Blood Crossed Part Four

Elenor

Arateak doesn't come back to the village until late the next afternoon. I busy myself making a place for him in my house, with the help of Valerie and Franklin, both of whom spend most of the day apologizing to me for everything they can think of, while helping me clean my house of black bloodstains.

“It's all right. You were both wonderful, he would never have made it if you hadn't been there.”

Val protests. “Ma'am,” (which is a human term of respect for a female, although it sounds rather silly to my ears,) “we failed you. You've never done anything but make our lives better and help us, and when you finally needed us we couldn't cut it.”

Franklin nods. “I should have paced myself,” but I cut him off. Perhaps a little too sharply, I hold up a finger in warning. “I don't want to hear one more apology. The boy is alive, and well, and any problems he's having right now aren't your fault. If you want to feel sorry for yourselves, then you've never listened to a word I've said.”

And we get back to scrubbing. The woodwork isn't ruined, exactly, but someone from the city will have to come and magic the deep stains out of it. No conventional washer will work.

I sigh after a few moments' silence. “Frank, see if I've gotten any mail?”

“Of course.” He hurries into my entertainment room, as though glad to leave. I don't blame him, the kitchen looks like there was a horrific battle here. In a way, there was.

There is only the weekly message from my parents, barely more than a short sermon from Father and a report on Gael's education.

“Beware the heathen, Elenor my darling. They are legion in your part of Fallen, owing to a lack of a refined clerical presence. I do wish you the best of luck in educating them, as it will make the plans of the Council go much more smoothly.

“You are important, Elenor. Halfmoon is a famously liberal colony, I can only wonder what travesties were going on before you arrived. Our reports from Nahrastem sound as though you're really shaping the place up.”

Nahrastem is the nearby Seraph monastery, down on the distant cliffsides below my favorite clearing. Every now and then a Brother will fly up to check on my activities, although it's been a few weeks more than I expected since there was a visit.

And I can only guess that the Brothers are getting me confused with some other missionary, because if anything the people of Halfmoon have had an effect on me, not the other way around. I'm growing more and more sure of my new place in this world; as a person, as a friend, rather than a leader.

They don't need to be led. They just need love, like everything and everyone else. My father and his faith don't know about love.

“We look forward to the completion of your task, when you can come and rejoin us in your rightful home. Be well.”

I turn off the screen and sigh, then send Val and Frank home with baskets of my lousy baking as tokens of my thanks. Compared to the cooks of Halfmoon, my pastries are an insult, but earnest attempts gain as much favor here as true skill.

The sun is getting ready to set, so I quietly drift over the trees to my overlook, trying not to be seen. A couple on a walk obviously spots me, but the girl waves and they don't pursue a meeting. I'm glad not to be needed right now, but at the same time, the nightly loneliness worms into my heart. Why don't I get to walk two-by-two like anyone else?

I watch the rainbow fire burn down to blackness, just like every other night. The cold, blue-black Dusk Sister fades into view for a few minutes, seeming gigantic in the sky, our unexplored neighbor planet, then leaves only a black hole in the carpet of gleaming stars.

“Someone told me you'd be here,” a voice calls from the woods, and I actually startle myself over the cliff edge. Catching myself with my wings and flapping back up, I see that Arateak, scarred but steady, is leaning on a tree.

I shake my head. Foolishness, leaping off a cliff at nothing. We don't fear heights, like humans or Pteros, but feel a sting of embarassment at indulging our instincts. Flight away from grounded threats is what kept us alive in the distant, homeworld past.

“Where have you been all day?” I try to sound furious and stern, but he smirks and he can clearly tell I've been worried.

“I slept in the woods, then I spent some time in that lake and buried my brother. I've had to make some calls, we were in the middle of a delivery.”

I'm shocked at his calm recital of the hard facts. “That must have been difficult for you. I'm sorry.”

He approaches my spot and sits cross-legged. “I let it hurt me last night. All night. I just allowed the pain to have it's way with me, didn't worry about being strong. Sometime after sunrise I realized I'd be okay, and what I had to do. A loss is like a fire, I've decided. It burns through and then it's over. It leaves a mark, sure, but you can stand back up and start to rebuild.”

Surprised at this speech, and at the wisdom in it, and I surprise myself even more by putting an arm around his shoulders. He's warm to the touch. I didn't expect that. “You're a strong person, Arateak.”

“Maybe,” he says, and pauses for a moment. “So what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you strong? Or do you just do the only thing you can and hope it works out?”

“Sometimes,” I say carefully, “that's all there is.”

He shakes his head, thick black hair swishing heavily, like a spike-ended mop. “Never. There's always an option, and another option, and another. You just have to be willing to break a few rules.” He stands, lightly holding my hand still. “Rules are, with few exceptions, just other people trying to limit your possibilities. Don't let them. You'd be amazed at...” he trails off, chuckles, and helps me stand up.

“Look, Arateak, I still don't really understand what you're saying. Are you trying to make a point, or...?”

And faster than I can react to, before I can protest, or even decide if I should protest,he leans down and brushes full, burning lips against mine. Only for an eternal second, while my heart forgets to beat and my brain refuses to work. A pleasurable panic overtakes me, and then-

“Thank you for helping me,” and Arateak is off through the woods again. He calls back, “I'll see you later on.”

Even the scars I put on his face can't make him ugly, when he smiles at me.

What am I going to do?