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I realize my mistake as I make my way back to the cave. I have been gone too long. The torch sputters and dies, its fuel exhausted. Shit, shit, shit.
The fear in my heart is causing a lump in my throat. I’m sure I can hear the spirits of the ancestors echoing down the dark corridors and whispering in my mind, calling me to join them.
My relief is overwhelming when I realize I can see the outline of the cave ahead. The firelight gently flickering on the wall draws me home.
Zephiro is asleep when I return. I sit with my back to the wall, my heart beating frantically. I keep watching him for I don’t know how long. His reassuring presence calms me. But the terrifying wounds he received at the hands of the dark elves draw my eye. Their poisoned magic weapons have torn his skin and left great dark welts across his body.
Is it possible for him to survive this? I really don’t know. And what if he doesn’t? Where does that leave me? Alone in the wilderness with nowhere to go, no ally to turn to. It makes me realize how much I’ve come to rely on him. I no longer consider running from him. He is mine.
The cave has been used by weary travelers before. There is a small stack of firewood, and I am grateful. I use just enough to keep the fire alight, and the burning of the logs is the only marker I have of the passing time.
It seems like an eternity before Zephiro stirs. I feed him water and wash his wounds. There is a dangerous heat in more than one of them. I wish I could boil the water and make a poultice of fresh herbs, but my resources are limited.
It is not long before he slips back into slumber. All I can do is curl my body around his and pray to the gods that he lives.
My mind trips back over the events that led us here. I see again the fury in his eyes as he defends me. I hear the sickening crack as the dark elf's blade hits home. Tears course down my face as I realize that I have done this to him. It was me he was defending.
Maybe I am cursed. Maybe I should just leave. He would stand more of a chance without me. But the thought of ending up back in the hands of the ‘real’ monsters, the dark elves, fills me with dread.
I stare at the beast as he twitches in his slumber. His features are no longer terrifying to me. I have come to love the whorls and gnarls of his face. I have come to cherish the feel of his touch, with those firm strong hands.
By the gods, I’ve fallen in love!
The revelation hits me like a hammer. I have found the love I so desperately craved my entire life in the arms of a monster.
“Sierra,” he moans in his sleep.
“I am here, my love,” I tell him, stroking his cheek.
His groping hand finds mine, and he pulls me in close. Enveloped in his warmth, I drift off to sleep.
When I awake, the cave is dark. No, no, no. I have let the fire go out.
With relief, I see that there is a small glow of embers. Carefully, I blow on them, gently coaxing them back to life. I must be careful not to sleep so long next time.
By the time I have the fire blazing again, Zephiro is awake.
“I need to find herbs to tend your wounds,” I tell him.
“You cannot leave,” he replies earnestly. “It is too dangerous. And besides, look, I am much better.” He manages to move his hand and carefully raises his arm. But the pain in his eyes belies the effort this simple movement takes.
I resign myself to staying and waiting for him to heal naturally. But time is meaningless in these dark tunnels. It is marked only by the trips to the spring to wash and carry water. And the supply of firewood, which is dwindling as fast as our hunger is rising.
18
ZEPHIRO
The scent of her pulls me from my turbid dreams. “Sierra.” The word is on my lips before I’m even conscious.
“Zephiro, I’m here.” Her cool hand visits my forehead. “You’re feeling a little cooler,” she says, sounding relieved. “I’ve been so worried about you.”
“How long have we been here?” I ask her. The elven blades were laced with magic and strange poisons. I have spent most of the time since the attack in a state of delirium. My body feels like it’s past the worst of it, but I feel utterly battered. There is not a part of me that does not hurt.
“I have no idea,” Sierra replies. “The firewood is almost gone, as is the food.”
“Damn,” I say. The supply of firewood was a fortunate find. I make a mental note to restore the supply before we leave.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
