He built me a nest. And then retreated to the opposite wall.
I read the rest of the space while he watches. The ceiling: vaulted, solid, the arches distributing weight evenly. No visible cracks in the first thirty feet. The north wall: thick, old stone, well-mortared. Narrow windows set high in the east wall, frost thick on the glass, dark sky beyond. The doorway to my right: granite lintel, deep-set frame, built to last.
“How long was I unconscious?”
“Three days.”
Three days. I lost three days to fever and darkness.
“You kept me alive for three days.”
“You had a fever. I kept the fire going.”
“For three days.”
He doesn’t answer. Which is an answer.
“Did you sleep?”
His expression stays flat. “I don’t need much sleep.”
That is not an answer to my question. I file it.
I look at him across the empty space. The tension in his shoulders. The careful, deliberate distance he maintains. Thecare and the distance don't match. I don't know which one is the lie.
“Three days is a long time to sit with an unconscious stranger.” I keep my voice level. “Did I talk?”
His gaze shifts to the fire. Flames casting shadows across his gray skin. “You kept saying ‘stop the water.' Over and over.”
I close my eyes. The roar. The mud swallowing the village house by house. Red laundry on a line, disappearing last.
“Did I talk about anything else?”
“No.” A pause. “Just the water.”
The silence sits between us. The fire settles. A log shifts and sparks drift up.
“Drink.” I open my eyes. He’s pointing to the cup on the table. Still hasn't moved from his chair. “It’s tea. Cold now. I can heat it if you want.”
“It’s fine.”
I reach for the cup with both hands. They shake badly enough to need both. The tea is bitter. Herbs and roots and something mineral that tastes like earth. I drink it all.
“Eat.” The bread and meat on the plate. My stomach cramps at the sight, hunger waking after three days of nothing. I eat too fast. The bread is dense and dark and chewy. The meat is gamey and rich. I finish everything on the plate and sit there with empty hands, surprised at myself.
“More?”
“No thank you.”
Silence. Fire and wind. I watch the shadows play across the walls and gather my thoughts.
“Why am I here?”
“You were dying.”
“That was the plan.”
He goes rigid. Every line of his body tightening at once. From across the hall I see it clearly.
