneath me.

I sat up sharply and jabbed at the power button on the screen in front of me. It was a dream I reminded myself. Nothing more. Nothing less. She was a creation of my own mind, and I could bring her back any time I wanted, but even as the words formed in my brain, I knew they were a lie. She was gone. I had seen her die, and no massaging of the imagination would bring her back.

I heaved a sigh and glanced around for my coffee cup. In the mean time, I had a real life to attend to. Yes, there would be more times in the future to return to that place in my mind, but right now I needed a cup of coffee. Black.

I turned in my chair to stand up, and winced in pain. I had expected my foot to wake up by this time, but apparently it hadn't. My ankle throbbed with dull pain and I pulled up my pant leg to examine it.

What I found was the dark stain of blood soaking into the sock.


(Updated: 20 August, 1997)