“I’ll go,” I said. “I’ll ask her to come here.”
“No.” She stood and headed to the stand where we hung our traveling cloaks. “It’s too long to go there and back. And it’s highly unlikely she’ll make the trip.No onewants to come here.”
“Mom—”
“I’ll take him in the cart and we’ll leave at dawn.” She pulled out the smaller cloak, the one we’d made for Henri last winter. “Besides, the cool air might help break the fever. We’d reach the healer in hours instead of days, and she can treat him immediately.”
With her determined tone, I knew there was no talking her out of it. “Fine, I’ll come with you.”
“No,” she said with a resolute shake of the head. “Stay here and take care of the house.”
“But—”
“I won’t risk both of my children by going through the forest.”
“So you know it’s a risk,” I began.
She fixed her eyes dead on me. “I don’t have another choice. If I don’t take him…” Her voice trailed off as she gazed toward the window.
“But…” I began to argue, but the tightness of her jaw snapped my mouth shut. It was clear she’d made her decision. No doubt she’d weighed all risks, all options, and was doing what she thought was best for us.
I couldn’t add more grief to her already heavy shoulders. “Okay, I’ll pack supplies.” One thing I could do to help them on their journey was to ensure they had everything they’d need, but I had to consider not adding too much weight that would slow them down.
The sooner they went and did this, the sooner they’d return.
My sleep was stuttered that night. Dreams of winged beasts, glowing eyes, haunting statues… The dark legends of the shadows in La Forêt de Veillepierre.
Before the sun rose the next morning, I peeked into Henri’s room. He was still, too still. He lay with his small face turned toward the wall. His cheek was pale, and dark circles marred the soft area beneath his eyes. His short, dark hair was damp at the temples. One hand had escaped the blanket and lay open on the pillow beside his face, the fingers slightly curled. He looked younger in sleep, and too thin.
As I walked over to check on him, he took a ragged breath.
I exhaled, placing my hand on my heart as I sagged against the wall. Mom was right. He needed help, and we wouldn’t find it here in our village.
Last night, I’d packed the cart with basic supplies. This morning, I added the last of the food and water. They’d need it for their journey more than I would. I’d find something to eat.
Mom wrapped Henri in the cloak, his small body frighteningly light in her arms. He mumbled something I couldn’t make out, one hand clutching at her sleeve.
“We’ll be back before dark.” Mom paused on the threshold, sunlight catching the silver threading through her dark hair—more silver than I remembered, though I’d been watching it come in for years. She was a few inches shorter than me, but her straight posture made her seem taller. The lines around her mouth and eyes had deepened this past year, and her cheeks had lost their fullness. I’d inherited my dark hair and hazel eyes from her, but where my face tended to show my emotions, she’d mastered the quiet way to hide her worries.
Henri coughed. I kissed his forehead and then touched my lips. His skin was too hot, like touching the sun. Sharp memories of my father’s illness returned. Would this be the last time I saw my brother? I wet a cloth and placed it on his forehead to help cool his temperature.
Once they were settled for the journey, I hugged Mom and said, “Be careful.”
“We’ll be fine,” she assured me with a forced smile.
The sun had barely begun to rise over the dying fields, painting them in amber and rust, as my mom and Henri headed west.
Once their figures grew so small that I could no longer see them, I stepped back inside. I pulled out my favorite book on plant healing and read again about remedies, longing for herbs that might as well be on another planet.
They’ll be back before dark,I assured myself.
They weren’t.
When evening came and still there was no sign of them, I lit the hearth and sat before it, counting my breaths.
Once. Twice. Three times.
My mother was smart and cautious. She wouldn’t stay past dark unless something had gone wrong.
